of tbe mtgbt 



the night was the subject of our conversation at 

 the time; when suddenly a sad, sweet song broke 

 the very stillness that we deplored. A vesper 

 sparrow most appropriate bird roused by the 

 light our fire shed about it, came even nearer to 

 us than it had been, joined the fireside circle as 

 it were, and sang in a most exquisite manner 

 sang as if dreaming another happy day had come. 



It is not strange that we slept well afterwards; it is 

 something to have "good-night" said to us in such 

 a manner. Nor was it strange we awoke at sun- 

 rise with senses all alert. Earth and the sun coun- 

 seled to picnic on the river, and we were fortunate 

 to be guests on such an occasion. There is wealth 

 in every moment of such a time. Nothing was 

 missed. No imperfection blighted objects at hand 

 or marred the landscape that hemmed us in. A 

 smoke-gray mist followed the river as it hurried 

 by ; the outermost hills were veiled in filmy cloud. 

 The near-shore pebbles were black, shining, and 

 dew-coated ; others dull-gray and making a curi- 

 ous line that puzzled us until we noticed that the 

 dry ones were protected by the overhanging trees. 



For a time never satisfied I missed the sing- 

 ing of the early summer birds it was now Sep- 

 tember but the early hours are fittest for silence. 

 The impression of peace, of rest after labor per- 

 formed, was that which made me congratulate 

 myself that I had happened here. 



Perhaps it was that the cunning birds were only 



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