My Elm-Tree Oriole. 133 



truth, but, overestimating ourselves, we turn 

 away, indifferent to their suggestiveness. Not 

 at all that birds are intended to be our teachers, 

 but he who neglects to profit by what happens 

 before his eyes neglecting it because not within 

 the pale of humanity throws away golden op- 

 portunities of bettering his life. Deaf to a 

 bird's song, he nurses many a sorrow that he 

 might drown, and cheats himself of the soul- 

 refreshing pleasure of music that is more than a 

 concourse of sweet sounds. The evening song 

 of a thrush, recalling other days and making the 

 present moment one of such exquisite pleasure 

 that every care in life is for the time forgotten, 

 lingers with us, soothing as some magic balm, 

 when the skill of the harper and voice of the 

 artiste have been quite forgotten. 



To me it is marvellously strange that the 

 world at large is so utterly indifferent to bird- 

 life, and that governments will spend millions 

 to protect the seals of a far-distant sea and 

 never lift a finger to stay the destroying hand of 

 a greedy few that profit by the slaughter of our 

 native birds, the birds of our door-yards even, 

 selling the skins of their victims to thoughtless 



