UNDER APRIL CLOUDS 253 



Unfavorable as the weather is, however, 

 and against all probabilities, one cannot quite 

 forego seasonable expectations. I pass the 

 border of a grass field. A sparrow sings in 

 the distance, and I stop to listen. Could 

 that have been a vesper sparrow ? The 

 song comes again. No ; it begins a little in 

 the vesper's manner ; the opening measure 

 is unusually smooth and unemphatic; but 

 the bird is only a song sparrow. It is no 

 shrewder than Peter. Its speech bewray- 

 eth it. 



One kingfisher I have seen, shooting 

 through the misty air far aloft, his long 

 wings making him look at that height like 

 some seabird or wader. I remember when 

 the sight not uncommon in spring was 

 to me an insoluble mystery. As for calling 

 the bird a kingfisher, such a thought never 

 occurred to me. I knew the kingfisher well 

 enough, or imagined that I did, but not at 

 that altitude and flying in that strong, pur- 

 poseful manner. Yet even at such times he 

 commonly sounds his rattle before him, as 

 if he wished his identity and his where- 

 abouts to be known. 



