A SUMMEE NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 



WHEN the decline of day is plainly perceptible in the 

 lengthened shadows of the trees and the more refresh- 

 ing coolness of the atmosphere, many rare birds, that 

 since morning have been silent, begin their songs anew. 

 Evening comes not unattended by the same captivating 

 splendors that lead up the Morn, and the same melodies 

 that herald her approach. As she descends from her pavil- 

 ion of crimson and amber to spread her twilight over the 

 earth, calling down the gentle dews from heaven, and 

 bringing refreshment to the drooping herbs, the heavens 

 show forth their gladness in the myriad hues of sunset, and 

 all animated nature raises a shout of music and thankful- 

 ness. But there is a pensiveness in the melodies of evening 

 that sweetly harmonizes with the sober, meditative hour ; 

 and the same birds that in the morning pour out their me- 

 lodious lays as from hearts full of rejoicing, now whisper 

 them in accents more subdued, like the quiet breathing 

 of the winds as they are wafted over the sleeping flowers. 



Just before the sun declines, the thrushes, which are 

 true forest warblers, are very tuneful, and continue to 

 sing until dusk. The note of the little veery is the last 

 to be heard, and when his song has ceased the night 

 may be said to have commenced ; though, even after this 

 time, the sweet notes of the vesper-bird are occasionally 

 poured out from some station in the open field. But in 

 our woods, at this season, silence does not immediately 

 ensue. A restlessness prevails among the feathered tribes, 

 as if they were yet unprepared to renounce the pleasures 



