122 IN BIRD LAND. 
lengthened out the gloaming and added many 
precious minutes to the singing hours of the birds. 
Such a woodland chorus as I was permitted to 
listen to that evening! It was a rare privilege. 
How the wood-thrushes vied with the towhee 
buntings! Which would sing the latest? That 
seemed to be the question. At length there were 
several moments of silence, and I supposed all the 
birds had gone to sleep, when a white-throated 
sparrow and a wood-pewee struck in with their 
sweet strains; and so the chorus continued until 
it was really night. ‘The wood-thrushes, I think, 
got in the last note of the twilight serenade. 
Before it had become quite dark, I espied a 
wood-thrush sitting in the fork of a dogwood-tree, 
looking at me in a startled way; but she did not 
fly. JI walked off some distance, remained awhile, 
and then) retumeds to find “her »still ine her place: 
Then I strolled about until night had fully come ; 
the moon shone brightly, so that it was not dark. 
When I went back to the dogwood-tree, the 
speckled breast of the thrush was still visible in 
the fork which she had chosen for her bed-chamber, 
and I wished her pleasant dreams. 
While stalking about, I startled another wood- 
thrush, which had selected a loose brush-heap on 
the ground instead of a sapling or tree for a roost. 
The indigo-birds and bush-sparrows flew up from 
the blackberry bushes as I pushed my way through 
them. Several times the towhee buntings leaped 
scolding out of bed, having selected brush-heaps, 
