A MOUNTAIN POND 77 



of Highlands, he answered that he saw 

 nothing surprising about it ; he did n't 

 know what swallows were, neither. Martins 

 he knew, purple martins, though there 

 were none hereabout, so far as I could 

 discover, but " swallow," as a bird's name, 

 was a novelty he had never heard of. Here 

 on Stewart's bridge I might have tested the 

 condition of another resident's mind upon 

 the same point, but unfortunately the ex- 

 periment did not occur to me. He came 

 along on horseback, and I called his atten- 

 tion to the swallows shooting to and fro 

 over the water, a pretty spectacle anywhere, 

 but doubly so in this swallow-poor country. 

 He manifested no very lively interest in the 

 subject ; but he made me a civil answer, 

 which is perhaps more than a hobby-horsical 

 catechist, who travels up and down the 

 world cross-examining his busy fellow 

 mortals, has any good reason for counting 

 upon in such a case. With so many things 

 to be seen and done in this short life, it is 

 obvious that all men's tastes cannot run to 

 ornithology. "Yes," the stranger said, 

 glancing at the swallows, " I expect they 

 have their nests under the bridge." A 



