THE RESTING TIME OF THE 

 BIRDS 



1 HIS morning I heard the bluebirds 

 again for the first time for weeks. 

 They came up from the pasture to the 

 apple trees and sang their modest little 

 snatches of song in that shyly sweet, re- 

 served yet fond, manner which makes 

 the bluebird the best loved of all our 

 pasture birds. There have been no blue- 

 birds about my garden since the yegg 

 raid of late May and its resulting 

 tragedy. Now they are back, but there 

 is in their call a. note of sadness which 

 indeed comes into the voice of every 

 bluebird as autumn approaches, though 

 I think it is accentuated in mine this 

 year. 



