28 HURRAH! FOB THE COUNTRY! 



are mountain ranges, whose castellated peaks stand ont 

 in sharp and bold relief, on whose tops the beams of the 

 descending sun lie like a mantle of silver and gold. Glad 

 voices are ringing ; sounds of merriment make the evening 

 joyous with the music of the wild things around us. Hark ! 

 how from away off over the water, the voice of the loon 

 comes clear and musical and shrill, like the sound of a 

 clarion ; and note how it is borne about by the echoes from 

 hill to hill. Hark 1 again, to that clanking sound away up 

 in the air ; metallic ringing, like the tones of a bell. It is 

 the call of the cock of the woods as he flies, rising and fall- 

 ing, glancing upward and downward in his billowy flight 

 across the lake. Hark I to that dull sound, like blows 

 upon some soft, hollow, half sonorous substance, slow and 

 measured at first, but increasing in rapidity, until it rolls 

 like the beat of a muffled drum, or the low growl of the far- 

 off thunder* It is the partridge drumming upon his log 

 Hark 1 still again, to that quavering note, resembling some- 

 what the voice of the tree-frog when the storm is gathering, 

 but not so clear and shrill. It is the call of the raccoon, as 

 he clambers up some old forest tree, and seats himself 

 among the lowest of its great limbs. Listen to the almost 

 human halloo, the "hoo ! hohoo, hoo 1" that comes out 

 from the clustering foliage of an ancient hemlock. It is the 

 solemn call of the owl, as he sits among the limbs, looking 

 out from between the branches with his great round grey 

 e^es. Listen again and you will hear the voice of the cat- 

 bird, the brown thrush, the chervink, the little chickadee, the 



