160 YOUNG AMERICA IN FEATHERS. 



the added testimony of my eyes (though I 

 longed to see it, too). The instructor was a 

 superior singer, such as I have heard but few 

 times, and the song at its best is one of our 

 most choice, consisting of two short notes fol- 

 lowed by a tremolo perhaps an octave higher, in 

 a loud clear ring like a silver-toned bell. 



" Was never voice of ours could say 

 Our inmost in the sweetest way 

 Like yonder voice." 



For several minutes this rich and inspiring song 

 rang out from the bushes, to my great delight, 

 when suddenly it ceased, and a weak voice 

 piped up. It was neither so loud nor so clear ; 

 the introductory notes were given with uncer- 

 tainty and hesitation, and the tremolo was a 

 slow and very poor imitation. Still, it was 

 plain that the towhee baby was practicing for 

 his entrance into the ranks of our most bewitch- 

 ing singers. The next day, a chewink, I think 

 the same whose music and whose teaching I had 

 admired, honored me with a song and a sight 

 together. He was as spruce as if he had just 

 donned a new suit, his black hood like velvet, 

 his chestnut of the richest, and his white of the 

 whitest, and he sang from the top of a small 

 pine-tree ; sometimes, in the restless way of his 

 family, scrambling over the branches, and again 

 shifting his position to a small birch-tree. 



