The Rambles of an Idler 



"A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and 

 that which hath wings shall tell the matter." 



There is a good deal in a name, so much, in- 

 deed, that we cannot free ourselves of its influ- 

 ence. I found ice this morning long after sun- 

 rise, and looking miles and miles away, over 

 upland and meadow, saw not a single green 

 thing. The bleakness of December everywhere 

 prevailed, but not with the same feelings as I 

 would have then did I look out upon the world. 

 It was April first, and that day and date pre- 

 sents its claims in no uncertain way. Not all it 

 stands for can be held back. I waited but a 

 moment to have the mystery cleared. There 

 was a clattering in the treetops ; a flock of pur- 

 ple grakles had brought the message of the 

 month a bird of the air had carried the voice 

 . . . that which hath wings had told the mat- 

 ter. 



It seems positively cruel to awake, at times, 

 to the fact that our impulsive explanations are 

 whimsical. Even these noisy grakles were pos- 

 itively musical while I fancied them bearing a 

 message from April to the expectant earth. 

 But if we are brought rudely to face the fact 

 that they were merely singing after their fash- 



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