The Chorus of the Forest 



tile, and for many other purposes, some of them 

 very amusing. Wherever man takes possession of 

 the gift of the Lord the forest and its music dis- 

 appear. 



To be sure, new music springs up in the fields 

 to take its place, but the substitute is very mild. 

 On account of its wild, weird, appealing strain, The 

 found nowhere else in nature, the chorus of the > Y 1 - 1 '? e8 . t: 



of Music 



forest thrills the heart. It is the only place on 

 earth where tree music can be had in perfection, 

 and no other is like it. Great organs have been 

 built and numerous wind and string instruments 

 made, all in an effort to reproduce the sigh and 

 the sob, the w r ail and the roar of the forest, but 

 they forever fall short of its grandeur and majesty. 

 This incomparable tree harping can not be re- 

 produced out of its element; it may be copied in 

 parts so accurately that its tones can be recognized, 

 but the real music of nature is when the waves 

 of wind sweep among the boughs of trees. It is 

 when crickets of the forest floor sing cheerily, 

 when grasshoppers energetically play their fiddles, 

 and locusts sow their notes on summer air. The 

 leaf-rustle of the chewink on earth, the mournful 

 Avail of the pewee in the treetops, the impudent 

 chuckle of the crow, and the battle-cry of the 

 hawk, are parts of it. The scream of the night 

 jar, the command of the whip-poor-will, and the 

 serenade of the courting owl combine their notes. 

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