Players addressing officers.

Kicking or striking ball.

Carrying ball.

Bounding ball more than three times, lower than the knee.

Holding longer than three seconds.

Delaying game.

Tackling, holding, pushing opponents.

Snatching or batting ball from hands of opponent.

Juggling.

Crossing or stepping on the field lines.

Leaning or reaching over another player.

Roughness.

Striking.

Kicking.

Shouldering.

Tripping.

Hacking.

Unnecessarily rough play.

Should any question come up not covered by these rules the officers may decide the matter in accordance with the spirit of the game.

These official rules are intended especially for girls' basket ball as played in most of the well-known colleges, Vassar, Bryn Mawr, Smith, Wellesley, etc., and by the majority of schools except in and around New York, in which section both girls and boys play the boys’ game. This differs from the girls’ in having greater freedom and consequently more action, players being allowed to run to any part where they think they can be of most use within the extreme limits of the field. The dividing lines from side to side of the field are omitted, and the girls must be equal to greater exertion and more violent action for the boys' game.

The girls’ game is considered the safest and best for them, being adapted for girls; yet some champion players prophesy that ere long the boys’ game will be the one generally played by both girls and boys. If girls enter into the boys’ game they must keep in training that their strength may equal the demands. They must not shed one tear when occasionally hurt, though such accidents need not occur if all rudeness is avoided. Should one girl unintentionally run against another during the game, precious moments cannot be wasted in apologies, there being no time for either excuses or tears. While the sport is going on the player’s mind should be all earnestness and determination, too intent upon the game to allow thoughts for other things. Girls will soon acquire greater moral and physical courage by playing basket ball, and sufficient nerve to keep back the tears. Their self-control will be vastly improved and their endurance, strength, quickness of action, and judgment rapidly strengthened. All these qualities are essential, not only in basket ball, but in helping one to understand the art of living.

Players should wear tennis

in order to avoid slipping, sliding, and injuring one another with heavy heels, should one player accidentally step on the toes of another. The

of short, full, divided skirt, gathered zouave fashion at the knee, and a loose woollen blouse or sweater, forms a comfortable, sensible uniform for basket ball. If desired a knee-length skirt of stout material may take the place of the divided skirt, but never attempt to play in a long dress or tight clothing.

The word grows broader and is more and more filled with meaning as we begin to understand that “neighbor” may embrace in its kindliness not alone the whole human race, but all the animal creation with which we come in contact.

These denizens of the woods and fields are indeed our neighbors, and so also are the queer folk whose lives are partly or wholly spent in the water. When we learn to look for them we will find life full of the beauty, the music, and the good-will of our little friends and neighbors.

Few of these out-door acquaintances force themselves upon us; they are not at all sure of their welcome, so we must keep our eyes and ears open that we may learn their haunts and meet them at least half way. While strolling in the country it is pleasant to walk along laughing and singing as we go, but we must refrain if we really wish to come near any of the bright-eyed, suspicious little creatures. They can only be approached very quietly, for wild things understand an unusual noise only as a danger signal, and will start in alarm at the least sound or sudden motion, and be up and off before we are conscious of their presence.

A little book for

divided off into spaces, each space having a heading, as in Fig. 619, will be of great value in identifying the animals, Fig. 619.
Fig. 619. birds, and insects you may meet, and in keeping such records, your interest will deepen and your love for Nature and all her children greatly increase.

Carry the book with you, and make the notes on the spot. Do not wait until you reach home, depending upon your memory; it may sometimes play you false. Write nothing under the heading of “Identification” until you are quite sure you recognize the creature you are studying; for this one entry it will be best to wait until you can consult a reliable book on the subject, and then carefully compare your notes with what the naturalist gives as facts.

If your stroll leads you through the woods listen for the chatter of

This saucy rodent belongs to a large family, with many branches and ramifications, and squirrels of some kind are to be found in almost any wooded spot.

