SEVERAL years ago, while reading in an old number of the Atlantic Monthly an admirable description by Wilson Flagg of the song of the hermit thrush, I came upon the following sentence : “ I have not ...
WHEN from some deep, secluded wood you hear the rich, flute-like notes of a “ bird in the solitude singing,” turn instantly from the path, follow in silence that enticing voice, and you may at last ...
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