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so immeasurably withdrawn into the sky among the stars.
A yellow-billed cuckoo called from the thicket, then, indignant at receiving no answer, sprung his rattle and waited. Roused out of his first slumber a white-throat gave a faint "tseep" of surprise, then trembled into music for a moment and went to sleep again. "Hap—pi—ness, hap-pi-ness, happiness," he sang, the notes slipping away into infinite distance and blending with the perfect quiet of the night and the sky. It was the very spirit of the place speaking and reminding me again of the gentle writer who sang so clearly of the peace and beauty of the Chocorua woods and who now sleeps, after singing.
