72 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 



sent the allegory of diurnal transmutation, for his 

 sable pinions close around the brightness of his 

 vesture, as night encompasses golden hues of sunset, 

 while the clear white space enfolded in these tints 

 foretells the dawn of the morrow." 



That morning I knew nothing of the history or 

 the habits of this unknown and misrepresented bird. 

 All I knew was that for me the twenty-ninth day of 

 January, 1917, would be marked in my calendar 

 forever by a bird from the north, all dusky gold and 

 velvet black and ivory white — the Day of the Even- 

 ing Grosbeak. 



At last the time came to leave them. As I started 

 back for home, the sun showed through the trees 

 like a vast red coal, with a smoke of clouds drifting 

 across its face, and I traveled back to town in the 

 full glory of a clear winter morning, filled with the 

 measureless content of a great discovery. It was 

 good to be alive and to look forward to more work 

 and to more glorious, adventure-filled runaway days. 



