Ipretace 



the wilderness and the music-sheets of the 

 winds. A man's song is his property ; a 

 bird's song is the robber's own. If I 

 snatch a sketch from nature's easel, even 

 before its colors are dry, I go my way 

 refreshed by my theft. 



And the next thing after doing a deed 

 is to tell about it so that it shall not lose 

 the smack of native distinction, that fra- 

 grant and pungent something which in 

 fruit we call a zest. To this end I have 

 relied largely upon notes scratched down, 

 hurriedly sometimes and sometimes with 

 self-conscious deliberation, in all sorts of 

 places and under the varied circumstances 

 of a wandering, out-of-doors life given to- 

 day to a book and a pleasant forest shade, 

 to-morrow to my sporting-tackle, and the 

 day after, perhaps, to a sail on some 

 lonely and lovely bay, with a stiff breeze 

 and the old Greek's " multitudinous laugh 

 of the sea" clashing bravely in my ears. 



