THE BITTERN'S LOVE SONG. 



ON Saturday, May 9, spring had the sulks. 

 In the afternoon a bitterly cold east wind de- 

 pressed birds, discouraged flowers, turned the 

 sky gray, and left the sun looking like a red 

 wafer. So dim was it that at four o'clock I 

 turned my opera glass on it and scanned it as 

 though it were only the moon. If a May east 

 wind has this chilling effect upon the sun, what 

 wonder that its blast makes poor mortals miser- 

 able! 



The sun had a black spot on his face. It 

 looked large enough to be Mercury or Venus 

 taking a transit on the sly. 



I went by an afternoon train to Waverley and 

 walked thence to Rock Meadow on Beaver Brook. 

 Maps of recent date call this brook " Clematis 

 Brook," a pretty name, no doubt, but one never 

 approved by the General Court. It was at the 

 foot of Rock Meadow that the beavers made their 

 dam, lived, died, and passed into history. Surely 

 the branch of the brook where the beavers lived 

 should .be called Beaver Brook, rather than the 

 branch where beavers never lived and never could 



