256 



THE CATBIRD. 



talented singers known. One such I remember, which, overcome by the charms 

 of a May day sunset, mounted the tip of a pasture elm, and poured forth a 

 hymn of praise in which every voice of w Hand and field was laid under con- 

 tribution. Yet all were suffused by the singer's own emotion. Oh, how thai 

 voice rang out upon the still evening air! The bird sang with true feeling, 

 an artist in every sense, and the delicacy and accuracy of his phrasing must 

 have silenced a much more captious critic than I. Never at a loss for a note, 

 never pausing to ask himself what he should sing next, he went steadily on, 

 now with a phrase from Robin's song, now with the shrill cry of the Red- 

 headed Woodpecker, each softened and refined as his own infallible musical 



mp> 



taste dictat- 

 ed : now and 

 again he in- 



I; • : fW ■ own none le^ 



b e a utifi 



The carol of 

 the Vireo,the 



tender ditties 

 of the Song 

 and Vesper 

 Sparrows, 

 and the more 

 pretent ious 

 efforts of the 

 G r o s beaks, 

 had all im- 



Tv Re:: IV. >. Hcnninger. 1) 1" e S S e d 



Taken near Waverly. ' 



AN EARLY XEST. t ll C 1U Selves 



upon this 

 musician's ear, and he repeated them, not slavishly, but with discernment and 

 deep appreciation. As the sun sank lower in the west I left him there, a dull 

 gray bird, with form scarcely outlined against the evening sky, but my soul 

 had taken flight with his— up into that blest abode where all Nature's voices 

 are blended into one, and all music is praise. 



