IX. 



DOWN THE MEADOW. 



THE bird-baby world was not bounded by 

 any pasture, however enchanting, and I have 

 not told all the charms of this one. The house 

 where I found bed and board, in the intervals 

 of bird study, once a farmhouse, now an " inn 

 of rest " for a country-loving family, was hap- 

 pily possessed of two attractions : the pasture 

 toward which I turned with the morning sun, 

 and a meadow which drew me when shadows 

 grew long in the afternoon. This meadow be- 

 gan at the road passing in front of the house, 

 and extended to the salt marsh which separated 

 us from the sea. The marsh was always a 

 beautiful picture, 



" Stretching off in a pleasaut plain 

 To the terminal blue of the main." 



It was never twice the same, for it changed 

 with every passing cloud, with every phase of 

 the weather, with every tide ; one never tired 

 of it. And it was full of winged life : not only 

 the beautiful gulls, 



" Whose twinkling wings half lost amid the blue," 



