WAYSIDE RAMBLES. 23 
But hold! I might go rambling on in this way 
forever, like Tennyson’s brook, — or, possibly, like 
Ixion revolving on his wheel, — describing the odd 
pranks witnessed in my wayside rambles. It is 
high time, however, to call a halt; yet, after a brief 
breathing-space, these miscellanies will be resumed 
in the next chapter, which may, with some degree 
of propriety, be entitled “ Bird Curios.” 
