FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



the listener edged this way and that, more 

 anxious than the bird, twice over, scanning the 

 tops of the trees for a sight of the ruddy breast. 

 He saw nothing, and anon all was silent. The 

 bird had eluded him. A Western robin, he sup- 

 posed it must have been, and as such he would 

 have given something for a sight of it. Well, if 

 he lived a week or two longer, he should be in 

 California, and there, with any kind of luck, he 

 would find out for himself, what no book had 

 ever been considerate enough to tell him, whether 

 the calls of propinqua are so exactly the same 

 as those of plain migratoria. Meantime he had 

 added another name to his Grand Canon list, and 

 was back at the Point for another turn with the 

 Eighth Wonder. 



And then, as frequently before and after, he 

 laughed quietly at his foolish self, so taken with 

 the sight of a bird, and so inadequately moved 

 by all this transcendent spectacle of form and 

 color. Verily, as common wisdom has it, it takes 

 all kinds to make a world ; and among the all 

 kinds there must needs be a few odd ones. 



But for all his laughing, he was really not 

 quite so absurdly insensible as he was perversely 

 inclined to make out. The Wonder was growing 

 upon him. He looked at it oftener and longer, 

 and with something more of pleasurable emotion, 

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