2 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
for the eye and ear; but so far as I was con¬ 
cerned if might as well have been a desert. 
There are thousands yet in the state I was 
in. I meet them every day; I number them 
among mv friends. We Americans are the 
greatest sinners, perhaps, among civilized peo¬ 
ples in this deafness and blindness to Nature. 
We have been too busy breaking the virgin 
soil, felling forests, and building new towns 
to spend any time in search of the finer 
things of life. All this has been necessary in 
order to convert our continent from a track¬ 
less wilderness into a great republic. It is a 
stage that every nation has had to pass 
through. But I. for one, am glad to see signs 
that this apprenticeship to materialism is 
drawing to a close, that this fever of acquisi¬ 
tion is beginning to cool somewhat. In Ger- 
many or England, a hundred, perhaps a thou¬ 
sand, people go to the fields and the woods, 
with minds and hearts, eyes and ears, open to 
the beauties of nature where one American 
goes. 
Let us hope that this will not be so much 
longer. Signs of a change are already at 
hand. And although “Nature Study” may 
now be a bit of a fad with some, and the 
next few years will show some backsliders, 
yet the movement from the city to the coun¬ 
try, from the desk to the dell, is one that 
will not be checked. 
The flowers go with the birds. You find 
them in the same places. Your “Handbook 
of Birds” will soon be supplemented by a 
“Flora.” Your field glass will swing from 
one shoulder, and your collecting case from 
the other. Again, if you become a thorough 
convert, you will not long be content with 
your own scanty gleanings in the out-door 
world—although, remember, these will always 
be the most valuable to you. You will want 
to supplement them with the gleanings of 
others. That is to say, you will want to take 
a bird or flower magazine; you will buy bird 
and flower books. 
Above all, don’t let any Phillistine persuade 
you that you are wasting your time or money. 
Don’t be discouraged because the majority of 
your friends do not go to the woods with 
you. Be true to your own instincts. A man, 
lying under a tree, one whole, long summer 
afternoon, may be doing more for humanity’s 
truest interests than counties hordes sweat¬ 
ing in the treadmills of toil. Buv vour mag¬ 
azines and books, even if you have to do with¬ 
out something else. It is high time that the 
youth of the land were disabused of the an¬ 
cient fallacy that their first and greatest duty 
is to save money. The more money you spend, 
provided you spend it well, the better off you 
are. 
Finally, when you have learned to love the 
birds, join the Audubon Society. Become a 
member of that devoted little army which, 
three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, 
is fighting for the preservation of the birds. 
* 
It will cost you just as much or as little as 
you can afford to pay. Only, remember, the 
more you make it cost you the more you get 
out of it. like everything else in life. 
—Elmore Elliot Peake, Salem. Ill. 
Notes on the Birds of the Bahamas. 
One day not many weeks ago the wind blew 
cold from the west. In Florida the tempera¬ 
ture fell to the twenties, and the oranges and 
grape-fruit were frozen on the trees; here, 
however, it was not so cold. We who had 
come from the north' a few days before did not 
find a temperature of 55 degrees uncomfor¬ 
table; but the residents, accustomed to sun¬ 
ny skies and summer heat the year through, 
found the weather very cold, and they shiv¬ 
ered in their very heaviest clothes and kept 
indoors as much as possible. 
In the afternoon I went shopping, to buy a 
monkey—not a gibbering little beast but 
a Jamaica monkey made of fire-clay, a water- 
jar which keeps the water which it contains 
cool by the evaporation of moisture from the 
porous surface. In one of the shops (I vis¬ 
ited many before I found my monkey), I was 
surprised to see a bird flitting about. The 
little fellow had come in at the open door to 
find protection from the piercing wind, and 
was flying about alarmed by the unexpected 
sights indoors and too frightened to find his 
way out again. I followed him through' the 
shop, over piles of tin buckets and nail-kegs, 
and caught him in my hand as he fluttered 
against a window pane. 
I carried him to the door-way to examine 
him. What an exquisite little creature he 
was; so minute, so wonderfully formed, so 
delicate! He was a warbler, and bore the 
familv garb of olive-green above and vellow 
beneath; and on the crown of his bead was 
