made the air shiver. Cockatoos screamed; 

 noisy parrots squawked hideously. Chil- 

 dren were playing and shouting near by. Qneufouch of 

 In the yard itself fifty birds were singing or Nafure''^^^^ 

 crying strange notes. Besides all this, the 

 quail I had seen had been hatched far from 

 home, under a strange mother. So I had 

 little hope of success. 



But as the call grew louder and louder, 

 a liquid yodel came like an electric shock 

 from a clump of bushes on the left. There 

 he was, looking, listening. Another call, 

 and he came running toward me. Others 

 appeared from every direction, and soon a 

 score of quail were running about, just inside 

 the screen, with soft gurglings like a hidden 

 brook, doubly delightful to an ear that had 

 longed to hear them. 



City, gardens, beasts, strangers, — all van- 

 ished in an instant. I was a boy in the 

 fields again. The rough New England hill- 

 side grew tender and beautiful in the sunset 

 light; the hollows were rich in autumn 

 glory. The pasture brook sang on its way 

 to the river; a robin called from a crimson 



