188 WINTER BIRDS ABOUT BOSTON. 



with real epicurean zest, mushrooms, the white 

 and tender flesh of which we have ourselves 

 looked at longingly, but have never dared to 

 taste. How amused he would be (I fear he 

 would even be rude enough to snicker) were 

 you to caution him against poison ! As if Sci- 

 urus Hudsonius did n't know what he were 

 about ! Why should men be so provincial as 

 to pronounce anything worthless merely because 

 they can do nothing with it ? The clover is not 

 without value, although the robin and the ori- 

 ole may agree to think so. We know better ; 

 and so do the rabbits and the bumblebees. The 

 wise respect their own quality wherever they 

 see it, and are thankful for a good hint from no 

 matter what quarter. Here is a worthy neigh- 

 bor of mine whom I hear every summer com- 

 plaining of the chicory plants which disfigure 

 the roadside in front of her windows. She 

 wishes they were exterminated, every one of 

 them. And they are homely, there is no deny- 

 ing it, for all the beauty of their individual 

 sky-blue flowers. No wonder a neat housewife 

 finds them an eyesore. But I never pass the 

 spot in August (I do not pass it at all after 

 that) without seeing that hers is only one side 

 of the story. My approach is sure to startle 

 a few goldfinches (and they too are most esti- 

 mable neighbors), to whom these scraggy herbs 