The scolding remonstrance to your invasion of his domain will probably reach you before you catch a glimpse of him; but sit down and wait quietly, Mr. Squirrel will soon appear, and very likely his little wife will follow him. Cautious, alert, yet really unafraid, they will approach nearer and nearer, until they are quite close enough for you to mark their peculiarities and decide to which branch of their family they belong. You may even pass the compliments of the day with your little host if you speak gently and softly. They are not timid animals, and will quickly make friends with anyone who treats them kindly. In Daytona, Fla., where they are absolutely undisturbed, the squirrels are very numerous, filling the great moss-laden trees, scampering over the lawns and fences and even eating from the hands of those who will regularly feed them, all the while living in entire freedom, without restraint of any kind.

Wherever you may find the squirrels, their nest is probably close by, hidden in a hole in one of the trees. Be careful how you thrust your hand into such an opening, however, for squirrels have sharp teeth and may resent such undue familiarity. About the first of April the nest will be filled with a promising family of little ones from four to six in number, and if you can take such a family under your supervision and “grow up with them,” as it were, you will be amply repaid by the amusement the merry little creatures will afford and by the opportunity to observe, with the privilege of an intimate friend, their house-keeping and manner of life.

You will know

by his color, during the summer it is a red-brown with a white vest bordered on the sides with a dark line. He changes his coat twice a year, and his winter garment is duller and not nearly so red, while the vest is gray without the dark border.

When you find a squirrel’s nest in the crotch of a tree instead of in a hole you may be pretty sure it belongs to the gray squirrel, which is said to be the most easily tamed of all its family.

Do not mistake

for a squirrel, although he does resemble one and his lively chatter seems to be in the same language. He is, in fact, sometimes called a ground squirrel, but in reality he is only a distant cousin.

You will not be so apt to find him in the interior of the woods as in more open places; his favorite promenade is the top of a stone wall or rail fence. He is a little fellow with a flat, bushy tail and well-developed cheek pouches, which he fills with seeds and nuts until his cheeks are puffed out equal to a boy’s when he eats an apple.

The tawny little chipmunk of the Eastern States has two white stripes and five narrow black ones down its back. In the West there are other varieties, the little black and white striped fellow of the Rocky Mountains being the prettiest and tamest.

The chipmunk is an engaging little creature, tamer even than the squirrel, and he will often come close to the house and sometimes enter it in search of food; it is the dogs that generally drive him away, for no dog, however well behaved, can resist chasing a chipmunk. He is easy game, for he seldom climbs a tree, and unless he can find refuge in his hole or under the wood-pile his life is soon the forfeit.

Do not look in a tree for the chipmunk’s nest, you will not find it there, but perhaps at the foot of the very pine under which you are standing, or beneath the large rock which lies in your path there is a small hole opening into a little hollow, and in this underground chamber is the soft, warm nest and the store of food which the chipmunk has providently laid by. Here it sleeps through the cold winter months, waking only to eat a few nuts, seeds, or grains of corn, soon to drowse again, and remain asleep until spring has come once more.

When you see a small, brown, long-bodied animal, not much larger than a rat, running swiftly along the ground, you may be pretty sure it is our neighbor

His home is probably near the river or the borders of the meadow, but he hunts his game with such intelligence and persistence it is possible to meet him almost anywhere. We frequently hear this little animal spoken of, not always with praise, and it is strange he so seldom crosses our path, for he does not stand in much fear of his human neighbors. The weasel is very quick and active, and also quite inquisitive; it lives on frogs, birds, eggs, and mice, and the farmers complain that it seeks larger game in their poultry yards.

Mr. Dan Beard tells an interesting story of a walk in the woods where he found a weasel asleep in a deserted crow’s nest at the top of a tall tree. It is possible the little brown intruder might have been able to explain just why the nest was empty of all save himself.

The sharpness and cunning of the weasel’s character is shown in its face. A low forehead, pointed nose, eyes small and penetrating plainly denote these qualities, yet it is a most interesting little animal and well worth all the study and observation you can give it.

