A DAY’S OUTING IN SEARCH OF THE ARBUTUS. 59 
Just before dusk I was much interested in the sing- 
ing of a wood thrush. It was in the edge of the woods 
back of the hotel. The gurgling preludes and inter- 
ludes were fine, while the song itself, alternating on 
high and low keys, was sweet and mellow as any flute 
and exquisitely modulated. Each “trill-a dee dee!” 
came back in echo clear and perfect as the song itself. 
At first those who heard it supposed the echo came 
from the rocks across the river, but in changing posi- 
tions we soon found that the barn sent it back, thus 
doubling the effect of the delightful harmony. 
