Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



peaceful hill-side, a hymn to stir the better feel- 

 ings of the most indifferent. Hearing blue-jays 

 at such a time, it becomes quite evident that a 

 bird's song was not intended for man's enjoy- 

 ment, as has been seriously asserted. Never- 

 theless, we can get a great deal of satisfaction 

 out of it, sharing the music with the birds with- 

 out robbing them. But I did not come to the 

 hill-side to philosophize over bird-song, but to 

 listen, and let it be understood that there is an 

 art of listening. There is no such thing as a 

 meaningless sound. It is a contradiction to 

 speak of what we hear as having no significance, 

 but the meaning of any sound may or may 

 not be of importance to us. The footstep of a 

 detective may not disturb our day-dreams, but 

 bring a vision of the gallows to the pursued 

 criminal. As a matter of fact, the nearest to 

 meaningless sounds are those made by man. 

 Compare for a moment his clumsy tread with 

 the scarcely detected footsteps of a wood-mouse. 

 The man is absolutely nothing to us ; would 

 not be missed, if never heard of; but the day 

 was never long enough to watch a dainty white- 

 footed wood-mouse pick its way through the 