A very small neighbor to be found on the borders of the woods or a shady road is the pretty, harmless

Seldom more than two and one-half inches long, this little creature is slender and daintily made, with a tail quite the length of its head and body. Its skin is smooth, not scaled like the lizard’s, and is generally brilliant in color. One variety is bright red, darker on the back, where it has spots of a brighter red encircled with dark rings. I have found many of them in Pike County, Pa., and always in damp places, though never in the water. There is another kind that lives in the water, but my little red friends, while loving dampness, remain always on land. You will generally find them under stones or logs, and after a shower they are also to be met in the open, though they do not travel far from their haunts. Take one up in your hand and examine the delicate forefeet, so much like fairy hands. They will cling to your finger in the most winning fashion and you may examine the little animal at leisure, for it is clean and harmless. If you wish to keep the salamander for further study, place it in a perforated box with damp moss or even damp blotting-paper, and remember to keep it moist, otherwise it will simply dry up. I know whereof I speak, for a friend who was with me in the mountains, wishing to carry two of the salamanders home with her, placed them in a box without moisture of any kind and when we lifted the lid the next morning the poor little creatures were dead and as dry as two sticks.

The salamander feeds on small insects, but I have never seen them eat in captivity. That they may be safely transported and established in new homes has been proved, for a gentleman from Seattle, Wash., who was visiting at our Pike County, Pa., camp, became so deeply interested in these creatures he took a pail of them across the continent, and at last accounts they were living in his garden, to all appearances quite as comfortably as in their native woods.

On the trunks of some of the great trees you are passing you may possibly see a number of queer, semi-transparent shells. These are the cast-off armor of

Locusts you will probably call them, but that name rightly belongs to quite another insect. Perfect in every detail, even to the great bulging eyes, the cicada’s little coat of mail clings to the tree with its six pairs of claws like a live creature, and only a split down its back shows its emptiness and tells how the cicada crept from the old into a newer and fuller life.

The shells one usually finds belong to quite a large black and green insect, one of the more common species of cicada. This is called the dog-day harvest fly, and requires but two years to develop, while the smaller red and black variety is known as the “seventeen year locust,” because it spends seventeen years of its life underground before it reaches maturity. All this while it bears the name of nymph. A pretty name for the young insect, isn’t it?

The nymph began life as an egg which its mother deposited, with a number of others, in a slit she made in a twig of a tree. For six weeks it lay snugly in its narrow bed, then came forth a tiny white creature, with little legs which carried it about in a lively manner. Its mouth was simply a hollow tube which would change into jaws later on. For a while the nymph was happy in its new-found life, then Cicada and Shell.
Cicada and Shell. suddenly a longing for quiet seemed to come over it and it dropped to the ground, there to bury itself in the earth, which was to be its home for many years.

Down in the mysterious darkness, in that busy world where so much we do not understand is going on, the little nymph grew very slowly for a year, nourished by the juices of the roots he found near him and which he sucked up through his tube-like mouth. Then he shed his first skin for another, which gave him greater freedom for further growth. After a time this skin was also discarded, another and another, until, we are told, six times his garment was changed while yet he was deep in the earth, with no one to see and admire his new attire. Then when seventeen long years were passed and his days of preparation were accomplished, he dug his way up into a new world at the dictate of a new impulse, and one evening he emerged to find himself in a goodly company of his kind, all intent upon reaching a still greater height. The tree under which he had lived so long was his goal, and up this he made his way for some distance, then, forcing his little claws into the bark, he clung to his place awaiting his final transformation.

Presently his nymph-skin opened down the back and the cicada, a nymph no longer, crawled slowly out. White again as when he first saw the light, except for two black spots on his back, soft and helpless he clung anew to the bark. At first his wings were so much a part of his body you would have thought he had none, but almost immediately they began to unfold and grow, becoming transparent and firm as he waved them slowly back and forth. During the night his color was marvellously changed from white to black and red, and the next morning came his season of rejoicing. With all faculties fully alive, he joined the chorus of the other cicadas and the woods were made to resound with their high, rasping notes.

By the way, do you know

Or, rather, they do not sing, the noise they make is instrumental, not vocal, and their instruments are usually carried under their wings, a part of themselves to be played upon at will, when and where they choose.

The cicada’s instrument is a kind of drum, and, as if one would not be sufficiently noisy, he carries two, one behind each of his hind wings. He has no drum-sticks, but vibrates his drums until the natural buzzing sound rises almost to a shriek. Other insects play on other instruments, but, however the sound is made, each species has a note of its own, not to be mistaken for that of any other.

