An October Outing. 155 



He has deaf ears who finds it only a pleasant 

 but unsuggestive sound. As we draw a circle 

 to represent our globe, so a single note of a 

 bluebird tells me the story of the round year. 

 It is again spring, with all that the season of 

 promise means to us ; it is again summer, with 

 earth's goodliest gifts before us ; it is autumn, 

 rich with ripened fruit and brilliant color ; it is 

 winter, only dreary to those who know not what 

 this season means. If danger still exists, let 

 Audubon Societies everywhere come to the 

 bluebird's rescue. We never exhaust a local- 

 ity, however frequently we pass through it, yet, 

 strangely enough, we assume this on our return 

 from the outermost limit of our walls. Every- 

 thing happens, so it is recorded in the books, 

 when going out ; nothing when coming in. 

 This really means that we are wearied of sight- 

 seeing by the middle of the day, and long for 

 an afternoon nap. We lose about one-half of 

 our possibilities by giving way to a desire to re- 

 turn. Expend all your energy in locomotion, 

 and the world is two blank walls, between which 

 you hurry. You can narrow the widest meadow 

 until it is little better than a prison cell. All 



