Where Town and Country Meet 



gossip in the alders. The bluebird pro- 

 claims his return in the sweetest song of 

 all. Then the delicate trilling of the field- 

 sparrows and vesper-sparrows breaks into 

 the medley. Then, toward the last of April, 

 you hear the rich contralto of the brown 

 thrasher in the depths of the thickening 

 foliage. At last arrives the final section of 

 the bird-express, crowded with the gay 

 singers who make up the chorus the wrens 

 and wood-thrushes, the various warblers, 

 the vireos, the orioles, the catbirds, the 

 whip-poor-wills, the bobolinks, the pewees, 

 the yellow-throats, the tanagers, the indigo- 

 birds, and so many others that one almost 

 despairs of keeping tally of them all. 



Then what a pleasant place to sit, in the 

 lingering, delicious evenings of May and 

 June, is my study window, overlooking a 

 paradise of birds ! I lean back, as the soft, 

 fragrant breeze steals into the room, and 

 the feathered choir sings its vesper hymn, 

 and give myself up to the joy of the love of 

 nature. What a holy thing it is, this na- 

 ture-love, what a pure, sweet, religious 

 thing ! You can not put it into a creed, or 

 even into a psalm; but it lifts you, some- 

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