MAY 



21 



I hear the note of a bobolink concealed in the 

 top of an apple-tree behind me. ... He is just 

 touching the strings of his theorbo, his glassichord, 

 his water organ, and one or two notes globe them- 

 selves and fall in liquid bubbles from his tuning 

 throat. It is as if he touched his harp within a 

 vase of liquid melody, and when he lifted it out 

 the notes fell like bubbles from the trembling 

 strings. Methinks they are the most liquidly 

 sweet and melodious sounds I ever heard. . . . Oh, 

 never advance farther in your art ; never let us hear 

 your full strain, sir ! But away he launches, and 

 the meadow is all bespattered with melody. 



THOKEAU: Summer. 

 22 



Hear a red squirrel chirrup at me by the hem- 

 locks. . . . He makes so many queer sounds, and so 

 different from one another, that you would think 

 they came from half a dozen creatures. I hear now 

 two sounds from him of a very distinct character, 

 a low or base internal, worming, screwing kind of 

 sound (very like that, by the way, which an anx- 

 ious partridge mother makes), and at the same 

 time a very sharp and shrill bark, clear, and on a 

 very high key, totally distinct from the last, while 

 his tail is nourishing incessantly. You might say 

 that he successfully accomplished the difficult feat 

 of singing and whistling at the same time. 



THOKEAU: Early Spring in Massachusetts. 



