A "WANDERING VOICE." 103 



der the maple had not moved for half an hour, 

 and was undoubtedly some new device of man's, 

 made of wood perhaps, for he did not hesitate 

 on the door-step, but plunged in at once, and 

 devoted himself to the business in hand, clearing 

 out, while she vanished. 



But though I watched this domestic scene 

 with pleasure, and saw and noted every feather 

 that appeared about me, the tree-tops had my 

 closest attention, for there I was certain I 

 should find my rare singer. Hours passed, the 

 shadows grew long, and sadly and slowly I took 

 my way homewards, wishing I had a charm 

 against fatigue, mosquitoes, and other terrors 

 of the night, and could stay out till he came. 



All through the month of June I haunted that 

 wood, seeking the unknown. Every evening I 

 heard him, but no sight came to gladden my 

 eyes. I grew almost to believe it merely "a 

 wandering voice," and I went home with my 

 longing unsatisfied. 



When next the month of roses came around, 

 I betook myself to a spur of the Hoosac Moun- 

 tains to see my birds. The evening of my 

 arrival, as the twilight gathered, rose the call of 

 my witching voice. 



"What bird is that?" I demanded, with the 

 usual result; no one knew. (A chapter might 

 be written on the ignorance of country people of 



