An August Reverie. 217 



periences in observation. For hours it never left 

 the tree, and seldom its perch. Its greatest jour- 

 ney was as short as " from the blue bed to the 

 brown," and all the while it rang the brief changes 

 of its sprightly song. Whether the sun poured its 

 torrent of fervid rays upon it, or a passing cloud 

 sheltered it and wooed a reviving breeze, mattered 

 not; its sole aim was to rejoice that its lines had 

 fallen in such pleasant places. 



The world was given over to happiness alone, 

 in the mind of the dreamer ; but, alas ! things are 

 not always what they seem. Far overhead a dark 

 spot flecked the summer sky. It meant death to 

 many a happy songster should it come too near. 

 There are feathered as well as human demons. 

 Why, indeed, should a falcon have been cre- 

 ated ? Its passing shadow chilled half a hundred 

 hearts. 



But the world was not made for singing-birds 

 alone. The air trembled with the hum of count- 

 less myriads of lesser creatures, and every one re- 

 joiced in the fulness of its heart. I pressed my 

 head to the ground, and a tremor, as if every 

 blade of grass was singing, rang in my ear. Every 

 K 19 



