The Song and the Singer 125 



self, wonderful waves of melody had taken him 

 captive, had lifted him up in an indescribably 

 tender embrace and made a new creature of him. 

 It was no common bird song, it was a pean of 

 victory over the redemption of the most miserable 

 wretch beneath the blue sky. Almost before he 

 knew it, he was crying over the vanquished cur 

 who had come down to the river to end all and 

 the next instant, he was laughing and rejoicing 

 with the man who was going back to town to win 

 his own place in a world that was not all discord. 

 Both beauty and melody are divinely ordained to 

 bring about the salvation of the lost and they 

 frequently unite in the wild bird and the super- 

 human song. 



In the general narration of what birds have 

 done for me, I recall a case when a wandering 

 voice came to me with inexpressible cheer and 

 comfort, shepherding, so to speak, a lost sheep 

 at what age does a human creature cease to be a 

 lamb and become a sheep, is it seven? Lured 

 by a cow-bell on the neck of a frisky creature that 

 possibly was in training to jump over the moon, 

 I had wandered from six to nine o'clock, and 

 finally lost my way, in a forest where fences were 

 unknown and cattle ranged for miles. I was soon 

 to recall snatches of conversation that neighbors 

 had carried on with my father. We children 

 were not allowed to hear much of the talk, always 



