174 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



the old oaks than in the meadows, for the leaf- 

 less branches are so many and interlaced, they 

 shut out the light. On a dark day, to go into 

 the woods is like passing from the gloaming to 

 night ; yet here, facing a forbidding east wind, 

 the Carolina wren was singing. Not humming 

 to itself to rouse the memory of brighter days, 

 but a whole-souled declaration of content, though 

 the sky was gray and an east wind muttered 

 vengeance as it hurried by. I hear this bird all 

 the year through. It is my daily companion, 

 and never a thought of desolation when it is 

 singing at my elbow. There is no desolation. 

 Looking at the world from the library window, 

 seeing nothing and hearing less, what right have 

 we to be so critical of Nature's methods ? The 

 browns of autumn make the greens of spring 

 less tiresome, and when many birds, or even one, 

 can be as cheerful as a Carolina wren, although 

 every feature of the day be forbidding, why 

 should mankind declaim against the desolation 

 of the outlook? It is infinitely better to be 

 warmed by the assuring songs of a bird than to 

 hover over the register of a stuffy room. No- 

 vember fogs, east winds, clouded skies ! Go 



