60 NEW HAMPSHIRE 



tain to come now and then upon a brook. I am 

 on the edge of one now, and as the sun at this 

 moment shines out between two clouds I stand 

 still to enjoy the warmth while it lasts, and at the 

 same time to hear the singing of the water. Good 

 music, I call it, and fear no contradiction. It has 

 the quality of some of the best verse — liquidity. 

 It is broken unevenly into syllables, yet it is true 

 to the beat, and it flows. In short, it is smooth, 

 yet not too smooth — with the smoothness of 

 water, not of oil. It speaks to every boulder as 

 it passes. I wish my, ear were more at home in 

 the language. 



There is seldom a minute when, if I pause to 

 listen, I cannot hear from one direction or an- 

 other the quaint, homely, twangy, countryfied, 

 yet to me always agreeable voice of Canadian 

 nuthatches. At frequent intervals one or two 

 come near enough so that I see them creeping 

 about over the trees, bodies bent, heads down, 

 always in search of a mouthful, yet keeping up, 

 every one, his share of the universal chorus. As 

 well as I can judge, all the evergreen forests of 

 this Northern country are now alive with these 

 pretty creatures ; for they really are pretty. In 

 fact, there are few forest birds for whom I cher- 

 ish a kindlier feeling. It is too bad they do not 

 summer in our Massachusetts woods, though pos- 



