Where Town and Country Meet 



far-sounding, raucous scream that he uses 

 when doing self-imposed sentinel duty; the 

 other is a thin, short, metallic cry that 

 sounds in the distance like the ringing of a 

 small hammer on a blacksmith's anvil. The 

 latter sound is almost musical, and, with its 

 associations, soon grows to be inexpressibly 

 pleasing to one who loves to ramble at all 

 seasons of the year. 



Another autumn bird cry, harsh in itself, 

 but softened by surroundings and associ- 

 ations, is that of the crow a restless bird 

 always, but more than ever so when frosty 

 weather has set in and pilgrimages, both 

 long and short, are in order. He labors over 

 the woods on heavy wing, cawing gruffly as 

 he goes, without apparent reason unless it 

 be to express his troubled and dissatisfied 

 state of mind. Perhaps he is thinking of the 

 hard times ahead though heaven knows 

 times are always hard enough for a hearty 

 eater, with such thievish and forbidden 

 tastes as his! No doubt his stomach is 

 empty now, and he knows not where nor 

 how to fill it. 



Strangely enough, the almost domesti- 

 cated robin, that has nested in the apple-tree 

 164 



