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Page 21
The days up here were beautiful, but it was at night that this was a
scene of surpassing loveliness. Far below the lights of the city
glowed like spangles in the darkness. Above us was the star-encrusted
sky. It was like being suspended between a floor and a ceiling of
glittering jewels.
On this plateau grew the biggest cherry trees I ever saw, and they bore
the biggest and sweetest cherries, though I could not taste any at that
time, as the season was past. I heard the landlady complaining one day
to some of her guests that the rascally birds had hardly left her a
cherry to put up.
"The saucy little thieves! they must have eaten bushels of the finest
fruit," she said.
"And didn't you get any?" inquired a childish voice. There was
something familiar in the voice and I flew to the porch railing to see
who it was. And who should it be but dear little Marion. And there
too was her aunty, Miss Dorothy, and the professor, and in the parlor I
caught a glimpse of Miss Katie and the colonel. They were having a
pleasant vacation together.
Marion looked inquiringly into the landlady's face. No doubt she was
thinking the mountain birds were very greedy to eat up all the cherries
and not leave one for the poor woman to can.
"Our birds always eat some of our cherries too," she said, "but they
always leave us plenty."
"There were bushels left on our trees," observed the landlady's
daughter. "We had all we wanted, mother. We couldn't possibly have
used the rest if the birds had not eaten them. We had a cellar full of
canned cherries left over from the year before, you remember, and that
is the way it is nearly every year."
"Yes, yes, I know," answered her mother impatiently; "but for all that
I don't believe in letting the birds have everything."
"I never begrudge a bird what it eats," commented the professor. "Of
course you can discourage the birds, drive them off, break up their
nests, starve them out, and have a crop of caterpillars instead of
cherries. But, beg pardon, madam, maybe you don't object to
caterpillars," and he bowed low to the landlady.
The laugh was against her and I was glad of it, for I didn't consider
it either kind or polite to call us "saucy little thieves."
We were amused one morning when, flying over a piece of pretty country,
we saw a lady moving rapidly along on the red sandy path below. She
seemed to be neither exactly riding nor walking, as she was not on foot
nor had she a horse. On closer inspection it was seen that she was
propelling a strange-looking vehicle. Two of her carriage wheels were
gone, and between the remaining two the lady was perched. At sight of
it I was immediately reminded of the queer thing that Johnny Morris
rode which the admiral had described to us and called a "wheel." I
felt sure that this was the same kind of a machine. The lady looked
neither to the right nor to the left, but her glance was fixed intently
on the road before her.
Farther along another lady leaned against the fence awaiting her
approach. As she bowled along the friend asked enthusiastically: "Is
it not splendid?"
The rider called back to her: "It is grand! It is almost as if I were
flying. I know now how a bird feels."
Think of comparing the sensation produced by moving that heavy iron
machine, with the rider but three feet from the ground, to the
exhilaration felt by a bird spurning the earth and soaring on delicate
wing through the fields of heaven! It was truly laughable!
Our amusement was cut short, however, when we noticed that the lady's
hat was decorated with a dead dove.
"Can we never get away from this millinery exhibition of death?" I
exclaimed in horror.
"No," said my mother sorrowfully. "The god, Fashion, I told you of has
his slaves all over the land. We will find them wherever we go, north,
south, east, and west. No town is too small, no neighborhood too
remote, but there will be found women ready to carry out his cruel
laws."
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