in 



A BIRD MEDLEY 



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■^ LJEOPLE who have not made friends with the 



-*- hirds do not know how much they miss. Es- 

 pecially to one living in the country, of strong local 

 attachments and an observing turn of mind, does 

 an acquamtance with the birds form a close and 

 invaluable tie./ The only time I saw Thomas Car- 

 lyle, I remember his relating, apropos of this sub- 

 ject, that in his earlier days he was sent on a jour- 

 ney to a distant town on some business that gave 

 him much bother and vexation, and that on his way 

 back home, forlorn and dejected, he suddenly heard 

 the larks singing all about him, — soaring and sing- 

 ing, just as they did about his father's fields, and 

 it had the effect to comfort him and cheer him up 

 amazingly. 



Most lovers of the birds can doubtless recall simi- 

 lar experiences from their own lives. Nothing wonts 

 me to a new place more than the birds. I go, for 

 instance, to take up my abode in the country, — to 

 plant myself upon unfamiliar ground. I know no- 

 body, and nobody knows me. The roads, the fields, 

 the hills, the streams, the woods, are all strange. 

 I look wistfully upon them, but they know me not. 



