410 NOTES ON THE 



the delicious Blue Bird or the elegant Oriole. Let it be the 

 humble country home of toil or the luxurious mansion where 

 wealth is lavished on the garden, in either case the Catbird 

 claims the rights of squatter sovereignty. He flirts saucily 

 across the well-worn path that leads to the well and sips the 

 water that collects in the shallow depression upon the flag- 

 stone. Down in the tangle of the moist dell, where stands the 

 spring-house with its cool, crisp atmosphere, redolent of but- 

 tery savor, where the trickling water is perpetual, he loiters 

 at ease and from the hearts of the greenbrier makes bold ad- 

 vances to the milk-maid who brings the brimming bowls. 



' 'In the pasture beyond he waits for the boy who comes whist- 

 ling after the cows, and follows him home by the blackberry 

 road that lies along the zigzag fence, challenging the carelessly 

 thrown stone he has learned to dodge with ease. He joins the 

 berrying party fresh from school, soliciting a game of hide and- 

 seek, and laughs at the mishap that never fails when children 

 try the brier patch. Along the hedgerow he glides with short 

 easy flights to gain the evergreen coppice that shades a corner 

 of the lawn, where he pauses to watch the old gardener trim- 

 ming the boxwood, or rolling the gravel walk, or making the 

 flower bed, wondering why some people will take so much 

 trouble when everything is nice enough already. 



"Ever restless and inquisitive he makes for the well known 

 arbor to see what may be going on there. What he discovers 

 is certainly none of his business. The rustic seat is occupied ; 

 the old, old play is in rehearsal, and at the sight of the blush- 

 ing cheeks that respond to passionate words the very roses on 

 the trellis hang their envious heads. The spectacle tickles his 

 fancy. Always ripe for mischief he startles the loving pair 

 with his quick, shrill cry, like a burlesque of the kiss just 

 heard, and chuckles at their little consternation. 'It is only a 

 Catbird' they reassuringly say, yet there are times when the 

 slightest jar is a shock, and pledges that hang in a trembling 

 balance may never be redeemed. 'Only a Catbird' meanwhile 

 remembers business of his own and is off. The practical ques- 

 tion of dining recurs. He means to dine sumptuously, and so 

 like the French philosopher place himself beyond the reach of 

 fate, but nature in the month of May is full of combustible 

 material, and the very atmosphere is quick to carry the torch 

 that was kindled in the arbor. His fate meets him in the only 

 shape that could so far restrain masculine instincts as to post- 

 pone a dinner. 



