222 THE SOLITAIRE. 



to make him oblivious of peoj^le, although they 

 may be within a few feet of him. 



Passing one of these peculiarly lonely places 

 one day in his wanderings, Mr. Ober heard the 

 note of the siffleur close at hand. He crept 

 cautiously through the trees until he saw the 

 bird, who had ceased singing, and was eating 

 berries from a tall shrub, clinging to its hanging 

 branches. 



He soon finished his repast, flew to a dead 

 branch, plumed his feathers, and after a few 

 moments resumed his singing. He uttered a 

 few trills of a rare musical quality that held his 

 listener spellbound, then lightly flew to another 

 branch overhanging the little ravine, at the 

 bottom of which a babbling brook made music, 

 — " not so liquid as siffleurs," — says the his- 

 torian. Here a few more strains fell from him, 

 then he flitted to a swinging vine, rei3eated his 

 bewitching note, and in a moment disappeared. 

 The tones, says Mr. Ober, "are thrilling with 

 solemn music and indescribably impressive." 

 They have also a ventriloquial quality, and many 

 times had he vainly searched for the singer, 

 until a note of another sort betrayed his position, 

 which was sometimes almost over the observer's 

 head. 



One morning a captive siffleur was dragged 

 out of the trousers pocket of one of his " ragged 



