260 SOLITARY THE THRUSH. 



the solemn chant of "the hermit withdrawn to 

 himself." 



"Whenever a man hears it," says our devoted 

 lover of Nature, Thoreau, "he is young, and 

 Nature is in her spring; wherever he hears it 

 there is a new world, and the gates of heaven 

 are not shut against him." 



One might quote pages of rhapsody from poets 

 and prose writers, yet to him who has not drunk 

 of the enchantment, they would be but words ; 

 they would touch no chord that had not already 

 been thrilled by the marvelous strain itself. 



My first acquaintance in the beautiful family 

 was the wood-thrush, and the study of his charms 

 of voice and character filled me with love for 

 the whole bird tribe. He frequented the places 

 I also preferred, the quiet nooks and out of the 

 way corners of a large city park. At that time 

 I thought no bird note on earth could equal his ; 

 but a year or two later, on the shore of Lake 

 George, I fell under the magical sway of another 

 voice, whose few notes were exceedingly simple 

 in arrangement, but full of the strangely thrill- 

 ing power characteristic of the thrush family. 



Four years passed, at first in search of the 

 owner of the "wandering voice" that had be- 

 witched me, and when I had found it to be the 

 tawny thrush or veery, in study of the attractive 

 singer himself, which made me an enthusiastic 



