APRIL DAYS 79 
a suggestion of insect sounds in sultry summer : 
by and by we shall sometimes hear that same 
delicate rhythm burst the silence of the June 
midnights, and then, ceasing, make stillness 
more still. Now watch that woodpecker, roving 
in ceaseless search, travelling over fifty trees in 
an hour, running from top to bottom of some 
small sycamore, pecking at every crevice, paus- 
ing to dot a dozen inexplicable holes in a row 
upon an apple-tree, but never once intermitting 
the low, querulous murmur of housekeeping 
anxiety. Sometimes she stops to hammer with 
all her little life at some tough piece of bark, 
strikes harder and harder blows, throws herself 
back at last, flapping her wings furiously as she 
brings down her whole strength again upon it ; 
finally it yields, and grub after grub goes down 
her throat, till she whets’ her beak after the 
meal as a wild beast licks its claws, and is off 
on her pressing business once more. 
It is no wonder that there is so little sub- 
stantial enjoyment of nature in the commun- 
ity, when we feed children on grammars and 
dictionaries only, and take no pains to train 
them to see that which is before their eyes. 
The mass of the community have ‘‘summered 
and wintered” the universe pretty regularly, 
one would think, for a good many years ; and 
yet nine persons out of ten in the town or 
