descent, rapidly
increasing to a curious little whirling storm-roar at the bottom, and
gradually fading lower and lower until the top was reached. It was
long, however, before we identified this mysterious wing-singer as the
little brown jack snipe that we knew so well and had so often watched
as he silently probed the mud around the edges of our meadow stream
and spring-holes, and made short zigzag flights over the grass
uttering only little short, crisp quacks and chucks.

The love-songs of the frogs seemed hardly less wonderful than those of
the birds, their musical notes varying from the sweet, tranquil,
soothing peeping and purring of the hylas to the awfully deep low-bass
blunt bellowing of the bullfrogs. Some of the smaller species have
wonderfully clear, sharp voices and told us their good Bible names in
musical tones about as plainly as the whip-poor-will. _Isaac, Isaac;
Yacob, Yacob; Israel, Israel_; shouted in sharp, ringing, far-reaching
tones, as if they had all been to school and severely drilled in
elocution. In the still, warm evenings, big bunchy bullfrogs bellowed,
_Drunk! Drunk! Drunk! Jug o' rum! Jug o' rum_! and early in the
spring, countless thousands of the commonest species, up to the throat
in cold water, sang in concert, making a mass of music, such as it
was, loud enough to be heard at a distance of more than half a mile.

Far, far apart from this loud marsh music is that of the many species
of hyla, a sort of soothing immortal melody filling the air like
light.

We reveled in the glory of the sky scenery as well as that of the
woods and meadows and rushy, lily-bordered lakes. The great
thunderstorms in particular interested us, so unlike any seen in
Scotland, exciting awful, wondering admiration. Gazing awe-stricken,
we watched the upbuilding of the sublime cloud-mountains,--glowing,
sun-beaten pearl and alabaster cumuli, glorious in beauty and majesty
and looking so firm and lasting that birds, we thought, might build
their nests amid their downy bosses; the black-browed storm-clouds
marching in awful grandeur across the landscape, trailing broad gray
sheets of hail and rain like vast cataracts, and ever and anon
flashing down vivid zigzag lightning followed by terrible crashing
thunder. We saw several trees shattered, and one of them, a punky old
oak, was set on fire, while we wondered why all the trees and
everybody and everything did not share the same fate, for oftentimes
the whole