84 The Wilderness Hunter 



ers, which lived in the hedge bordering the garden, 

 was constantly engaged in an amusing feud with 

 an honest old setter clog, the point of attack being 

 the tip of the dog s tail. For some reason the bird 

 seemed to regard any hoisting of the setter s tail as 

 a challenge and insult. It would flutter near the 

 dog as he walked; the old setter would become in 

 terested in something and raise his tail. The bird 

 would promptly fly at it and peck the tip; where 

 upon down went the tail until in a couple of minutes 

 the old fellow would forget himself, and the scene 

 would be repeated. The dog usually bore the as 

 saults with comic resignation ; and the mocker easily 

 avoided any momentary outburst of clumsy resent 

 ment. 



On the evening in question the moon was full. 

 My host kindly assigned me a room of which the 

 windows opened on a great magnolia tree, where, 

 I was told, a mocking-bird sang every night and all 

 night long. I went to my room about ten. The 

 moonlight was shining in through the open win 

 dow, and the mocking-bird was already in the mag 

 nolia. The great tree was bathed in a flood of 

 shining silver; I could see each twig, and mark 

 every action of the singer, who was pouring forth 

 such a rapture of ringing melody as I have never 

 listened to before or since. Sometimes he would 

 perch motionless for many minutes, his body quiv 

 ering and thrilling with the outpour of music. Then 



