Beyond the Hills [pp. 135]

BEYOND THE HILLS.
It was at nightfall, and I was at my
grandmother's in the valley. The dusk
was fast wrapping the hills and settling
down over the June fields. A golden
glow lingered in the west, and shone
through the tree-tops. All sounds repeated themselves with startling distinctness. In the silence, some bovine from
beyond the hills set up his deep roar, and
in a minute the shadowy, slumbering
valley was alive with it. Beginning with
a deep, heavy thunder, the voice gradually rose higher, swelling out in long,
lingering cadences, curiously half pathetic in character, then vanishing in a
perspective of sound, until they almost
died away,-again rising still higher, and
repeating themselves in breathless succession, weirdly among the hills. I remember that my grandmother was much
impressed also, and readily fell in with
my idea of the immense distance the
sound proceeded from. Her casual remark that the animal might be three or
four miles away made a powerful impression on me, and my imagination started
at once on a journey over the rough hillroad to the wvest, through lonely woods,
past green meadows, by farm-houses and
barns, and through the long, long covered
bridge, which I well remembered, and
which was a wonder of architecture to
me. I do not know how long this mu
sical entertainment lasted, but it was of
the rarest sort, and my literal appreciation of the distance connected with it
fixed it indelibly in my memoe ry.
The peculiarly beautiful song of the
wood-thrushl is well known to lovers of
birds and country scenes. This thriush
is of shy, secluded habit, seldom singing
in open fields. On my way home through
the pastures with the cows one Summer
evening, I probably made my first acquaintance with this rare singer. Hurrying down a steep slope edging deep
woods, where the shadows were already
getting b)lack, a strain of such wild sweetness broke upon my ear as I had never
heard. It was the very soul of simple
pathos filling the twilight woods. It
seemed almost like a human voice, clear,
mlellow, penetrating, exquisitely delicate
in quality. I well remember the ecstasy
of emotion it stirred in me. I forgot my
errand, letting the cows loiter as they
would, and stopped to listen. I was ignorant of the name of the bird, and it
was not until many years after that I
learned to associate that wildwood song
with the thrush. Some noise in the
woods must have startled the singer, for
suddenly as it had broken out, the divine
melody came to an end, and my heart
fairly ached with the passion of regret I
felt. JENNY BURR.
BEYOND THE HILLS.
EYOND the hills where suns go down
And brightly beckon as they go,
I see the land of fair renown,
The land which I so soon shall know.
Above the dissonance of time,
And discord of its angry words,
I hear the everlasting chime,
The music of unjarring chords.
I bid it welcome; and my haste
To join it can not brook delay.
O song of morning, come at last!
And ye who sing it, come away!
O song of light and dawni and bliss,
Sound over earth and fill these skies!
Nor ever, ever, ever cease
Thy soul-entrancing melodies!
Glad song of this disburdclened earth,
Which holy voices then shall sing;
Praise for creation's second birth,
And glory to creation's King!
H. BONAR.
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