6 TRAMPS WITH AN ENTHUSIAST. 



hour or two ago, and now I want to go where 

 I can hear a hermit thrush. I 've come all the 

 way from Chicago to hear that bird." 



She dismounted, declined the invitation to tea 

 given by my hostess, who stood speechless with 

 amazement at the erratic taste that would forego 

 tea for the sake of a bird song, and we started 

 at once up the road, where I had seen the bird 

 perched in a partially dead hemlock-tree, and 

 heard 



" his ravishing carol ring 

 From the topmost twig he made his throne." 



Everything was perfectly still. Not a bird 

 peeped. Even the tireless vireo, who peopled 

 the woods as the English sparrow the city 

 streets, was hushed. I began to be anxious ; 

 could it be too cool for song ? or too late ? We 

 walked steadily on, up the beautiful winding 

 road : on one side dense forest, on the other 

 lovely changing views of the hills across the 

 intervale, blue now with approaching night. 

 Crows called as they hurried over; the little 

 sandpiper's " ah weet ! weet ! weet ! " came up 

 from the river bank, but in the woods all was 

 silent. 



Still we went on, climbing the steep hills, 

 loitering through the valleys, till suddenly a 

 bird note broke the stillness, quite near us, a 

 low, yearning " wee-o ! " 



