A LOWLAND TRILLEE. 



Two birds especially are to blame — bless 

 them for it ! — for my ardor in the study of 

 feathered people — the song sparrow and the 

 goldfinch. It was a good many years ago — 

 more than I care to tell — when, one day of 

 spring, while reading a book by a delightful 

 author on Nature and birds, I became so ex- 

 cited over the field that seemed to open sud- 

 denly before me, that I could not remain in- 

 doors, but rushed out to learn what I could 

 see with my own eyes. 



In the maples along the streets the gold- 

 finches were singing their childlike lays. How 

 beautiful they were ! And yet I had probably 

 often heard them before without even a thought 

 of their sweetness. But a still greater surprise 

 was in store for me. A broad, winding river, 

 whose banks were embroidered with bushes 

 and trees, flowed past the town only a block 

 from my house, and thither I hurried. What 

 were those rapturous trills that came up from 

 the bushes on the banks on both sides of the 



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