184 THE PSYCHICAL KINSHIP 



There is many a heart with a slabless grave far 

 from the haunts of men, and many a tear in secret 

 brews that never wets the eye. 



The individual who has never acquired the 

 enthusiasm for a knowledge of the birds and a 

 love for their presence and association has omitted 

 some of the richest emotions of life. ' The sight 

 of a bird or the sound of its voice is at all times 

 an event of such significance to me,' says Chap- 

 man, 'a source of such unfailing pleasure, that 

 when I go afield with those to whom birds are 

 strangers I am deeply impressed by the compara- 

 tive barrenness of their world, for they live in 

 ignorance of a great store of enjoyment that might 

 be theirs for the asking.' 



I cannot love the man who does not love, 

 As men love light, the song of happy birds.' 



I have seen a mother mouse in a moment of 

 peril flee from her home among the falling pieces 

 of a cord- wood pile, and disappear under the roots 

 of a neighbouring oak. I have seen her a little 

 later, recovered from her initial dismay, making 

 her way back again, clambering along among the 

 tangled timbers, stopping now and then to look 

 and listen, her eyes wild and anxious, and her 

 whole little body quaking with excitement. I 

 have seen her go among the ruins of her dwelling, 

 take a poor little squeaking young one in her 

 mouth, and hurry away with it to the gloomy 

 refuge in the roots of the oak. I have watched 

 her return again and again, each time taking in 



