, and we
had not heard his voice.

The last Sunday of my stay came, all too soon. It was a glorious day,
and, as usual, the two bird-lovers turned their steps toward the woods.
Everything seemed at rest and silent. We paused a while in a part of the
forest in which we had seen some strange phases of bird life, and had
christened the "Bewitched Corner." A gentle breeze set all the leaves to
fluttering; far off a woodpecker drummed his salute to his fellows;
beyond the trees we could hear the indigo bird singing; but nothing
about us was stirring. The wood-pewee was unheard, and even the vireo
seemed to have finished his endless song and gone his way.

We passed on a few rods to a favorite resting place of our daily rounds,
where my comrade always liked to stretch herself upon the big bole of a
fallen tree in the broad sunshine, and I to seat myself at the foot of
another tree in the shade. It was a spot

"where hours went their way
As softly as sweet dreams go down the night."

As we approached this place a sound reached us that struck us dumb; it
was a hermit thrush not far off. Silently we stole up the gentle hill
and seated ourselves.

"At last! at last!" I cried in my heart, as I leaned back against my
tree to listen.

Then the glorious anthem began again; it rose and swelled upon the air;
it filled the woods,--

"And up by mystical chords of song
The soul was lifted from care and pain."

Though not in sight, the bird was quite near, so that we heard every
note, so enchanting! so inimitable! For ten or fifteen minutes he poured
out the melody, while our hearts fairly stood still. Then he stopped,
and we heard the thrush "chuck" and the hermit call, which is different
from other thrushes, being something between a squawk and a mew. Whether
this were his conversation with his mate we could only guess, for we
dared not move, hardly indeed to breathe.

After a pause the bird began again, and for one perfect hour we sat
there motionless, entranced, and took our fill of his matchless
rhapsody. I longed inexpressibly to see the enchanter, though I dared
not stir for fear of startling him. Perhaps my urgent desire drew him;
at any rate he came at last within sight, stood a few minutes on the low
branch of a tree and looked at me, lifting and dropping his expressive
tail as he did so. Two or three low, rich notes bubbled out, as if he
had half a mind to sing to me; but he thought better of i