A FOREST ANTHEM. 157 



expressing the praise, hope, and beauty of that 

 spot as the song which floated softly out from 

 the shadows. Those who from childhood have 

 known the song of the hermit thrush, and had it 

 woven into the very fibres of their hearts, will 

 know how I was thrilled by the voice of that 

 hermit thrush, singing on May-day evening at 

 the foot of Chocorua, while snow still gleamed 

 on the mountain summits. 



Strolling up the road south of the lakes I sud- 

 denly heard the nasal call of a woodcock coming 

 from a dry and sloping field facing the sunset. 

 Soon lie rose, and the sound, like that of a sing- 

 ing reed, came through the air. I looked up and 

 presently saw the bird circling irregularly in 

 the upper air, his wings beating rapidly. Jump- 

 ing the wall I hurried to the spot from which he 

 had risen. No sooner had I crouched among 

 the bushes than the water-whistle notes came 

 nearer and nearer, and then there was a great 

 rushing of swift wings and the bird alit within 

 a few paces of me. He immediately began mak- 

 ing a soft and odd note as a substitute for his 

 " 'n-yah ! " I had heard it described by the syl- 

 lables " puttie," but as it reached me, it lacked 

 the definiteness and disjunctive quality of those 

 sounds. That the bird saw me I did not doubt 

 for a moment. He faced me, and in the dim 

 light I seemed to feel his close set eyes fixed 



