THROUGH LIBRARY WINDOWS 113 



drops it and takes up another and so on 

 through all the seven. But when he sings you 

 are sure that life is worth living, and that this 

 world is worth living in. What a charming 

 note that "tschip" is, the tone of it is a rich 

 contralto. His ordinary song consists of one 

 high note repeated three times and a rapid 

 run down the scale and back again, but oh! 

 it is so sweet. 



Here at my left in the still thickets close by 

 the brook lives our Wood Thrush. He is a 

 welcome resident of our garden. There is no 

 bird whose bearing is more distinguished, or 

 whose songs are more spiritual. He always ap- 

 peals to our higher nature and stirs our emo- 

 tions. He is a lovable bird and his voice is 

 suited to his disposition. His calm, restful song 

 rings through the woods like a hymn of praise. 

 That flute-like "Come to Me," which he 

 so often sings, is the perfection of tenderness. 

 It is an invitation into his sylvan haunts to 

 share the quiet, uplifting influence of the forest. 

 His song is quite disconnected, broken by short 

 pauses and by low notes of exceeding sweetness 

 audible only when one is near the singer. But 

 his magic song-phrase seems always at his beak- 

 tip. What a happy bird he must be for his 

 song is one sweet outburst of bliss. He knew 



