THE SONG AT LAST. 267 



" 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 in- 

 deed 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 en- 

 chanter, though I dared not stir for fear of start- 

 ling 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 it and dived off the 

 branch into the bushes. We rose to go. 



"This only was lacking," I said. "This 

 crowns my summer. I ask no more, and to- 

 morrow I go." 



