A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



they had been poisoned in some way. Then 

 the smarting extended to my neck and face, 

 even to my scalp, when I began to suspect 

 what was the matter. So, wrapping myself 

 up more thoroughly, and stowing my hands 

 away as best I could, I tried to sleep, being 

 some time behind my companions, who ap- 

 peared not to mind the "no-see-ems." I 

 was further annoyed by some little irregu- 

 larity on my side of the couch. The cham- 

 bermaid had not beaten it up well. One 

 huge lump refused to be mollified, and each 

 attempt to adapt it to some natural hollow 

 in my own body brought only a moment's 

 relief. But at last I got the better of this 

 also, and slept. Late in the night I woke 

 up, just in time to hear a golden-crowned 

 thrush sing in a tree near by. It sang 

 as loud and cheerily as at midday, and I 

 thought myself after all quite in luck. 

 Birds occasionally sing at night, just as the 

 cock crows. I have heard the hairbird, and 

 the note of the kingbird ; and the ruffed 

 grouse frequently drums at night. 



At the first faint signs of day a wood- 

 thrush sang, a few rods below us. Then 

 after a little delay, as the gray light began 

 to grow around, thrushes broke out in full 



