daylight and dark. Still we had our labor for our pains. And so the season passed, with nothing done.
Then, a year or two afterward, walking one afternoon in a quiet back road, I startled a woodcock from directly beside the track. "Well, well," said I, "here is the very place;" for I noticed not far off a bit of alder swamp, with a wood behind it and an open field near by. All the conditions were right, and on the first available evening, with something like assurance, I made my way thither. Yes, the bird was there, in the full ecstasy of his wonderful performance—for wonderful it surely is.
My friend was not with me, however, and for one reason or another, now past recall, another year went by without our being able to visit the spot together at the necessary minute. Then a day came. He heard the bird (well I remember the hour), was delighted beyond measure, and that very evening, still under the spell of the "miracle," put his impressions of it on paper. The next day they were printed, and I remember still my pleasure when the most competent
