The End of the Night. 185 



nestling among the cushions of my brain, and. often, I had 

 walked much farther. In the fields around me and in the 

 air above me, I could hear the calls of the night birds. Every- 

 where was the cry of the kildeer and the plaintive peet ivcct 

 of the woodcock probing for worms in the wet fields. Over- 

 head the night-flying migrants kept calling to one another; 

 but not a bird could I see. 



A light wind began to blow. I heard a wild. mournfuU 

 agonized, soul-piercing scream, followed by a miserable, 

 high-pitched, it's-all-up-with-me groan. "What in thunder?" 

 There was no way past but by, and I am always interested 

 in ghosts : so I tramped on until I could distinguish the wheel 

 of a farmer's windmill revolving with "soul-piercing" shrieks 

 for grease. 



Just at three o'clock, the moon flipped up from behind her 

 vapory screen of clouds, and. at the same moment, a song 

 sparrow in a bush by the roadside, woke with a jerk and 

 started off in the middle of his song. Just why he began in 

 the middle, I do not know, unless he had been dreaming and 

 woke with the song on his mind, or he was still so sleepy 

 that be could think only of the last part of it. 



On I tramped, thinking of this and other things, until a 

 robin began to carol his matutinal hymn from a fence post ; 

 the vesper sparrow^s chanted their matins, and the dickcissel 

 began the monotonous rehearsal of his unmusical lays, which 

 he repeats all through the long summer days. The cock's 

 shrill clarion re-echoed from every chicken-coop, and the 

 flute-like whistle of the meadowlark was the avian bugle-call 

 for breakfast. From the woods beside the road came the 

 energetic zi.'ichity zvichity of the Northern yellowthroat, the 

 earnest song of the indigo bunting, and the sleepy call of the 

 wood pewee. The sky grew lighter and lighter, and all the 

 robins of the neighborhood seemd to have united for one 

 grand concerto, assisted by the tuneful song sparrow and 

 monotonous chippy. As the regal sun swung up over the 

 horizon in gorgeous state, it was greeted by a tinkling burst 



