A Christmas Carol. 1 85 



ways of disappearing before a storm), you will find 

 them unusually quiet, and willing to bear your scrutiny 

 indifferently, instead of flying off into deeper coverts. 

 I had scarcely crossed the wall when I stopped at 

 hearing a new bird song, so amazingly sweet that it 

 could only be a Christmas message, yet so out of 

 place that the listener stood doubting whether his 

 ears were playing him false, wondering whether the 

 music or the landscape would not suddenly vanish as 

 an unreal thing. The song was continuous — a s(.)ft 

 melodious warble, full of sweetness and suggestion ; 

 but suggestion of June meadows and a summer sun- 

 rise, rather than of snow-packed evergreens and 

 Christmastide. To add to the unreality, no ear could 

 tell where the song came from ; its own muffled 

 quality disguised the source perfectly. I searched the 

 trees in front ; there was no bird there. I looked 

 behind ; there was no place for a bird to sing. I 

 remembered the redstart, how he calls sometimes 

 from among the rocks, and refuses to show himself, 

 and runs and hides when you look for him. I 

 searched the wall ; but not a bird track marked the 

 snow. All the while the wonderful carol went on, 

 now in the air, now close beside me, growing more 

 and more bewildering as I listened. It took me a 

 good half-hour to locate the sound; then I under- 

 stood. 



