and raiment He has given you, double and threefold. More than this, He preserved your kind in the Ark, so that your race might not come to an end. Still more do you owe Him for the element of air, which He has made your portion. Over and above, you sow not, neither do you reap; but God feeds you, and gives you streams and springs for your thirst; the mountains He gives you, and the valleys for your refuge, and the tall trees wherein to build your nests. And because you cannot sew or spin, God takes thought to clothe you, you and your little ones. It must be, then, that your Creator loves you much, since He has granted you so many benefits. Be on your guard then against the sin of ingratitude, and strive always to give God praise."
And when the Saint ceased speaking, the birds made such signs as they might, by spreading their wings and opening their beaks, to show their love and pleasure; and when he had blessed them with the sign of the cross, they sprang up, and singing songs of unspeakable sweetness, away they streamed in a great cross to the four quarters of heaven.
THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS 9
Up soared the lark into the air,
A shaft of song, a winged prayer,
As if a soul, released from pain,
Were flying back to heaven again.
St. Francis heard; it was to him
An emblem of the Seraphim;
The upward motion of the fire,
The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
Around Assisi's convent gate
The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
From moor and mere and darksome wood,
Came flocking for their dole of food.
"O brother birds," St. Francis said,
"Ye come to me and ask for bread,
But not with bread alone to-day
Shall ye be fed and sent away.
"Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds,
With manna of celestial words;
Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
"Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise
The great creator in your lays;
He giveth you your plumes of down,
Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
"He giveth you your wings to fly
And breathe a purer air on high,
And careth for you everywhere
Who for yourselves so little care."
With flutter of swift wings and songs
Together rose the feathered throngs
And, singing, scattered far apart;
Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
He knew not if the brotherhood
His homily had understood;
He only knew that to one ear
The meaning of his words was clear.
Expression: Talk with your teacher about the life, work, and influence of St. Francis. Refer to cyclopedias for information. Read aloud the prose version of his sermon to the birds; the poetical version. Compare the two versions. What is said in one that is not said in the other?
IN THE WOODS 10
Years ago, when quite a youth, I was rambling in the woods one day with my brothers, gathering black birch and wintergreens.
As we lay upon the ground, gazing vaguely up into the trees, I caught sight of a bird, the like of which I had never before seen or heard of. It was the blue yellow-backed warbler, which I have found since; but to my young fancy it seemed like some fairy bird, so curiously marked was it, and so new and unexpected. I saw it a moment as the flickering leaves parted, noted the white spot on its wing, and it was gone.
It was a revelation. It was the first intimation I had had that the woods we knew so well held birds that we knew not at all. Were our eyes and ears so dull? Did we pass by the beautiful things in nature without seeing them? Had we been blind then? There were the robin, the bluejay, the yellowbird, and others familiar to every one; but who ever dreamed that there were still others that not even the hunters saw, and whose names few had ever heard?
The surprise that awaits every close observer of birds, the thrill of delight that accompanies it, and the feeling of fresh eager inquiry that follows can hardly be awakened by any other pursuit.
There is a fascination about it quite overpowering.
It fits so well with other things – with fishing, hunting, farming, walking, camping out – with all that takes one to the fields and the woods. One may go blackberrying and make some rare discovery; or, while driving his cow to pasture, hear a new song, or make a new observation. Secrets lurk on all sides. There is news in every bush. Expectation is ever on tiptoe. What no man ever saw may the next moment be revealed to you.
What a new interest this gives to the woods! How you long to explore every nook and corner of them! One must taste it to understand. The looker-on sees nothing to make such a fuss about. Only a little glimpse of feathers and a half-musical note or two – why all this ado? It is not the mere knowledge of birds that you get, but a new interest in the fields and woods, the air, the sunshine, the healing fragrance and coolness, and the getting away from the worry of life.
Yesterday was an October day of rare brightness and warmth. I spent the most of it in a wild, wooded gorge of Rock Creek. A tree which stood upon the bank had dropped some of its fruit in the water. As I stood there, half-leg deep, a wood duck came flying down the creek.
Presently it returned, flying up; then it came back again, and sweeping low around a bend, prepared to alight in a still, dark reach in the creek which was hidden from my view. As I passed that way about half an hour afterward, the duck started up, uttering its wild alarm note. In the stillness I could hear the whistle of its wings and the splash of the water when it took flight. Near by I saw where a raccoon had come down to the water for fresh clams, leaving its long, sharp track in the mud and sand. Before I had passed this hidden stretch of water, a pair of strange thrushes flew up from the ground and perched on a low branch.
Who can tell how much this duck, this footprint on the sand, and these strange thrushes from the far North enhanced the interest and charm of the autumn woods?
Birds cannot be learned satisfactorily from books. The satisfaction is in learning them from nature. One must have an original experience with the birds. The books are only the guide, the invitation. But let me say in the same breath that the books can by no manner of means be dispensed with.
In the beginning one finds it very difficult to identify a bird in any verbal description. First find your bird; observe its ways, its song, its calls, its flight, its haunts. Then compare with your book. In this way the feathered kingdom may soon be conquered.
Expression: This and the selection which follows are fine examples of descriptive writing. Read them so that your hearers will understand every statement clearly and without special effort on their part. Talk about the various objects that are mentioned, and tell what you have learned about them from other sources.
BEES AND FLOWERS 11
By Henry W. Longfellow.
By John Burroughs, an American writer on nature (1837- ).
From "The Fairy Land of Nature," by Arabella B. Buckley.
