SCRAPING ACQUAINTANCE. 137 



small olive-brown bird, with an orange crown 

 and a speckled breast. Then I knew him for 

 the golden-crowned thrush ; but it was not for 

 some time after this that I heard his famous 

 evening song, and it was longer still before I 

 found his curious roofed nest. 



" Happy those early days," those days of 

 childish innocence, — though I was a man 

 grown, — when every bird seemed newly cre- 

 ated, and even the redstart and the wood wag- 

 tail were like rarities from the ends of the 

 earth. Verily, my case was like unto Adam's, 

 when every fowl of the air was brought before 

 him for a name. 



One evening, on my way back to the city 

 after an afternoon ramble, I stopped just at 

 dusk in a grove of hemlocks, and soon out of 

 the tree-top overhead came a song, — a brief 

 strain of about six notes, in a musical but 

 rather rough voice, and in exquisite accord 

 with the quiet solemnity of the hour. Again 

 and again the sounds fell on my ear, and as 

 often I endeavored to obtain a view of the 

 singer ; but he was in the thick of the upper 

 branches, and I looked for him in vain. How 

 delicious the music was ! a perfect lullaby, 

 drowsy and restful ; like the benediction of the 

 wood on the spirit of a tired city-dweller. I 

 blessed the unknown songster in return ; and 



