LOVE-MAKING AND HOME-BUILDING 



And behold, is it not, as if in considerate cor- 

 roboration of my statement, that that forest re- 

 cluse, the hermit-thrush, suddenly appears among 

 the piled-up branches just before us? He is no 

 doubt making his way to some forest north of us, 

 but what an honor to have had him even halt 

 here. His very presence breathes calm and mys- 

 tery. One feels instinctively that his dwelling is 

 in holy places. 



" I know that I have fallen upon the sacred 

 hour when the song of the woods is a prayer," says 

 one in speaking of this voice as heard in forest sol- 

 itudes. " There is a strain in this note that was 

 never caught under blue skies and in the safe nest- 

 ing of the familiar fields. It is the voice of soli- 

 tude suddenly breaking into sound ; it is the 

 speech of that other world so near our doors and 

 yet removed from us by uncounted centuries and 

 unexplored experiences." * 



Not here, lest we disturb our rare little guest, 

 but as we move slowly on toward the secular, 

 every-day portions of the grove, I will tell you of 

 some of the homely purposes served by the brush- 

 heaps at my summer feeding site. 



You noted them, one under the dining-room 



* Mr. Hamilton W. Mabie, in Under the Trees and Elsewhere. 



[151] 



