It Was A "Humble Note" Which Pleased
Me In The Days Of Long Ago When I Was Young And Very Ignorant,
And As It Pleases Me Still It May Be Supposed That Mentally I
Have Not Progressed With The Years.
Nevertheless, I am not
incapable of appreciating the greater music; all that is said
in its praise, even to the extremest expressions of admiration
of those who are moved to a sense of wonder by it, find an
echo in me.
But it is not only a delight to me to listen to
the lark singing at heaven's gate and to the vesper
nightingale in the oak copse - the singer of a golden throat
and wondrous artistry; I also love the smaller vocalists - the
modest shufewing and the lesser whitethroat and the
yellowhammer with his simple chant. These are very dear to
me: their strains do not strike me as trivial; they have a
lesser distinction of their own and I would not miss them from
the choir. The literary man will smile at this and say that
my paper is naught but an idle exercise, but I fancy I shall
sleep the better tonight for having discharged this ancient
debt which has been long on my conscience.
Chapter Twenty-Five: My Friend Jack
My friend rack is a retriever - very black, very curly, perfect
in shape, but just a retriever; and he is really not my
friend, only he thinks he is, which comes to the same thing.
So convinced is he that I am his guide, protector, and true
master, that if I were to give him a downright scolding or
even a thrashing he would think it was all right and go on
just the same.
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