ONE TOUCH OF NATURE 



C- — I ( — ^HE cheery whistle of 

 a quail recalls to most 

 New England people 

 a vision of breezy up- 

 land pastures, with a 

 mottled brown bird 

 calling melodiously 

 from the topmost 

 slanting rail of the old 

 sheep-fence. Farmers 

 say he foretells the 

 ■ weather, calling, More- 



wet ; Tfiuch-more-wet ! Boys say he only pro- 

 claims his name. Bob White ! I 'm Bob 

 White ! But whether he prognosticates or 

 introduces himself, his voice is always a 

 welcome one. Those who know the call 

 listen with pleasure, and speedily come to 

 love the bird that makes it. 



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