Deep in the forests where the dead leaves and pine-needles cover the ground you will be likely to find the well-known

the delight of all children and an object of interest to everyone. This wonderful little ghost flower, so purely white and so quickly blighted by exposure to sunlight appears to live for its beauty alone. As far as we know it is of absolutely no use, and does not even provide for itself, as do other plants. It is a root parasite and draws its nourishment from the roots of the pine upon which it has fastened itself. The stem as well as the blossom is silvery white, it has no foliage, and the flower at the end of the stalk bends its head as though ashamed of its idle life, but it continues to live on the vital juices of the roots and we call it the Indian Pipe because it somewhat resembles the long-stemmed Indian calumet, or pipe of peace. The botanists, however, know it as the Monotropa Uniflora.

Another beautiful inhabitant of the deep woods is the

which arrays itself every summer in its spotted pink or yellow dress, and stands as proudly erect on its slender stalk as though troops of admirers were to pass its way, when, in fact, it is rarely seen save by those who seek it. As its name suggests, it resembles an Indian moccasin in shape, the hanging pouch forming the toe, while the heel is clasped by five pointed and twisted petals. Over the opening of the pouch there is a little flap, which has much to do with the fertilization of the flowers. The botanical name of this little orchid is the Cypripedium, and some call it lady-slipper, though it looks not at all like your slipper or mine.

As you walk on under the interlacing branches of the close-growing trees, look about for evidences of the

Pull the bark from a dead trunk or limb and you will probably find its trade-mark. Fig. 620 is one pattern, but there are various others, among them a spiral Fig. 620
Fig. 620 design cut as smoothly as though done with an engraver’s chisel.

These little workers in wood are but babies, being the larvæ of the engraver beetle, which, deposited as eggs under the bark of a dead tree, turn into worm-like creatures and eat their way along the surface of the sap-wood, tracing the cabalistic designs in their progress. When fully developed the beetle is still a wee thing, the largest being not over a quarter of an inch in length. Some are brown in color and some black.

Drop your eyes now and look for

in the soft earth. You will frequently find them around ponds and the margin of brooks. They make a most interesting study, and will soon enable you to learn which of your forest neighbors has visited the spot before you.

A small, delicate impression, much like that of a dainty little hand, will show that

has been along, and this is all you are likely to see of him unless you take a moonlight stroll, for Master 'Coon shuns daylight, and is about only at night. Being a pretty and an intelligent little animal, he is sometimes tamed and even allowed the freedom of the house, like a dog or cat, but 'coons are as mischievous as monkeys, and very frequently the little hands are used to work disaster among the household gods. When that occurs a chain is used to keep Master 'Coon out of further trouble and consequent punishment.

The 'coon’s fur is long, thick, and of a pepper-and-salt gray. Its tail is decorated with rings, and its broad white face is marked with three radiating black lines across the forehead and black settings to its eyes.

Though all you find is the footprint of this nocturnal little fellow you may rest assured that somewhere, just above your head perhaps, he is snugly curled up in the hollow of a dead limb awaiting the darkness, when he will sally forth to seek his supper.

In the softly creeping twilight, when the woods become more mysterious, and one’s nerves are almost like the wild things in their quick response to sudden noises, the night prowlers begin to awake and stir about. Before darkness quite settles down is the time to make the acquaintance of the night birds, nocturnal insects, and some of the small animals which avoid the garish light of day.

Though they love darkness better than light these little creatures are just as harmless as the ones you have seen in the genial sunshine. Do not be startled, then, if a small dark body suddenly sails through the air near you, but watch it in its flight, see how it courses downward, always downward, on a gradual incline until, with a short upward curve, it alights on a low branch or trunk of a tree. From the summit of a tall pine its flight has been, perhaps, fifty yards, yet it has no wings and in the dim light you will see before you only a big-eyed, satin-coated little squirrel, and you will have met, it may forit may for the first time, your neighbor

Look closely and notice that he wears a suit of brownish gray, white underneath, bordered with black, which fits him so loosely about the legs and sides that when he stretches out Flying Squirrel.
Flying Squirrel. and flattens himself he may almost be said to be web-legged, and can sail through the air like a parachute.

