120 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



place or season sunlight and the bark of a 

 tree! 



In the branches overhead are chestnut- 

 loving blackbirds, every one with a crack in 

 his voice. Far away a crow is cawing, and 

 from another direction a jay screams. These 

 speak to the world at large. Half the 

 township may hear what they have to offer. 

 I like them ; may their speech never be a 

 whit softer or more musical ; but if compari- 

 sons are in order, I give my first vote for less 

 public more intimate birds, such as 

 speak only to the grove or the copse. And 

 even as I confess my preference, a bluebird's 

 note confirms it : a voice that caresses the 

 ear ; such a tone as no human mouth or hu- 

 manly invented instrument can ever pro- 

 duce the like of. He has no need to sing. 

 His simplest talk is music. 



Here, by the wayside, a few asters have 

 sprung up after the scythe, and are freshly 

 in flower. How blue they are ! And how 

 much handsomer a few stalks of them look 

 now than a full acre did two months ago. So 

 acceptable is scarcity. There is nothing to 

 equal it for the heightening of values. It is 



