MIGRATION. 
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, 
And flowers put on a fairer hue, 
And everything was strange and new. 
The quaint story of Noah’s gathering the 
animals into the ark is always linked in my 
mind with the Pied Piper, and with that strange 
turn in the tide of bird life which is called mi¬ 
gration. The marvelous music which charmed 
the rats and children of Hamelin town must 
have been used by Noah to call his creatures 
into the ark of safety, and it is still to be heard 
in the winds of autumn sighing through the 
Chocorua forests and calling the birds away to 
other lands. One day all is calm and serene; 
the next, though the sky is just as blue and the 
sunlight just as warm, something of unrest is in 
the air, and the birds are telling each other the 
story of the great journey. Songs are forgotten 
or sung only to greet the dawn and bless the 
night; nestlings are trained to flight and led 
silent journeys through field, forest, or ether 
after food; new scenes are visited, and the weak 
