The Masters of Melody. 



97 



conversing together, have each wished that the other 

 would stop talking because a thrush was singing, 

 and yet neither had the courage to express his 

 thoughts ! Another absurdity, says the critic ; but 

 what are you going to do about it, my friend ? it is 

 true. Surely it is not correct to say that critics are 

 not truthful. 



I shall never cease to be thankful that birds are 

 no respecters of persons ; years ago even the cardinal 

 dared trespass on the fields of a Quaker, and the 

 oriole swung in his 

 willows, and every 

 gay bird of the mi- 

 grating host raided 

 his garden and 

 danced at times 

 and set the bad 

 example of flirting ; 



and, while there ^v 

 was no singing in 

 the house, there 

 was a never-ceas- 

 ing flow of melody 

 in the orchard, in the garden, down the long lane, 

 about every field, and over the wide meadows. Sing- 

 ing and merry-making everywhere ; and in spite of 

 preaching and frowns and every mild repression of 

 the musical instinct in children, there existed a secret 

 thankfulness in the old Quaker's heart that the birds 

 about him were never-failing sources of sweet sounds. 

 That ''local color" or ''atmosphere" or "peculiar 

 E ^ 9 



Wood-thrush. 



