AN OWL'S HEAD HOLIDAY. 268 
It was pleasant to see how cheerfully he re- 
sumed work as soon as the alarm was over. 
This danger was escaped, at any rate; and why 
should he make himself miserable with worry- 
ing about the next? He had the true philoso- 
phy. We who pity the birds for their number- 
less perils are ourselves in no better case. Con- 
sumption, fevers, accidents, enemies of every 
name are continually lying in wait for our de- 
struction. We walk surrounded with them ; 
seeing them not, to be sure, but knowing, all 
the same, that they are there ; yet feeling, too, 
like the birds, that in some way or other we 
shall elude them a while longer, and holding 
at second hand the truth which these humble 
creatures practice upon instinctively, — “ Sufh- 
cient unto the day is the evil thereof.” 
Not far from this spot, on a previous occa- 
sion, I had very unexpectedly come face to face 
with another of the creeper’s blood-thirsty per- 
secutors. It happened that a warbler was sing- 
ing in a lofty birch, and being in doubt about 
the song (which was a little like the Nash- 
ville’s, but longer in each of its two parts and 
ending with a less confused flourish), I was of 
course very desirous to see the singer. But 
to catch sight of a small bird amid thick foli- 
age, fifty feet or more above you, is not an easy 
matter, as I believe I have already once re- 
