A ''WANDERING VOICE.'' 103 



der the maple had not moved for half an horn-, 

 and was undoubtedly some new device of man's, 

 made of wood perhaps, for he did not hesitate 

 on the door-step, but plunged in at once, and 

 devoted himself to the business in hand, clearing 

 out, while she vanished. 



But though I watched this domestic scene 

 with pleasure, and saw and noted every feather 

 that appeared about me, the tree-tops had my 

 closest attention, for there I was certain I 

 shoidd find my rare singer. Hours passed, the 

 shadows grew long, and sadly and slowly I took 

 my way homewards, wishing I had a charm 

 against fatigue, mosquitoes, and other terrors 

 of the night, and coidd stay out till he came. 



All through the month of June I haunted that 

 wood, seeking the unknown. Every evening I 

 heard him, but no sight came to gladden my 

 eyes. I grew almost to believe it merely "a 

 wandering voice," and I went home with my 

 longing unsatisfied. 



When next the month of roses came around, 

 I betook myself to a spur of the Hoosac Moun- 

 tains to see my birds. The evening of my 

 arrival, as the twilight gathered, rose the call of 

 my witching voice. 



"What bird is that?" I demanded, with the 

 usual result ; no one knew. (A chapter might 

 be written on the ignorance of country people of 



