Song Birds and Water Fowl 
rustic, homely feature of country life. The in- 
vigorating, fragrant breath of May is in its 
wealth of delicately odorous, snowy bloom, while 
its abundant harvest of glowing fruit, mellowing 
in the cool light of an October day, is sug- 
gestive of all the most comfortable thoughts of 
autumn. Its spirit is eminently sunshiny and 
rural. What better place could one choose 
beneath the sky wherein to doze, or read, or 
ruminate, than a grassy slope beneath the 
shadow of an apple-tree? We cherish a sort of 
moral respect, too, for a tree that chiefly aims 
to be useful, without any pretensions to being 
ornamental. For, in truth, this tree is not of 
the kind that can shine in arboreal ‘‘society.”’ 
It cuts no fine and courtly figure, like the elm. 
To use a word so attractive in its radical 
sense, but slightly opprobrious in its applied 
meaning, our dear old apple-tree is decidedly 
‘¢countrified.’” The maple, the elm, and the 
beech at once find themselves at home in the 
city, as ‘*to the manner born ;’’ but the apple- 
tree, never! The very incongruous thought of 
such a thing is a standing protest against its 
transplantation ; and I am positive that the 
tree itself would, figuratively speaking, vigor- 
ously kick at the idea. 
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