The Rambles of an Idler 



of a gum tree falling slowly to the ground was 

 a relief. Was it the signal for a coming 

 change, I wondered? Whether that or not, 

 straightway I heard the sharp chirping of a 

 thrush. 



It was not the lively note of early summer, a 

 response to its mate or a warning cry to its 

 nestlings, but a fretful, labored attempt to give 

 utterance to disquieting thoughts. This chirp 

 at other times is the prelude to a song, but 

 would it prove so to-day? I listened long 

 enough to become thoroughly doubtful and im- 

 patient. The influence of August does not quite 

 subdue the "old Adam" that is in us. I could 

 have thrown a stone at that irritating thrnsh. 

 Even its chirp was but illy uttered more than 

 once, but then after a suggestive pause I heard 

 a few sweet notes. 



How quickly came a vision of June days! 

 Sunrise, when all the world was merry at the 

 thought of day ; sunset, when all the world was 

 glad to rest from the long hours of merriment 

 gone mad. A few sweet notes only, and I was 

 young again. Now would come once more the 



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