of deer, as the law directs. It would not be difficult to domesticate the deer, and to use him for ten years in carrying light burdens before he is fatted for the table. Nov. 15, 1637: “It is ordered that no man shall have leave to buy venison in any town, but by leave of the town.” The racoon, that used to plunder our cornfields, has almost disappeared. The mink and musquosh are about our rivers and ponds, though severely hunted by boys. The woodchuck, weasel, skunk, grey and yellow squirrel, are common. It is some time since many wild rabbits were killed in Medford; and we presume the oldest inhabitant cannot recollect seeing a wild beaver here. There are moles and meadow mice as in the olden time. The last named has proved peculiarly destructive to fruit-trees, by gnawing off the bark during winter, while under the snow. If posterity wish to know if we have rats and mice, we would assure them that we have more than our cats and dogs can keep in subordination. Oct. 1, 1645, we find the following order: “No goatskins to be transported out of this jurisdiction, unless they be dressed, and made into gloves or some other garment.” Johnson says the early inhabitants took moose, deer, beaver, and otter, in traps. They bent down a pole, which had a cord at its end, and a slip-noose; and, when the noose was touched, the pole flew up and caught the game. They shot squirrels, grey and black racoons, geese, and turkeys. The birds, now common with us, are those usually found in this latitude. As birds must follow their food, their migration northward in spring and southward in autumn enables us to see a great variety of these travellers. How powerful, how mysterious, is this impulse for change of place! God seems to have touched them with his spirit, and they became as obedient as the planets.
Who bade the stork, Columbus-like, exploreSome birds, like the wild-geese and ducks, make all their journey at once; while most of them follow slowly the opening bud, the spring insects, and the spawning herring. A few leave Florida, and follow vegetation to the White Hills; they pass us in Medford during April and May, resting with us a few days “to take a bite,” and to give us a song. The
Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before?
Who calls the council, states the certain day?
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way?