My Neighbor's Wood-Shed 211 



well as leads them to mild sinning of a 

 harmless kind. A little lying and a good 

 dinner has got more than one gentle dame 

 into the coterie " Colonial." 



But the shed was not given over wholly to 

 wood, a few people, and many bugs. What 

 would scarcely be expe&ed, it was the favor- 

 ite hunting-ground of many a hungry bird. 

 I mentioned this one morning, and my au- 

 dience, a stupid lout, remarked at once, 

 " Chickens, you mean," and then laughed, 

 as if he or I had said something funny. I 

 did not offer to explain to him, but won- 

 dered, in silence, if it could be true that this 

 man of some sixty years had never seen the 

 winter wren that occasionally came darting 

 through a knot-hole and chirped merrily as 

 it hunted for insefts in the shed's innumer- 

 able nooks and crannies. If true, then better 

 be a winter wren than such a stolid speci- 

 men of humanity. Perhaps it is better to 

 look only upon the bright side of the shield, 

 but there is a dull side, nevertheless, although 

 we may never see it. There are and always 

 have been men in this old neighborhood 

 who, while within the pale of sanity, are 

 scarcely more intellectual than the horses 



