WAYS OF NATURE 
cherry time, unpleasantly. His life touches or min- 
gles with ours at many points —in the dooryard, 
in the garden, in the orchard, along the road, in 
the groves, in the woods. He is everywhere except 
in the depths of the primitive forests, and he is 
always very much at home. He does not hang tim- 
idly upon the skirts of our rural life, like, say, the 
thrasher or the chewink ; he plunges in boldly and 
takes his chances, and his share, and often more 
than his share, of whatever is going. What vigor, 
what cheer, how persistent, how prolific, how adap- 
tive; pugnacious, but cheery, pilfering, but com- 
panionable! 
When one first sees his ruddy breast upon the 
lawn in spring, or his pert form outlined against 
a patch of lingering snow in the brown fields, or 
hears his simple carol from the top of a leafless tree 
at sundown, what a vernal thrill it-gives one! What 
a train of pleasant associations is quickened into 
life! 
What pictures he makes upon the lawn! What 
attitudes he strikes! See him seize a worm and yank 
it from its burrow! 
I recently observed a robin boring for grubs in a 
country dooryard. It is a common enough sight to 
witness one seize an angle-worm and drag it from 
its burrow in the turf, but I am not sure that I ever 
before saw one drill for grubs and bring the big 
white morsel to the surface. The robin I am speak- 
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