Outing . ool, under thevery robbers stronghold—knew, and hetold me, what time an October galeflung him exhausted at midnight on mywindow sill some hundreds of milessouth of the ravens home. I took himin, and, as he sat on the hearth rug—hisjet form, a smeared patch on the redstuff, turned to ruby and all manner ofshot colors beneath the blaze—alter-nately sipping whisky and milk from a spoon and stretching his chilled wingsto the blaze, while I dozed in the arm-chair, lulled by the howling storm, hetold the tale to me as the price of hislife. At least, I like to think he did—and yet— and yet—!
Outing . ool, under thevery robbers stronghold—knew, and hetold me, what time an October galeflung him exhausted at midnight on mywindow sill some hundreds of milessouth of the ravens home. I took himin, and, as he sat on the hearth rug—hisjet form, a smeared patch on the redstuff, turned to ruby and all manner ofshot colors beneath the blaze—alter-nately sipping whisky and milk from a spoon and stretching his chilled wingsto the blaze, while I dozed in the arm-chair, lulled by the howling storm, hetold the tale to me as the price of hislife. At least, I like to think he did—and yet— and yet—! What would you? The hot room,the cold night, the storm without, thehour, the stillness above the storm—per-haps I dozed and it was a dream afterall. Who knows? The ring ouzeldoes, but he is thousands of miles awaynow in tropical Africa, or wherever it isring ouzels are pleased to winter. Andprobably I shall never see him he will never be able to prove thetruth of what I have SAW FIVE GREAT BLACK RAVENS BEATING OVER THE SUBLIME,GRIM, BLUNT SHOULDERS OF THE HILLS. THE SCARLET TANAGER MY earliest recollection of thescarlet tanager dates back toboyhood, to the woods not farfrom the place where Uncle Tom hadhis adventure with the wolves—an old,familiar story in the school readers twen-ty-five or thirty years ago. These woodsthat I speak of bordered Green River,and through their dense tangles the tan-agers darted back and forth as if, asThoreau says, they would ignite theleaves. It seemed then that these mightywoods could never be swept away. Andwhat beauty was theirs! Beauty ofsong, of flower! Hundreds of tanagerswhere there is one now! Acres of bril-liant cardinal flowers where now theearth is given to meaner weeds. The tanager, because of his splendidplumage, is, like the cardinal, a prizefor thoughtless and cruel hands. Butfortunately for him he dwells in themost secluded places. True, now andagain he comes near some quiet homeand flutes his robi
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade, booksubjectsports, booksubjecttravel
