The Best of the Bass 137 



bereft ; thou widow of one dry eye, with t'other rov- 

 ing for a comforter; thou male with female voice 

 and gentle wile. Aye ! Pat thy fat side with crafty 

 wing and bow thy shapely head in mock humility 

 all's fair in love. But that same wing can whistle 

 in arrow-flight, and strike full lustily should swear- 

 ing trooper squirrel thrust his bold nose above the 

 twig-wove platform where two white eggs lie. A 

 rasping jar a cymbal lightly clashed; a form of 

 steel and bronze o'erlaid on jet, a heavy flight, a 

 gleam of an eye like a diamond flashing from its 

 kindred coal ; a tail awry which seems to drag like 

 an idle oar the grackle. From an unseen meadow 

 above floats a sound as though some sprite had stolen 

 a string of gold and silver bells and was madly rac- 

 ing hither and thither from keen pursuit. But let us 

 leave the bobolinks, and their neighbors the larks and 

 sparrows, the orioles, thrushes, catbirds, warblers, 

 finches, climbers, and what not. The air is vibrant 

 with their voices, but we are not a-birding to-day. 

 Here is the spot, it is the hour, and Don and I are 

 the people. 

 A log 



Half sunk in the slimy wave, 

 Rots slowly away in its living grave, 



And the green moss creeps o'er its dull decay 

 Hiding the mouldering dust away 



Like the hand that plants o'er the tomb a flower 

 Or the ivy that mantles the fallen tower. 



Don is all expectancy as the canoe is drawn up 

 and the tackle adjusted. Next to actual shooting 

 he loves fishing, and he sits with wrinkled forehead 

 in such patience as he can muster. I decide to try 



