296 VOICES FROM THE WOODLANDS. 



should a bustling breeze sport with some leafy branch in 

 passing, or a prattling stream rush tumultuously over 

 its pebbly bed. At one moment it seemed as if fairies 

 were singing quietly among themselves, with a kind of 

 dreamy melody, that brought to mind many a strange 

 legend beloved in childhood ; at another, it was like 

 a very distant echo of church-bells, such as I once 

 heard responding from a wood, in the stillness of a 

 summer evening. Presently, however, the song ceased; 

 and one sweet voice, then another, sang by turns, each 

 one embodying her own history, in accents not louder 

 than the low sweet plaint of the smallest willow-wren, 

 but clear and audible; and thus the friendly contention 

 ran : 



When I look upon my distinguished sisters, and yonder 

 noble brotherhood of elms, the theme of poets and his- 

 torians, I might surely feel somewhat discouraged, said 

 a wild cornel-tree. And yet I feel, strong within me, a 

 consciousness of utility, and that, rightly filling up my 



