NATURE'S CHOIR. 83 



as the leaves turn yellow and golden, and fall 

 fluttering to the ground. It is difficult to put 

 on paper the voice of the different birds their 

 melodious love warbles, their call-notes, the fierce 

 notes of defiance, the notes of alarm, down to 

 the chirp of the young. '* No, the melody of 

 birds, like the fragrance of flowers," says Bech- 

 stein, " cannot be described ; it must be felt, 

 and that by one whose senses are properly 

 attuned to outward harmony by an indwelling 

 and abiding love of the beautiful and the pure 

 in nature. To him the soaring Lark will seem, 

 indeed, to pour forth at heaven's gate a morning 

 hymn of praise, and the nightingale to chant r 

 amid the leafy woodlands, a vesper song of 

 thankfulness ; the full chorus of feathered min- 

 strelsy will be to him like an angel choir, 

 scattering melody on all around, which sinks 

 into the soul like summer rain into the earth, 

 gladdening and refreshing it." 



How refreshing it is to walk in the country 

 in the spring of the year and hear the woods 



