14 An April Day Dream 



the birds called, and I looked away. A 

 thrush was busy with last winter's leaves, 

 and chirped excitedly when it found me at 

 the old oak's mossy foot. It scolded, I 

 think, protesting that I was trespassing in 

 bird-land ; and well it might, for have we 

 not relinquished all our rights by years of per- 

 secution that must forever be a disgrace ? 

 How I wished that this early thrush would 

 sing ! But I knew that it was a passing vis- 

 itor, and not in tune. Its melody was re- 

 served for some far New England wood, and 

 I was content to recall the summer thrushes 

 I have known. Waving a violet wand to 

 bring back other days, I saw again the rudely 

 paved path leading to the old spring-house, 

 and heard again the gurgling water as it hur- 

 ried through the long troughs wherein were 

 placed the rows of milk-pans. Passing them, 

 the water took up a livelier strain, and sang 

 a sweet, sibilant song as it greeted the sun- 

 shine. Sparkling water is to be found every- 

 where, "laughing water," as the Indians 

 called it; rippling currents smile in every 

 brook ; hurried waters rush over every ob- 

 strufting rock ; but nowhere since those 

 early days have I seen a more merry flow 



