THE PLAINS AND COLORADO 127 



come from every direction, mingling and swell- 

 ing, until perhaps the song of a robin bursts in 

 its full melody upon the hearer. Gradually all 

 the minstrels join, until, as the first streak of 

 gold illumines the horizon, it is possible to real- 

 ize something of the multitude of throats which 

 unite in the chorus. 



Such a symphony attains its greatest volume 

 about the time the sun is an hour high, and from 

 then until ten o'clock in the morning gradually 

 and imperceptibly dies again until one begins 

 to notice single and individualized songsters. 

 Finally the hush that heralds the interval of 

 noon, that is, from eleven o'clock until three 

 on a hot summer's day, is complete. 



Leaving Twin Lakes after a stay of some 

 six weeks, we proceeded by another route out of 

 the mountains, through the Ute Pass to Colorado 

 Springs. I can allude only to a few days spent 

 at the latter place. A visit to the Garden of the 

 Gods, where, for the first time, I saw the white- 

 bellied swift breeding in the crannies of the 

 monuments, towers, and cliffs of this fitly-named 

 park, suggested that, before the advent of houses, 

 his kinsman, the chimney-swift, probably took 

 advantage of similar sites for building nests and 

 rearing young. Perhaps it is necessary to be 

 more explicit. 



Obviously three hundred years ago the chim- 



