BY TWILIGHT. 161 
heard the startling notes of this beautiful 
songster, coming as it seems out of the soft 
balmy air with melodious abruptness, has failed 
to arrest his steps, and listen—absorbed, intent— 
at the bubbling strains of music poured forth 
into the night? Has it not seemed a profanity to 
allow the noise of one’s footsteps to jar upon the 
ear when sounds so soft, so musical, so tenderly 
sweet, are—though uttered by so small a song- 
ster—rising, expanding, and filling as it were 
the vault of heaven with a volume of harmony? 
We walk, as we continue our way, upon the 
greensward, which gives back no audible sound, 
so that we miss not one note of the night warbler. 
But now the song has ceased as suddenly as it 
began; and silence again falls on the forest. 
Soon we see lights from a cottage window, and 
anon we end our ramble at our woodland inn. 
K 2 
