said; "listen."

Again it came, more plaintive than before; once more, in an almost
agonized tone; and so it continued, ever growing higher in pitch and
more mournful, till we could hardly endure to listen to it. Then arose
the matchless song, the very breath of the woods, the solemn,
mysterious, wonderful song of the bird, and two listeners, at least,
lingered in ecstasy to hear, till it dropped to silence again.

Then, slowly and leisurely, we went on. The dead hemlock, the throne of
the hermit, was vacant. On a bank not far off we sat down to wait,
talking in hushed tones of the veery, of the oven-bird whose rattling
call was now just beginning, of the mysterious "see-here" bird whose
plaintive call was sounding from the upper twig of another dead-topped
tree, of the hermit himself, when, to our amazement, a small bird soared
out of the woods, a few feet above our heads, flew around in a circle of
perhaps fifteen feet in the air, and plunged again into the trees,
singing all the time a rapturous, thrilling song, bewitching both in
manner and in tone.

"The oven-bird!" we exclaimed in a breath. That made our walk
noteworthy. We should not regret, even if the hermit refused to bless
us.

Silently on up the road we passed, till the deepening shadows reminded
us of the hour and the long drive before my friend, and we turned back.
By this time the sun had set, and the sky was filled with gorgeous rosy
clouds floating above the richest red-purple of the mountains. This
surely crowned our walk.

We were sauntering homeward, lingering, waiting, we hardly knew for
what, since we had given up the hermit, when a single bird note arrested
me. Then, as his first rich clause fell upon the air, I turned to my
companion, who was a few steps behind me. She stood motionless, both
hands raised, but dumb.

"Glorious!" she whispered when she recovered her voice. "Wonderful!" she
added, as he warmed into fuller song.

Quietly drawing as near as we dared, we dropped upon the bank and
listened in spellbound silence to our unseen melodist. Slow, rapturous,
entrancing was his song; and when it ended we came reluctantly back to
earth, stole in the growing darkness down to the farm, and my friend
resumed her place in the carriage and drove away, saying with her
good-by, "I am already paid for my long journey."

[Illustration: SINGING HIS WAY DOWN TO US--THE HERMIT THRUSH]

[Sidenote: _STUDY OF THE HERMIT'S SONG._]

Yet after the f