he
breeze, gathered about my head in swarms. A winter wren at my elbow
struck up to sing, going over and over with his exquisite tune; and a
scarlet tanager, also, not far off, did what he could--which was
somewhat less than the wren's--to relieve the tedium of my situation.
Finally, when my patience was well-nigh exhausted,--for the afternoon
was wearing away and I had some distance to walk,--a swift flew past me
from behind, and, with none of that poising over the entrance such as is
commonly seen when a swift goes down a chimney, went straight into the
trunk. In half a minute or less he reappeared without a sound, and was
out of sight in a second. Then I picked up my rubber coat, and with a
blessing on the wren and the tanager, and a malediction on the
mosquitoes (so unjust does self-interest make us), started homeward.

Conservatives and radicals! Even the swifts, it seems, are divided into
these two classes. "Hollow trees were good enough for our fathers; who
are we that we should assume to know more than all the generations
before us? To change is not of necessity to make progress. Let those who
will, take up with smoky chimneys; for our part we prefer the old way."

Thus far the conservatives; but now comes the party of modern ideas.
"All that is very well," say they. "Our ancestors were worthy folk
enough; they did the best they could in their time. But the world moves,
and wise birds will move with it. Why should we make a fetish out of
some dead forefather's example? _We_ are alive now. To refuse to take
advantage of increased light and improved conditions may look like
filial piety in the eyes of some: to us such conduct appears nothing
better than a distrust of the Divine Providence, a subtle form of
atheism. What are chimneys for, pray? And as for soot and smoke, we were
made to live in them. Otherwise, let some of our opponents be kind
enough to explain why we were created with black feathers."

So, in brief, the discussion runs; with the usual result, no doubt, that
each side convinces itself.

We may assume, however, that these old-school and new-school swifts do
not carry their disagreement so far as actually to refuse to hold
fellowship with one another. Conscience is but imperfectly developed in
birds, as yet, and they can hardly feel each other's sins and errors of
belief (if indeed these things be two, and not one) quite so keenly as
men are accustomed to do.

After all, it is something to be g