252 THE CLEKK OF THE WOODS 



mood. Sometimes as many as five or six 

 were singing together, while a chorus of 

 snowbirds trilled the prettiest of accompani- 

 ments ; a concert worthy of Easter or any 

 other festival. 



The weather has been of a kind to keep 

 night-traveling migrants here, I say ; which is 

 as much as to say that it has been of a sort 

 to prevent other such birds from arriving. 

 There have been no bright nights, I think, 

 since April came in. So it happens, accord- 

 ing to my theory (which may be as sound or 

 as unsound as the reader pleases), that al- 

 though it is now the 10th of the month, 

 there has been, for my eye, no sign of chip- 

 per, field sparrow, or vesper sparrow. How 

 should there be? How should such crea- 

 tures find their way, with the fog and the 

 rain blinding them night after night ? No 

 doubt they are impatient to be at home again 

 in the old dooryards, the old savin-dotted 

 pastures, and the old hay-fields. By and by 

 the clouds will vanish, and they will hasten 

 northward in crowds. The night air will be 

 full of them, and the next day all outdoor, 

 bird-loving people will be in clover. 



