c bird-lover, and myself.

The road was all the way through the woods, then lovely with the glow of
the western sun, which reached far under the branches, gilded the trunks
of the trees, and made a fresh picture at every turn. At the further
side of the woods was a grass-covered hill which we ascended, eager to
treat our eyes to the sunset, and our ears to the hermit songs. The sun
went down serenely, without a cloud to reflect his glory, but the whole
pleasant country at our feet was illuminated by his parting rays.

And hark! a hermit began "air-o-ee!" Instantly everything else was
forgotten, although the bird was far away.

"He will come nearer," whispered my comrade, and we waited in silence.
Several singers were within hearing, but all at a tantalizing remoteness
that allowed us to hear the louder notes, and constantly to realize what
we were losing.

We lingered, loath to abandon hope, till the deepening shadows reminded
us of the woods to be passed through; but no bird came nearer than that
maddening distance. In despair we turned our faces homeward at last;
several times on the way we paused, lured by an ecstatic note, but
every one too far off to be completely heard.

In our quiet walk back through the dark woods I accepted my evident
fate, that I was not to be blessed with hermit music this season; but I
made a private resolve to find next year a "hermit neighborhood," where
birds should be warranted to sing, if I had to take a tent and camp out
in a swamp.

June passed away in delightful bird-study, and July followed quickly.
Nests and songs in plenty rewarded our search. Every day had been full.
Nothing had been wanting to fill our cup of content, except the
longed-for song of the hermit; and I had been so absorbed I had almost
ceased to regret it.

With the last days of July everything was changed about us. The world
was full of bird babies. Infant voices rang out from every tangle;
flutters of baby wings stirred every bush; the woods echoed to anxious
"pips," and "smacks," and "quits," of uneasy parents working for dear
life. We had been so occupied with our study of these charming
youngsters, that we bethought ourselves, only as one after another
strange warbler appeared upon the scene, that migrating time had
arrived, the wonderful procession to the summer-land had begun.

This, alas! I could not stay to see. And if one must go, it were better
to take leave before getting entangled in the toils