Impressions 



ous in the days of blackberry pie. To antici- 

 pate it, when amid-fields, however hot the day, 

 is, of itself, refreshing. 



Hearing its shrill call as I lingered under the 

 oaks, I thought of other days when the Carolina 

 wren is a more prominent feature of my hill- 

 side slope. Now, in July, its varied notes are 

 tiresome, but later the exodus of the summer 's 

 songsters would be a serious matter if there 

 were no birds to take their places and for a 

 season, silence reigned where music had been 

 the foremost feature of the day. Happily, with 

 the passing of the thrush, there comes to mind 

 the necessity of greater sociability on the part 

 of this Carolina wren and our regrets that the 

 rose-breast and oriole have left us are softened 

 by the earnest comforter which whistles with 

 startling emphasis: Why heed it? Why heed 

 if? 



It is well put. The wren offers to lead us 

 into still pleasant places. Our summer friends 

 will come again, but while away, it is not dis- 

 loyalty to make new ones. Our wren is a bird 

 of all the year, but never seen or heard to so 

 great an advantage as when, to men's eyes, the 



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