236 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



Saturday, the 23d, was cloudless, a rare 

 event at this time of the year, and with 

 an outdoor neighbor I made an excursion 

 to Wayland, to see what might be visible 

 and audible in those broad Sudbury River 

 meadows. 



We took a " round " familiar to us (to 

 one of us, at least), down the road to the 

 north bridge and causeway, thence through 

 the woods on the opposite side of the river to 

 a main thoroughfare, or turnpike, and back 

 to the village again over the south causeway. 

 Meadow larks were in full tune, now from a 

 treetop, now from a fence-post. They were 

 my first ones since the autumn, and their 

 music was relished accordingly. 



As we stopped on the bridge to look down 

 the blue river and across the overflowed 

 meadow lands to a gray, flat-topped hill far 

 beyond toward Concord, we suddenly discov- 

 ered a shining white object on the surface of 

 the water. It proved to be a duck, one of 

 two, jet black and snow white, and presum- 

 ably a merganser, though it was too far away 

 to be made out with positiveness. Thoreau, 

 I remember, makes frequent mention of 



