Everything seemed at rest and silent. We paused a while in a part of the forest in which we had seen some strange phases of bird life, and had christened the "Bewitched Corner." A gentle breeze set all the leaves to fluttering; far off a woodpecker drummed his salute to his fellows; beyond the trees we could hear the indigo bird singing; but nothing about us was stirring. The wood-pewee was unheard, and even the vireo seemed to have finished his endless song and gone his way.
We passed on a few rods to a favorite resting place of our daily rounds, where my comrade always liked to stretch herself upon the big bole of a fallen tree in the broad sunshine, and I to seat myself at the foot of another tree in the shade. It was a spot
"where hours went their way As softly as sweet dreams go down the night."
As we approached this place a sound reached us that struck us dumb; it was a hermit thrush not far off. Silently we stole up the gentle hill and seated ourselves.
"At last! at last!" I cried in my heart, as I leaned back against my tree to listen.
Then the glorious anthem began again; it rose and swelled upon the air; it filled the woods,--
"And up by mystical chords of song The soul was lifted from care and pain."
Though not in sight, the bird was quite near, so that we heard every note, so enchanting! so inimitable! For ten or fifteen minutes he poured out the melody, while our hearts fairly stood still. Then he stopped, and we heard the thrush "chuck" and the hermit call, which is different from other thrushes, being something between a squawk and a mew. Whether this were his conversation with his mate we could only guess, for we dared not move, hardly indeed to breathe.
After a pause the bird began again, and for one perfect hour we sat there motionless, entranced, and took our fill of his matchless rhapsody. I longed inexpressibly to see the enchanter, though I dared not stir for fear of startling him. Perhaps my urgent desire drew him; at any rate he came at last within sight, stood a few minutes on the low branch of a tree and looked at me, lifting and dropping his expressive tail as he did so. Two or three low, rich notes bubbled out, as if he had half a mind to sing to me; but he thought better of it and dived off the branch into the bushes. We rose to go.
"This only was lacking," I said. "This crowns my summer. I ask no more, and tomorrow I go."