Part 21 (1/2)

A hurried cry from overhead may unexpectedly reveal the presence of a pair of loons in another ele to watch their steady, strained, energetic flight above the tops of the pines, generally to curve down to soirt lake For the water is the loon's natural eleraceful, silent dive He does not rebe, butunder the surface in a graceful arch

Settling down and swi with only head and neck exposed is an evidence of suspicion, and is generally followed by a long dive, with a belated reappearance in some remote part of the lake

When theout for a swi is announced by prolonged and unusual repetitions of the laughing call For half an hour the echoes of the lake are kept alive with sounds portentous of new departures in the loon world Then a peculiar object is seen to ee from the marshy bay and cross under the shadowy cedars toward the open water A field-glass shows it to be the , the three huddled so closely together that they are al in her care and attention She strokes the backs of the young birds with her bill, playing and fussing around and close to them, as if they could not exist without her constant attention Now and then she leans over and lifts a broad, black, webbed foot out of the water, holding it up distended, as if to endorse theto swi to her, as if afraid of being lost in the great expanse of water to which they have been so recently introduced

A short distance away the father swialing hi fish A boat couide, with an angler, picturesquely protected byin the stern

The es her indolent pair in the direction of safety Ho they es them! The trio moves at a snail's pace co ones show no inclination to dive out of har tendency serves but to incommode and obstruct her

And where is the male protector? Alas for the romance of chivalry! When the boat comes near, he deliberately dives, and, after the usual protracted wait, reappears in another part of the lake, away froer that alarms and threatens the defenceless trio But the s to speed They do h slowly, toward the ed with so hter The indifference of the fisheruide does not reassure thele till lost to sight in the winding lagoon

S T Wood

TO THE CUCKOO

O blithe New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice?

While I arass Thy twofold shout I hear; From hill to hill it see only to the Vale, Of sunshi+ne and of flowers, Thou bringest untoof the Spring!

Even yet thou art to , A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky

To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen

And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden tiain appears to be An unsubstantial faery place, That is fit home for Thee!

Wordsworth

ON THE GRassHOPPER AND CRICKET

The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run Froe about the nen mead; That is the Grasshopper's--he takes the lead In suhts; for when tired out with fun

He rests at ease beneath so never: On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, fro, in war ever, And see sorassy hills