It called to my mind that place in McGuffey's Fifth where it says: "Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year." Of course, I never heard a turkey buzzard sing.

Laddie said they couldn't; but that didn't prove it.

He said half the members of our church couldn't sing, but they DID; and when all of them were going at the tops of their voices, it was just grand.

So maybe the turkey buzzard could sing if it wanted to; seemed as if it should, if Isaac Thomas could; and anyway, it was the next verse I was thinking most about: "Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee! We'd make with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the spring." That was so exciting I thought I'd just try it, so I stood on the top rail, spread my arms, waved them, and started.

I was bumped in fifty places when I rolled into the cowslip bed at the foot of the steep hill, for stones stuck out all over the side of it, and I felt pretty mean as I climbed back to the pulpit.
The only consolation I had was what Dr.Fenner had said.