THE VEERY MOTHER. 



My next interview with the veery family took 

 place the following June, at the foot of Mount 

 Grey lock, in Massachusetts. I had just returned 

 from a walk down the meadow, put on wrapjDer 

 and slippers, and established myself by the win- 

 dow to write some letters. Pen, ink, paper, 

 and all the accessories were spread out before 

 me. I dipped my pen in the ink and wrote 

 "My Dear," when a sound fell upon my ears: 

 it was the cry of a young bird ! it was new to 

 me ! it had a veery ring I 



Away went my good resolutions, and my j)en 

 with them ; papers flew to right and left ; hither 

 and thither scattered the letters I had meant to 

 answer. I snatched my glass, seized my hat as 

 I passed, and was outdoors. In the open air 

 the call sounded louder, and plainly came from 

 the borders of the brook that with its fringe of 

 trees divides the yard from the pasture beyond. 

 It was a two -syllabled utterance like "quee wee," 

 but it had the intermitted or tremolo sound that 

 distinguishes the song of the tawny thrush from 



