THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 67 



GRACE 



If by grace we narrowly mean that 

 aesthetic charm which is revealed by light- 

 ness, suppleness, and ease, then (not for- 

 getting the herring gull, and not forget- 

 ting the square-rigged ship under full 

 sail) the most graceful moving object in 

 existence is, I would affirm, a flying barn 

 swallow. 



I am remembering this very minute a 

 certain old barn in New Hampshire. It 

 has no color, excepting the stain from 

 rain and snow. From dawn till dark the 

 big doors are wide open, like the arms of 

 mercy, and darting in and out are swal- 

 lows in the sunlight mere streaks of blue 

 rich, warm, glinting, purplish blue, with 

 confused minor touches of white, salmon, 

 and chestnut. 



And the flight! What poet-naturalist 

 ever did or could describe flying barn 

 swallows? But even a small attempt is 

 alluring. They skim, flying low over pas- 

 ture and pond ; then flying higher over the 



