328 SPORT INDEED 



several songsters was difficult. They all sang to- 

 gether and so lustily and well it was indeed hard to 

 tell which was which. I listened, and by and by my 

 ear recognized the warble of the gay-dressed oriole ; 

 then the sweet, loving song of the linnet ; then the 

 robin, the flicker, the catbird, the blue-jay and the 

 song-sparrow, while from across a trout-pond the 

 familiar note of Bob White rang out clear and 

 sweet, piercing the morning air like the notes of a 

 piccolo. Then a Wilson snipe started up and swept 

 away in the distance with its cry of "Scaip!" 

 " scaip ! " while a pair of sand-snipe joined their piping 

 notes to the pleasing chorus. The red- winged black- 

 bird and the mottle-breasted thrush, both volunteered 

 their aid to the sunrise concert and were as blithe in 

 the execution of their arias as the rest of the feathered 

 tenors. But I mustn't forget to mention the leader of 

 the troupe, the bobolink. I heard him pouring out 

 his rollicking song, and he did it with such gusto I 

 thought the pipes of his little throat would surely 

 split. 



Yes, the air was full of glee. But, while the birds 

 sang and the bees worked and the trout leaped for the 

 passing fly — while roseate shadows flecked the blue 

 vault and kissed the brooks that babbled through the 

 daisies — while joy and gladness reigned in I^ature's 

 realm and the good dame seemed to be chuckling 

 over the cleverness of her own handiwork, Sorrow 



