304 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



chusetts or New Jersey ; a fact that merits constant repe- 

 tition until its full significance is felt. 



Except the ceaseless sound of the falling waters, noth- 

 ing broke the silence of the little yalley. What music 

 would we then have had, had a flock of tree-sparrows 

 settled in the scattered shrubs ! What melody, if, perched 

 upon the top of a lone cedar, the cardinal had whistled 

 his winter roundelay! How I longed for the bluebirds 

 and the crested tit, and placed, in my fancy, a Caroli- 

 na wren upon the rocks, where its song would blend 

 with the roar of the rushing waters about it. Could 

 the winter songs that gladden my home hill-side but be 

 brought to this wild spot and paradise would be almost 

 regained. 



It was with unwilling steps that I turned from the 

 flashing water-fall. That unchecked flow leaping over 

 and through the loose wall soothed me, as does the moan- 

 ing of pine trees or the murmur of the sea ; and who, 

 while happy, cares to brave an uncertain world? The 

 distant hill-top, bathed in warm light, was so beautiful 

 from afar that one might readily doubt if its merits would 

 increase by nearer acquaintance. 



Following, as best I could, my sure-footed companion, 

 we crossed the valley and walked rapidly over steadily 

 rising ground. Eapidly ? He did, but time and again I 

 stopped to catch my breath and allow my heart to become 

 less active. But such halting progress has its merit. At 

 one corner by an old stone wall I flushed a partridge. 

 The whirr of its wings was indeed music. We had been 

 out for hours and this was the first bird that I had seen 

 or heard. Then, noiselessly, and high overhead, a spar- 

 row winged its way toward the woods. I listened for at 

 least a chirp, but the bird was too intent upon reaching 

 some distant goal. As I passed up the cleared field that 

 extends to the summit of Helmet Hill, I confidently ex- 



