60 NEW HAMPSHIRE 



tain to come now and then upon a brook. I am 

 on the edge of one now, and as the sun at this 

 moment shines out between two clouds I stand 

 still to enjoy the warmth while it lasts, and at the 

 same time to hear the singing of the water. Good 

 music, I call it, and fear no contradiction. It has 

 the quality of some of the best verse liquidity. 

 It is broken unevenly into syllables, yet it is true 

 to the beat, and it flows. In short, it is smooth, 

 yet not too smooth with the smoothness of 

 water, not of oil. It speaks to every boulder as 

 it passes. I wish my ear were more at home in 

 the language. 



There is seldom a minute when, if I pause to 

 listen, I cannot hear from one direction or an- 

 other the quaint, homely, twangy, countryfied, 

 yet to me always agreeable voice of Canadian 

 nuthatches. At frequent intervals one or two 

 come near enough so that I see them creeping 

 about over the trees, bodies bent, heads down, 

 always in search of a mouthful, yet keeping up, 

 every one, his share of the universal chorus. As 

 well as I can judge, all the evergreen forests of 

 this Northern country are now alive with these 

 pretty creatures ; for they really are pretty. In 

 fact, there are few forest birds for whom I cher- 

 ish a kindlier feeling. It is too bad they do not 

 summer in our Massachusetts woods, though pos- 



