Marsh Symphony 



I V* THERE ARE, OF COURSE, GREAT 



physical differences between a marsh and other natural fea- 

 tures such as seashores and mountains. There is also a de- 

 cided contrast in what might be called the tempo and the 

 appeal of the areas. I had often thought of it, but, strangely 

 enough, it was not until a morning in August, when I wit- 

 nessed the episode of the venturesome house dog, that I 

 concerned myself seriously with the matter. 



The dog was a Boston bull, a member of the family of one 

 of the professors, with all the pamperings and privileges 

 connected therewith. It possessed the rather irritable com- 

 bination of cocksureness, faith in the goodness of human na- 

 ture, and the faculty of taking everything for granted, that 

 invariably marks the well-treated and young city dog. It 

 came to the marsh with its master and looked over the place 

 while the professor talked with the manager. It sniffed and 

 approved the various posts, walked around the canoes, ig- 

 nored the two country-wise spaniels of the manager, and 

 then turned its attention to the float. 



Apparently the dog had been accustomed only to clear 

 and weedless conditions, and its experience had not included 



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