THE VESPER SOXU OF THE WOODCOCK. 81 



and the farewell to the day was full of splendor. 

 Wachusett, distant and pale blue, was flanked 

 by two of the Lexington ridges heavily grown 

 with pines. The mountain and its two dark 

 guardians stood out sharply against a background 

 of the richest orange, deepening at the horizon 

 to red. Above the mountain the sky was clear 

 yellow until it reached a bank of slaty -blue 

 cloud. The sunlight piercing this cloud bank 

 flecked it with rose color, while drifting bits of 

 cloud falling against the orange became bright 

 like gold. Thanks to this gorgeous sunset, I 

 lingered on the hill until darkness pervaded the 

 woods. Then I ran down through a grove of 

 oaks and came out in a damp meadow com- 

 pletely surrounded by tall trees. The last song 

 sparrow was singing good night. Across the 

 west only a single band of orange light remained. 

 In the zenith stars were beginning to shine. A 

 strange cry came from the meadow grass. It 

 recalled the night hawk's squawk, softened by 

 distance. Again and again it came : " N'yah," 

 then a pause, then " n'yah " again, and so on, 

 until this had been uttered a dozen times. I 

 drew nearer the spot from which this odd call 

 came. Perhaps it was a frog of some kind ; per- 

 haps a bird of the swarnp. The sound ceased, 

 but the next moment there seemed to be a musi- 

 cal ringing in my ears which rapidly grew more 



