54 THE QUEST OF A THRUSH 



get, the puzzling song. But fate was kinder 

 than I dared hope. The very first morning 

 I was wakened by an unfamiliar and remark- 

 able bird-note, a low, liquid " quit," some- 

 times followed by an explosive sound, a 

 sort of subdued squawk. This sound was a 

 nasal " a," like " a " in " man." The bird said 

 " quit-a " in that tone, and with so much 

 emphasis on the second syllable that it had an 

 explosive effect. Naturally this mystified me 

 and aroused great interest, especially because, 

 in spite of my persistent efforts, I was unable 

 to get a glimpse of the bird. 



This state of affairs continued for several 

 days. But as we have been told, and as some 

 of us know, " all things come in time to him 

 who can wait." To me at last came my 

 chance. One afternoon there rolled in upon 

 us, from our restless neighbor, the sea, an 

 all-embracing fog, which gradually enfolded 

 us till we were closely wrapped as in a heavy 

 blanket. The fog-bell on a point near by 

 tolled dismally, and a more distant whistling- 

 buoy sent out at intervals a groan, as if 

 wailing for all who had found graves beside 

 the rocks it was now set to guard. All night 



