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as one might think. The pond and mill are too 

 closely related to be dissociated in thought, and 

 where nature holds undisputed sway one cannot 

 weary. The head of the mill-pond, the most 

 distant point from the venerable building, was 

 as quiet as the mill itself when the water-gates 

 are closed. The shallow waters, gatherings of 

 many springs, teemed with life, and not a lily 

 upon the quiet surface of the spot had lost its 

 perfect purity. I was the sole invader, and how 

 apt are uninvited guests to be awkward? Of 

 course I brushed the wild roses where they were 

 thickest set, and broke the stoutest stems of 

 pickerel weed and arrow-leaf, placed where they 

 showed to excellent advantage and gave the 

 final touches to a perfect picture. Is our clumsi- 

 ness a hint that man should stay at home ? Near 

 by was a little heronry, and every little green 

 heron squawked its indignation. They looked at 

 me, while perched upon the scattered dead trees 

 that projected from the water, as if they had the 

 wish, but not the courage, to pierce me with their 

 sharp beaks. I sat quietly in my boat, hoping 

 that they would gain confidence and accept me 

 as a guest. I am glad now that I did this, for 

 there were other herons there, as it proved, little 

 blue ones, whose babies are white when they 

 leave the nest, but, finding the world not rose- 

 colored, get a fit of the blues and retain it all their 

 lives. The unlearned ornithologists of our learned 

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