August 



and bobbing heads, half walking, half running 

 at the water's edge on the other shore. It 

 seemed a little remarkable that, whichever side 

 of the stream I might be on, those tilting little 

 sandpipers were sure to be on the opposite side 

 so like some folks. A phoebe also was linger- 

 ing about the water. It was no holiday for him, 

 he had a keen eye to business, and was making 

 frequent sallies from the branch of an ancient, 

 Calvinistic oak gnarled with age, and scarred 

 with adversity, but grim and defiant to the 

 outermost twig ; beneath whose angular shade 

 on a stretch of sloping green I lay and watched 

 the shallow, eddying current, whose incessant 

 flow seemed to palliate my own supreme idle- 

 ness. 



A drove of cows returning home from pasture, 

 lazily stopping here and there to browse, and 

 one after the other splashing through the water 

 with true bovine dignity and enjoyment, or 

 standing in its delicious coolness luxuriant 

 trees growing from the margin, and casting long 

 shadows as the sun declined a troop of red- 

 winged blackbirds flying about and chattering 

 loudly as they settled in the trees, with now and 

 then the daintier tone of some mellow-voiced 

 goldfinches cliff and bank swallows with flinty 

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