TiXHben (Brass is Green 



it is moving or still. Remember it has a purpose, 

 and it is the naturalist's business to determine what 

 it is. 



Fish or no fish, teeming or empty waters, it was 

 a beautiful place, and I had scarcely taken a seat 

 in a cosy nook than a rose-breasted grosbeak be- 

 gan singing. It is an entrancing song, rivaling 

 any of our thrushes' best efforts; then a mourning 

 dove dolorously held forth. This was provoking, 

 but how like human experiences generally. Sad- 

 ness casts so great a shadow in the world, gaiety 

 forever trails her skirts within it. Then a blinking 

 frog popped his head above the water, and gave 

 one loud, deep-toned grunt and disappeared. Did 

 he too express his disapproval of the dove's com- 

 plaining. To me it seemed so, and I laughed 

 aloud. This broke the spell, and all the doves in 

 creation could not have given me the blues. The 

 grosbeak still sang at short intervals, and, when he 

 did not, that marvel of restless energy, the Caro- 

 lina wren, broke in with a shrill " keep it up, keep 

 it up, pitch in, jolly ! " Truly, of a bright May 

 day the dove is out of place. My merry-making 

 friends passed by, and that common scold, the 

 crested flycatcher, took their place. It was a ter- 

 rible come-down from the sublime to the ridicu- 

 lous. Why it should ever attempt to sing or even 

 to speak with such a voice is a hard problem to 

 solve. That such discordant utterance can be of 

 any use is hard to imagine. It sounds like a scoid- 

 110 



