WOODLAND PATHS 



melody of gentle brooks tinkling over 

 shallows, and the piping of winds in hol- 

 low marsh reeds, they reproduced in their 

 songs, and the whole was jumbled in this 

 uproarious medley. They even shamed a 

 robin or two into singing, the first time 

 I have heard these laggards do it this 

 year, though they have been here in force 

 for some weeks. 



There seemed to be no cause for this 

 other than the joy of living. It was just 

 an impromptu concert in honor of the 

 spring. I think I never noticed before 

 how vigorously the blackbird uses his 

 tail at one of these concerts. All the 

 long black tails present worked up and 

 down as if each were a pump-handle 

 working a bellows to supply wind for the 

 pipings. It reminded me of the church 

 organ-loft, and the labors of the boy when 

 the choir is in full swing and the organ- 

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