224 IN BIRD LAND. 
“No,” he responded innocently, as if my humble 
remembrance would confer an honor upon him ; 
‘‘ whenever you see that bird hereafter, you will 
think of me, won’t you?” I told himI should; and 
that evening in the marsh, a year later, 1 kept my 
tryst with memory, while tears, half sad, half glad, 
dimmed my eyes. 
But hark! A little farther on, from the sparse 
bushes of a grassy bank, came the swinging treble 
of a white-throated sparrow, like a votive offering. 
What enchantment possessed the birds that evening ? 
Had Orpheus with his miracle-working harp come 
back to earth? Iwas half tempted to believe for 
the nonce in the transmigration of souls, for the 
notes drifted so sadly sweet on the still air, as if 
the fabled minstrel had indeed returned to mundane 
realms. Among the thick clusters of weeds and 
bushes that fringed a railway, which I pursued in my 
homeward walk, many birds were going to roost, — 
sparrows, warblers, red-winged blackbirds, and car- 
dinal grossbeaks. My passing along alarmed them, 
and sent them dashing from their leafy couches. 
Thus the afternoon passed. I had not, perhaps, 
learned as many new things about my kinsmen in 
plumes as on many other rambles, but I had dis- 
covered the secret of appreciation ; that the mind 
must be unharassed by carking care or depressing 
sorrow to win the best from Nature. Give me a 
lightsome heart, and I will trudge with any pedestrian. 
Give me a heavy heart, and the weight clings to the 
soles of my feet like barnacles to a ship’s bottom. 
