42 In Apathetic August 



Some malign spirit long ago undermined our 

 faith in the merits of the month, and no one 

 has had energy since to rebuild it. 



The resolution to be up and doing is 

 very brilliant when a suggestion to others, 

 but how dull it becomes when a personal 

 application ! It borders on the heroic to 

 take up a burden in August, and I was no 

 further than thinking of the matter when 

 a quail whistled at my side. That clear, 

 ringing, fife-like " Bob-white" proved the 

 bell-call that rang up the curtain of my 

 eyes. After all, it was I that had been 

 asleep, and not Mother Earth taking an 

 August nap. 



That little sparrow has a new song now. 

 Every note comes bounding over the weedy 

 grass, light-footed as an April sunbeam. The 

 bird has quickened its pace, and marks my 

 progress now with an eager eye. There is 

 no indifference as to how the world may 

 wag, and I, too, am prodded to a livelier in- 

 terest. "Bob-white!" rings again through 

 the clear air, and I am thrilled by its ear- 

 nestness. Then come the rustling of many 

 wings and sound of many voices, a flock 

 of red-winged blackbirds passes overhead. 



