The Building of the Nest 



silence. Rain or shine, day or night, 

 in storm or calm, its drowsy tick-tock 

 talk goes on forever; and when at 

 night the firelight shadows play around 

 its face, its subtle, soothing power is 

 at its best. 



And there is a picture painted on the 

 dial. You know it well. I scarce need 

 tell about it. The same that has been 

 painted on clock faces ever since men 

 first became familiar with red-roofed 

 gabled houses, with purling streams, 

 birds, flowers and trees, for back- 

 ground. Once I was well acquainted 

 with another clock that stood upon 

 an old-time kitchen shelf. I don't even 

 know who has it now. I wish I did. 

 I would go a long way to see it. And 

 yet, what would be the use, for is it 

 not before me now? Can one forget 

 such things? The peaceful landscape 

 done in colors gay upon its dial is 

 likely badly faded now. And there 

 was a little church in the background. 



