FINDINGS OF THE EAR 



is only a beginning of nature's improvisa- 

 tions on what might be called her dry 

 scales. 



Still deeper and sweeter are the harmon- 

 ies which she evokes from her liquid meas- 

 ures. In the pattering rain, which is really 

 only a liquid transposition of her lullaby of 

 the leaves, she sings us a cradle-song; in the 

 rill, a simple folk-song; in the brook, a 

 slightly fuller melody; in the river, a four- 

 part hymn with chorus; in the waterfall, a 

 solemn chant; in the cataract, a glorious 

 magnificat; while in the ocean tides and 

 breakers she gives us her masterpiece, for 

 whose orchestral performance she engages 

 the leadership of the moon. 



Nor does nature stop with what might 

 be called the tuneless passages of her classic 

 music; for who but she composed the ex- 

 quisite melodies which pour from the throats 

 of the wood and hermit thrushes, the song 

 sparrow, bluebird, lark, and bobolink? 

 And, once again, with the throats of myriad 

 birds, one finds our mother of infinite variety 

 multiplying and adding to the effects 



69 



