which come in October, just as the overture gives us faint voicings of
the beauty which the opera is to bring; just as Lowell's organist gives
us

_"The faint auroral flushes sent
Along the wavering vista of his dream."_

The edge of the cliff is lined with shad-trees. Each twig is a plume of
feathery dainty white The drooping racemes of white blossoms, with the
ruby and early-falling bracts among them look like gala decorations to
fringe the way of Flora as she travels up the valley. The shad-trees have
blossomed rather late. In them and under them it is fully spring. There
is a sound of bees and a sense of sweetness which make us forget all the
cold days and think only of the glory of the coming summer. There comes a
song sparrow and perches on one of the twigs. He throws back his little
head, opens his mouth and pours forth a flood of melody. Next comes a
myrtle warbler, eager to show us the yellow on his crown, on his two
sides and the lower part of his back. He is one of the most abundant of
the warblers and one of the most charming and fearless. He perches on a
hop hornbeam tree from which the catkins have just shed their yellow
pollen and goes over it somewhat after the manner of a chickadee or a
nuthatch, showing us as he does so the white under his chin, the two
heavy black marks below that, the two white cross bars on his wings, and
his coat of slate color, striped and streaked with black. He goes over
every twig of the little tree and then flies off to another, first
pausing, however, to give his little call note "tschip, tschip" and then
his little song, "Tschip-tweeter-tweeter." A pair of kingfishers, showing
their blue wings and splendid crests, fly screaming down the creek. Their
nest is in a tunnel four feet in the clay banks on the opposite side.