The natural home of the flying squirrel is a hole in a tree, where he makes a soft nest, deep enough to burrow into until completely hidden. But a hole anywhere, except in the ground, attracts him. Whole families will take up their quarters in an unoccupied house if they can squeeze themselves through some crack or crevice, and will frequently refuse to vacate when the rightful owner appears and claims the premises.

I have several times made pets of the young flying squirrels, and they are the prettiest, most friendly and entertaining little things imaginable, as tame as kittens and as harmless. They are nocturnal in their habits, sleeping all day in their woolly nests and scampering about all night, full of mischief and merry play.

If you wake one of the baby squirrels from its nap and take the drowsy little thing in your hands you will love it immediately; it is so soft, so babyish, so unresisting.

A rare but most beautiful dweller in the woods is the

named for the moon and sometimes called the “queen of night.” One evening just at dusk it was my good fortune to find a luna moth clinging to a forest tree by the roadside. It had but recently emerged from its chrysalis and was slowly moving its delicate wings back and forth, drying them in the warm night air and strengthening them for flight.

The Tropœa luna, as the scientists call it, is one of the giant silk-worm moths. It has the large, fuzzy body of the moth, with the feather-like antennæ; but its wings are unusual in shape. Nearest the tail they are extended to form long appendages, which curve gracefully outward. The color is a delicate light green, the edges of the fore-wings are bordered with a band of purplish brown, and they are further ornamented with four large eyes.

Look on the ground under the walnut, hickory, or other hard-wood trees for the cocoon, as it is on these trees the larva feeds.

When daylight comes again seek the path which leads through

and once more you are among the little folk who love the warm, bright sunshine.

The birds leave the shade to sit on the old rail fence and sing joyously. You will see the busy little wren here, tripping about importantly, and the song-sparrow, too, which loves to perch on the top rail and sing its heart away. Hidden deep in the tangled grass or nestled amid the clover you may find the nest of the bobolink. Do you know the lines which occur in one of Saxe Holm’s stories:

When you remember these you will remember to look for the bobolink where you see the red clover.

There is a concert going on at this very minute; do you hear it? The high soprano is taking the lead, the soft, gurgling notes of the contralto are coming in, and now the whole chorus has burst into song and one of the sweetest of Nature’s anthems is being given. You must hear it, some of you, for no matter what the season, in this great land of ours, somewhere the warm summer sun is shining, somewhere, without money and without price, these beautiful songsters are pouring out their souls in exquisite melody.

Stop and think what the birds are doing for you; think of what life would be without them and how near akin they are to all that is joyous and bright within you; read “The Birds of Killingworth” in Longfellow’s “Tales of a Wayside Inn” and then wear the dead bodies of your little friends on your hats if you can.

As you cross the pasture be on the lookout for the

It is generally on the side of a hill or knoll, and in front of it is a small pile of earth which the woodchuck has taken out in his excavations. The hole is large enough for a small dog to enter, and leads to several tunnels, some of them twenty or twenty-five feet long. If you remain quietly near for awhile perhaps you will be rewarded by seeing the woodchuck, or ground-hog, as he is sometimes called, peep cautiously out of his front door and then come boldly forth to look about and see what is going on in the outer world. Make a sudden noise and he will sit up on his haunches with hanging forefeet, like a begging dog, and then dart into his hole to remain in hiding until it seems safe for him to venture out again.

The woodchuck is a snub-nosed little animal, a trifle larger than a good-sized rabbit. Its tail is short and bushy and its hair long, coarse, and of a brownish color, ears low and inconspicuous, and eyes round and bright. At the approach of winter he retires to his nest, which is in a chamber at the farthest end of his longest tunnel, there to sleep or hibernate until spring. A popular legend has it that on the second day of February the ground-hog—he is always a ground-hog in this connection—is sure to be up and out to see how high the sun is and investigate the general progress of things.

