130 BY-WAYS AND BIRD-NOTES. 
ers of song joined well wita the flower-de-luce 
and the wild geranium. ‘Their racy fragrance 
was of kin to the leaf-smell and resin odor. 
Will’s voice seemed, in some mysterious way, 
to become the expression of the mood of Na- 
ture. A dream came upon me. I leaned 
against the wall of reeds and felt the coolness 
of their sappy stalks steal all through my frame. 
My sketch faded from my sight and I but 
vaguely noted the restless movements of my 
captive shrike. 
There are times when hearing a true lyric 
read aloud is the quintessence of all rapture- 
ful music. It is the expression of everything 
ariose and thrillingly sweet which has ever 
been played or written or sung, from Terpan- 
der to Remenyi, from Anacreon to Aldrich. 
I said something of this sort to Will in reply to 
a kindred suggestion from him touching the 
idyls. He arose and strung his bow, then, 
holding his ear close to the cord, he twanged 
it softly and replied: “‘ You hear that low note. 
Well, how many ages ago did man first hear 
it? The piano, the violin; the “lyre; sever 
stringed instrument is a growth from the long- 
bow. So some poet away off in yesterdays let 
fall the first perfect seed of song, and its kind 
will go on increasing in vigor and multiplying 
in number forever.” 
Somewhere, in the depths of the brake, a 
cat-bird began to trill and warble, and a big 
bass leaped above the water of the river, beside 
a half submerged log. The sun crept on and 
rolled down the west. As the shadows length- 
ened the heat withdrew, giving place to re- 
treshing coolness. We watched the little 
flurries of wind rimple the river’s face. Great 
