Peripatetic Meditations 



Even when May has to face clouds, fog, driz- 

 zle or beating rain, her gladness shows through 

 her tears and the rambler laughs at her plight 

 more than he sympathizes with her. woe. If all 

 that follow in her train are not disturbed, why 

 should we be cast down? The chilly east wind 

 might have been more considerate and staid on 

 the ocean, I felt, at first; but the birds seemed 

 not to mind it and sang as usual. Swallows, that 

 yesterday filled with life the empty space above, 

 now gathered on the wires of the electric rail- 

 way; but they twittered contentedly accepting 

 the chill day with becoming cheerfulness. One 

 good thing happened. The north-bound war- 

 blers were induced to stop over for a time, and 

 when I saw to-day the fire-fronted Blackbur- 

 nian, the matter of foul weather was absolutely 

 forgotten. 



Their song was an earnest invitation to re- 

 main afield. See, see, see, see! I did see a 

 great deal for a dreary day. Saw that wild life 

 took things philosophically. The rain was 

 needed and perhaps they knew it. Psychology : 

 says otherwise and limits animal intelligence to 

 mere rudiments. Perhaps. I should like to 

 have birds ' eyes in my head for half a day and 



171 



