JULY 



19 



In the evening, if you walk through the dusking 

 fields or by the deeper-shadowed wood borders, an 

 enchanted bird flits on before you, lighting now 

 on the fence rail, now on some conspicuous stone, 

 and thence throwing out a lure of brief, sweet mel- 

 ody touched by twilight and the dew. This is the 

 vesper sparrow. 



EDITH M. THOMAS: Birds and "Birds." 



20 



The bullfrogs trump to usher in the night, and 

 the note of the whip-poor-will is borne on the rip- 

 pling wind from over the water. Sympathy with 

 the fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes 

 away my breath ; yet, like the lake, my serenity is 

 rippled but not ruffled. These small waves raised 

 by the evening wind are as remote from storm as 

 the smooth reflecting surface. Though it is now 

 dark, the wind still blows and roars in the wood, 

 the waves still dash, and some creatures lull the 

 rest with their notes. The repose is never complete. 



THOBEAU: Walden. 



