"Don't make it a principle to like everything I do," said he, smiling.
"But I do like it, Basil; I like it better than the other side," said Diana. "I just love the trees and the rocks. And you can hear the birds sing. And the room is most beautiful."
Mr. Masters had opened the windows, and there came in a spicy breath from the woods, together with the wild warble of a wood-thrush. It was so wild and sweet, they both were still to listen. The notes almost broke Diana's heart, but she would not show that.
"What do you think that bird is saying?" she asked.
"I don't know what it may be to his mind; I know what it to mine.
Pray, what does it say to yours?"
"It is too plaintive for the bird to know what it means," said Diana.
"Probably. I have no doubt the ancients were right when they felt certain animals to be types of good and others of evil. I think it is true, in detail and variety. I have the same feeling. And in like manner, carrying out the principle, I hear one bird say one thing and another another, in their countless varieties of song."
"Did the ancients think that?"
"Don't you remember the distinction between clean beasts and unclean?"
"I thought that was ordered."