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'tis the unmeaning toying of the younglings of the fields and forests; but where Sentiment and Fancy unite their sweets, where Taste and Delicacy refine, where Wit adds the flavour, and Good Sense gives strength and spirit to all, what a delicious draught is the hour of tender endearment! Beauty and Grace, in the arms of Truth and Honour, in all the luxury of mutual love.
But acres on acres full of such patriarchs contiguously rooted, their green tops billowing in the wind, their stalwart younglings pushing up about their knees: a whole forest, healthy and beautiful, giving colour to the light, giving perfume to the air: what is this but the most imposing piece in nature's repertory? Heine wished to lie like Merlin under the oaks of Broceliande.
Yet in some way that seemed almost mysterious enough to be uncanny, the mother bird got rid of the tidbit which she held in her bill. She probably decided to eat it herself rather than betray the whereabouts of her younglings. I have seen more than one parent bird do that. A few days later, in the same hollow, a Kentucky warbler was singing contentedly, showing no signs of uneasiness.
"My parents, of course, and family get-togethers every couple of years. We weren't really close; the family was too big for that. Uncle Martin and Aunt Gisele alone had ten kids." Tarlac shook his head, grinning. "What a mob!" "Kids?" It seemed Hovan's vocabulary had a blank spot; Tarlac tried again. "Children. Younglings." "Ten . . . younglings?"
They were business-like butchers, just of the type of man who make the dog-catchers in cities and they had no nerves and shot well. One of them took home a beautiful dead oriole, and the other took not one but two beautiful bluebirds, for as the male bluebird came back to the nest with food for the younglings, it so chanced that the female came also, and the same charge of shot killed them both.
Mourn for the younglings of the grouse; lament unceasingly, As, for the omelettes and the fowls browned in the pan, do I. How my heart yearneth for the fish that, in its different kinds, Upon a paste of wheaten flour, lay hidden in the pie!
All Ludgate Hill was now quiet, every house closed, but here and there lay torn shreds of garments, or household vessels. As he reached Fleet Street, however, there was a sound of horses' feet, and a body of men-at-arms with helmets glancing in the sun were seen. There was a cry, "There's one! That's one of the lewd younglings! At him!"
And what another poet says: Quoth th' Iman Abou Nuwas, past-master sure was he In every canon of debauch and jolly knavery, "O ye that love the downy cheeks of younglings, take your fill Of a delight, in Paradise that will not founden be."
He chews tobacco constantly, and untidily, for his gray beard and moustache are stained yellow. He is a widower, with fourteen living children, all married, and is the grandfather of thirty-one living grandchildren, and the great-grandfather of four younglings, all girls. It was like pulling teeth to extract such information. He is a queer old codger, of a low order of intelligence.
Of all the younglings of the wild, he was perhaps the most winsome, with his soft, whitish, shadowy-toned, close, woolly coat, his round, babyish head, his dark, gentle eyes wide with wonder at everything to be seen from the cave mouth. He lay usually very near the entrance, but partly hidden from view by a ragged horn of rock.
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