230 THE CLEKK OF THE WOODS 



I would stay in till afternoon, I thought; 

 books, also, are a world, as Wordsworth said ; 

 but pretty soon the sun shone out ; things 

 looked too inviting. " I will go over as far 

 as Longfellow's Pond," said I. "Perhaps 

 there will be something in that quarter." 

 That was a happy thought. I was hardly in 

 the old cattle pasture, feeling it good to have 

 the grass under my feet once more, all 

 bleached and sodden though it was, when I 

 stopped. Wasn't that a bluebird's note? 

 No, it was probably nothing but my imagi- 

 nation. But the sound reached me again ; 

 faint, fugacious, just grazing the ear. I put 

 up my hands to my ears' help, and stood still. 

 Yes, I certainly heard it ; and this time I got 

 its direction. A glance that way and I saw 

 the bird, pretty far off, at the tip of an elm 

 sapling standing by itself down in a sheltered 

 hollow. I leveled my field-glass upon him 

 (it was well I had brought it), made sure of 

 his color, a piece of pure loveliness, and 

 hastened to get nearer. Before I could turn 

 the corner of the intervening wire fence, 

 however, he took flight, and another with 

 him. I followed hastily, and was approach- 



