Peripatetic Meditations 



much material and some of it, I know, was that 

 which they had removed. 



As I have sometimes seen, I did not, in this 

 case, note the wrens and sparrows actually 

 come to blows. It was a war of words and no one 

 could have heard it and not have been convinced 

 that birds' vocal powers have a wider range 

 than the utterance of musical sounds. If it is 

 possible to interpret what we hear and see in 

 other creatures than ourselves, then there was 

 talking as well as expletive, to and fro, 'twixt 

 wren and sparrow. 



A stormy day, at last, an indoor day, and I 

 have opened a book for the first time in a month. 

 I soon tired of it. My recollections of recent 

 out-door rambles were too vivid and the con- 

 trast 'twixt book and memory too great and to 

 the former's disadvantage. Why not be enter- 

 tained with indoor thoughts of our own think- 

 ing? 



In modern houses we are too far from the 

 storm. We may not wish to feel it, but I pro- 

 test against shutting out all sight and sound of 

 it. The shelter of an open shed is my ideal of 

 a refuge. I love to hear the rain upon the roof. 



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