You know the rest of the story; how he prophesies an early or late spring by his actions on this important day. If he stays out we will have an early spring; if he goes back we will have winter weather for six weeks longer; and his going and staying are determined by the sun. This is because the ground-hog is supposed to be absurdly afraid of his shadow, which he has not seen for so long, and if the bright sunshine reveals it to him he is said to return ignominiously to his hole, where he will remain for another six weeks. If, on the other hand, the day proves cloudy, and there are no shadows to alarm him, he concludes that he has slept quite long enough, that there will be no more winter, and that it is high time to be up and about his business.

The farmers hunt the woodchuck because of its voracious appetite for green things. They say it takes more than its share of the farm products, and they make forcible objections.

June is the time to find the baby woodchucks, which in this month play like puppies around the entrance to their home.

And now these few remaining pages must be devoted to our small neighbors of

To some of them at least; a volume would not give space for all.

It is on rocky coasts or the shores of bays and inlets that you will find most of the creatures which make their home on the borders of the vast and mighty ocean. Along a rugged shore like that of Maine, where the storms and great breakers carry the water high upon the rocks, little pools are formed, and in one of these natural aquariums there is enough life for a summer’s study.

Undisturbed by the rising and falling tide, the water is transparently clear, and you can see distinctly all the inhabitants of this little water-world. Clinging to the rocky sides are what appear to be silvery pink moss and brilliant aquatic flowers. Lying at the bottom or amid the jagged stones are round, prickly looking balls which resemble chestnut burs, some of them no larger than a tiny pearl button. So much like vegetables do all these things appear, it seems hardly possible they are animals; yet the moss is sometimes called the

and some of the small bubble-like bags clinging to its stems, which give it the silvery appearance, are full of eggs that will hatch into minute jelly bodies. After various transformations and subdivisions these bodies develop into the wonderfully beautiful and fairy-like jelly-fish which you find swimming in the deep waters of the bay, some of them trailing long, filmy, lace-like skirts or veils as they move.

The delicate red, green, yellow, pink, and lavender blossoms, which add so much to the beauty of the pool, are

Animals, too, every one, living only on animal food, which they find and absorb in a peculiar manner. The fringed petals are in reality tentacles that reach out and draw food into the mouth at the centre, from which it is taken into the stomach just below.

How the baby sea-anemones are born, how they are cared for by their mother, how they are at first “foot loose” and afterward become fixtures on the rocks, you must study out for yourselves; the description here is but an introduction at best and must be necessarily brief.

The queer-looking green burs, which you will see moving about if you watch them closely, are the

You have, perhaps, found some of their beautiful shells on the beach, empty of all life and bleached quite white by Shell of Sea Urchin.
Shell of Sea Urchin. the sun. Where the green spines grew are regular rows of bead-like projections, looking like strings of pearls; but, lovely and pure as the shells are, they cannot possibly be as interesting as the real creatures, full of life, crawling about at the bottom of the crystal pool on Sea Urchin.
Sea Urchin. the tips of their prickly looking spines.

I have never found a live sea-urchin except in these quiet pools, probably because they do not like to subject themselves to the buffeting waves, and when in deep water hide in the crevices of the rocks or bury themselves in the seaweed.

Unlike the sea-anemone, they are vegetarians and seldom indulge in animal food. The mouth is underneath the little animal, where you find the round hole in the shell.

too you will probably see crawling over the rocks at the bottom of the pool. Although called by that name, these strange, five-fingered creatures are no more fish than the sea-urchins, and their life is not so much of the water as of the ground below. The starfish may swim, but it greatly prefers gliding about over the slippery stones and sandy bottom, searching for the small shellfish which form its food. If you will place a starfish in a small fish globe filled with salt water, or in any clear glass vessel that is large enough, you can see its numberless feet, which are little tubes projecting from the under side of the five rays. This wonderful waving mass of tube feet is quite concealed when we look at the animal from above, and until we have discovered them its rapid movements seem very marvellous.

There are barnacles looking like a part of the rock to which they are firmly attached, tiny crabs darting hither and thither, various species of small mollusks and numerous other forms of salt-water life to be found in Nature’s beautiful rock aquariums, but we must leave you to make their acquaintance alone, while wishing you much joy and happiness in your intercourse with these and all of your little neighbors.