2 WILD SCENES AND SONG-BIEDS. 



sprig with such unconscious earnestness gushing out 

 strains that are to chime the solemn dance of systems! 

 Mystery is all around us. Who knows but that these 

 things be ? 



Whether or no, it is a marvellous reality to hear birds 

 singing. If you look at them while they do it, with their 

 upturned bills, their rapt, softened, half-closed eyes, their 

 bodies quivering in the ecstatic travail you cannot but feel 

 in reverential mood, and hear your own rebuked heart whis* 

 pering "let us pray!" 



What ! When their shrill, melodious clamorings go up 

 with the mists before the sun, and make his coming over 

 earth to be with light in music, are they not chaunting mat- 

 ins to the God of all ? 



When he hastens to decline, and from the spires of tree- 

 tops everywhere the Thrush and Eobin sing a low- voiced 

 hymn is it not a vesper-symphomQ of thanks ? 



And when, in the deep night, the Oriole, in dreamy twit- 

 terings, and the Mocking-bird, in clear, triumphing notes, 

 stir the dark shadows of the cold, gray moon to the wild 

 pulsing of unmeasured chords is it not a worship fitting to 

 that mystic time ? 



Verily, they symbol to us a spiritual and a holier life ! 

 The purpose of their being is in prayer and praise, just as 

 they say it is with Angels. 



They do not taste the fruits of earth, and revel in the 

 warm kisses of the day unthankfully ; but when their little 

 hearts forever drinking love fill up to the brim, they let 

 their cadent fulness go towards heaven. 



They sing when they have eaten they sing when they 

 have drunk while they are waking, music always trembles 

 at their breasts they pay back the caressing sun in sweet- 

 ness and when they sleep, and the shining beams are show- 

 ered silently and pale, down from the bosom of the darkness 

 over them, their dreams break out in momentary song. 



They take the berry, flushing underneath green leaves, 





