428 GRAY LADY AND THE BIRDS 
and I tapped my faithful companion to prevent his an- 
swering them. The thoughts of my worldly mission 
then came over my mind, and having thanked the Creator 
of all for His never-failing mercy, I closed my eyes and 
was passing away into the world of dreaming existence, 
when suddenly there burst on my soul the serenade of 
the Rose-breasted Bird, so rich, so mellow, so loud in 
the stillness of the night, that sleep fled from my eyelids. 
Never did I enjoy music more: it thrilled through my 
heart and surrounded me with an atmosphere of bliss. 
One might easily have imagined that even the Owl, 
charmed by such delightful music, remained reverently 
silent. Long after the sounds ceased did I enjoy them, 
and when all had again become still, I stretched out my 
wearied limbs and gave myself up to the luxury of repose.’ 
“‘ As anear-by garden neighbour, the Rosebreast, though 
shy by nature, may become as intimate as the Wood 
Thrush, and if you are near his feeding haunts you will 
notice, aside from his song, he has a way of talking when 
he feeds and that, with a little imagination, you can 
translate his words to suit yourself. I had once thought 
this an idea of my own, but this clipping in my scrap- 
book proves the contrary, and that others have made 
his notes into words.” 
A TALKING ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK. 
Early last summer, while standing on my back steps, 
I heard a cheerful voice say, “ You’re a pretty bird. 
Where are you?” I supposed it to be the voice of a 
Parrot, but wondered how any Parrot could talk loud 
