56 NATURE IN A CITY YARD 



descend to associate with us, and are al- 

 ways interesting, for they never lay bare 

 their thoughts to us. They are full of sur- 

 prises. Why does the horse bolt furiously 

 up the street and kill several of us if, for 

 the twentieth time in a week, he sees a 

 harmless piece of paper blown about the 

 pave ? And why does Arthur, our dog, 

 wail and howl when I play the " Moon- 

 light Sonata," though I play everything 

 else as badly, or worse ? Yet he comes to 

 lie on my feet when I open the piano. 

 And cats are as freakish as the weather. 

 And there 's our canary. He will not 

 bathe unless his tub is put into his cage 

 while it is hanging. Set it on the table, 

 and he refuses to wet his feet. 



The first snow is always an event even 

 in town. Winter has really come, and the 

 almanac is right. Even those who do not 

 regard the seasons or look at the sky have 

 this fact forced on them: that something 

 is under foot that was not there yesterday. 

 A company of gentlemen, passing as the 

 flakes began to fall, showed that they were 

 not wholly out of touch with nature. 



