INSTINCT 



the bird, and hear the sweet " Tu-le, tu-li-le." 

 A beautiful strain, but only the prelude to 

 the true song, which is seldom heard away 

 from their summer home. Years ago I wrote 

 the following description of the song of the 

 hermit-thrush : 



" To me the song of the hermit-thrush is 

 the sweetest sound in nature. It is not a plain- 

 tive, pensive, or tender strain, but satisfies the 

 senses and clings to the memory like the 

 recollection of some great joy. 



" I shall never forget a song I once heard 

 in the woods of northern Maine. I was in a 

 bark-peeling camp at the time. A rainy 

 day had sent the crew to their homes in the 

 settlement until the next morning; and I 

 was left alone. 



" The rain poured down in torrents. The 

 wind howled and roared through the tree-tops, 

 flinging great sheets of water on to the bark 

 roof of the camp. My spirits were depressed 

 and gloomy. Financial troubles, the loss of a 

 cherished home, had disheartened me, and life 

 seemed hardly worth living. 

 279 



