The Music-makers. 83 



the foam come in smothering masses 

 over his head. The next minute I 

 caught sight of him higher up the 

 stream, crossing a pool of com- 

 paratively smooth water, keeping 

 well below the surface, his quick 

 snatching movements alone betray- 

 ing his whereabouts; his admiring 

 mate waiting the end of the per- 

 formance, with her pretty sleek head 

 on one side, and her white breast 

 reflected in the water. 



Presently he rose hi the air, and 

 she flew to meet him, their wings 

 touching and parting as they gam- 

 bolled together like a pair of butter- 

 flies. Then, tired at last, he returned 

 to his stone and began his song. 



The fine clear notes rang out 

 above the ripple of the rushing 

 water, mingling with it in a manner 

 positively ravishing. The song of 

 the Water-ouzel is no snatch of 

 broken melody, but a full sustained 

 song, most true and pure and sweet. 



