My Neighbor's Wood-Shed 221 



beautiful in our eyes, but the old tunes re- 

 main, and there can never cling to more 

 recent and elaborate compositions that qual- 

 ity of endearment which is the firmly fixed 

 feature of the old tunes I have mentioned. 

 They whispered to us the secret of music's 

 charm, and we shall never forget the thrill 

 of their confidences. Combine those same 

 sweet sounds as you will, and bring with 

 them the choicest of a poet's thoughts, it 

 will not appeal to us like the cruder sweet- 

 ness that fell upon the untutored- ears of 

 boyhood. 



There was no lack of bird-music this 

 morning. A warm sun after a snow-storm 

 always brings the minstrels to the front, and 

 they practise, if not elaborately perform, at 

 such a time. It is a strange impression, that 

 has been crystallized by print, that birds do 

 not sing except at nesting-time. As well 

 say they do not eat. I defy any one to in- 

 dicate a note missing from a robin's song 

 that I heard yesterday. It was snowing at 

 the time, but not even this disturbed the 

 bird. Its throat was full of sound that 

 trickled out with as much sweetness on the 

 bare twigs as though the air was heavy with 



