The Road to Dumbiedykes 



the bird at the brim of the brook 

 although not always with the same 

 good judgment. That which dear old 

 Montaigne sets down as the greatest 

 of all human pleasures is duplicated 

 all day long in the billing and cooing 

 to be seen in any dove-cote. All 

 mothers have the same instinctive 

 love for their young, and the little life 

 of all alike is "rounded by a sleep." 

 Beyond this we know naught. To 

 be sure we humans have our faith in 

 the life beyond. So has "Bob White" 

 down there in that lower field, also, 

 for aught I know. 



Well, anyhow, we grew to be good 

 friends. Just why they came, as fall 

 approached, to seek winter quarters 

 in the lawn at Dumbiedykes we shall 

 never know. Possibly they recog- 

 nized me as a brother. I do not know. 

 If by any form of telepathy they could 

 read my thoughts and sound my feel- 

 ings toward them, I am sure that they 

 would have known that they would 

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