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<h2> CHAPTER XXXI. Voices of the Dusk. </h2>
<p>Jolly, round, red Mr. Sun was just going to bed behind the Purple Hills
and the Black Shadows had begun to creep all through the Green Forest and
out across the Green Meadows. It was the hour of the day Peter Rabbit
loves best. He sat on the edge of the Green Forest watching for the first
little star to twinkle high up in the sky. Peter felt at peace with all
the Great World, for it was the hour of peace, the hour of rest for those
who had been busy all through the shining day.</p>
<p>Most of Peter's feathered friends had settled themselves for the coming
night, the worries and cares of the day over and forgotten. All the Great
World seemed hushed. In the distance Sweetvoice the Vesper Sparrow was
pouring out his evening song, for it was the hour when he dearly loves to
sing. Far back in the Green Forest Whip-poor-will was calling as if his
very life depended on the number of times he could say, "Whip poor Will,"
without taking a breath. From overhead came now and then the sharp, rather
harsh cry of Boomer the Nighthawk, as he hunted his supper in the air.</p>
<p>For a time it seemed as if these were the only feathered friends still
awake, and Peter couldn't help thinking that those who went so early to
bed missed the most beautiful hour of the whole day. Then, from a tree
just back of him, there poured forth a song so clear, so sweet, so
wonderfully suited to that peaceful hour, that Peter held his breath until
it was finished. He knew that singer and loved him. It was Melody the Wood
Thrush.</p>
<p>When the song ended Peter hopped over to the tree from which it had come.
It was still light enough for him to see the sweet singer. He sat on a
branch near the top, his head thrown back and his soft, full throat
throbbing with the flute-like notes he was pouring forth. He was a little
smaller than Welcome Robin. His coat was a beautiful reddish-brown, not
quite so bright as that of Brownie the Thrasher. Beneath he was white with
large, black spots thickly dotting his breast and sides. He was singing as
if he were trying to put into those beautiful notes all the joy of life.
Listening to it Peter felt steal over him a wonderful feeling of peace and
pure happiness. Not for the world would he have interrupted it.</p>
<p>The Black Shadows crept far across the Green Meadows and it became so
dusky in the Green Forest that Peter could barely make out the sweet
singer above his head. Still Melody sang on and the hush of eventide grew
deeper, as if all the Great World were holding its breath to listen. It
was not until several little stars had begun to twinkle high up in the sky
that Melody stopped singing and sought the safety of his hidden perch for
the night. Peter felt sure that somewhere near was a nest and that one
thing which had made that song so beautiful was the love Melody lad been
trying to express to the little mate sitting on the eggs that nest must
contain. "I'll just run over here early in the morning," thought Peter.</p>
<p>Now Peter is a great hand to stay out all night, and that is just what he
did that night. Just before it was time for jolly, round, red Mr. Sun to
kick off his rosy blankets and begin his daily climb up in the blue, blue
sky, Peter started for home in the dear Old Briar-patch. Everywhere in the
Green Forest, in the Old Orchard, on the Green Meadows, his feathered
friends were awakening. He had quite forgotten his intention to visit
Melody and was reminded of it only when again he heard those beautiful
flute-like notes. At once he scampered over to where he had spent such a
peaceful hour the evening before. Melody saw him at once and dropped down
on the ground for a little gossip while he scratched among the leaves in
search of his breakfast.</p>
<p>"I just love to hear you sing, Melody," cried Peter rather breathlessly.
"I don't know of any other song that makes me feel quite as yours does, so
sort of perfectly contented and free of care and worry."</p>
<p>"Thank you," replied Melody. "I'm glad you like to hear me sing for there
is nothing I like to do better. It is the one way in which I can express
my feelings. I love all the Great World and I just have to tell it so. I
do not mean to boast when I say that all the Thrush family have good
voices."</p>
<p>"But you have the best of all," cried Peter.</p>
<p>Melody shook his brown head. "I wouldn't say that," said he modestly. "I
think the song of my cousin Hermit, is even more beautiful than mine. And
then there is my other cousin, Veery. His song is wonderful, I think."</p>
<p>But just then Peter's curiosity was greater than his interest in songs.
"Have you built your nest yet?" he asked.</p>
<p>Melody nodded. "It is in a little tree not far from here," said he, "and
Mrs. Wood Thrush is sitting on five eggs this blessed minute. Isn't that
perfectly lovely?"</p>
<p>It was Peter's turn to nod. "What is your nest built of?" he inquired.</p>
<p>"Rootlets and tiny twigs and weed stalks and leaves and mud," replied
Melody.</p>
<p>"Mud!" exclaimed Peter. "Why, that's what Welcome Robin uses in his nest."</p>
<p>"Well, Welcome Robin is my own cousin, so I don't know as there's anything
so surprising in that," retorted Melody.</p>
<p>"Oh," said Peter. "I had forgotten that he is a member of the Thrush
family."</p>
<p>"Well, he is, even if he is dressed quite differently from the rest of
us," replied Melody.</p>
<p>"You mentioned your cousin, Hermit. I don't believe I know him," said
Peter.</p>
<p>"Then it's high time you got acquainted with him," replied Melody
promptly. "He is rather fond of being by himself and that is why he is
called the Hermit Thrush. He is smaller than I and his coat is not such a
bright brown. His tail is brighter than his coat. He has a waistcoat
spotted very much like mine. Some folks consider him the most beautiful
singer of the Thrush family. I'm glad you like my song, but you must hear
Hermit sing. I really think there is no song so beautiful in all the Green
Forest."</p>
<p>"Does he build a nest like yours?" asked Peter.</p>
<p>"No," replied Melody. "He builds his nest on the ground, and he doesn't
use any mud. Now if you'll excuse me, Peter, I must get my breakfast and
give Mrs. Wood Thrush a chance to get hers."</p>
<p>So Peter continued on his way to the dear Old Briar-patch and there he
spent the day. As evening approached he decided to go back to hear Melody
sing again. Just as he drew near the Green Forest he heard from the
direction of the Laughing Brook a song that caused him to change his mind
and sent him hurrying in that direction. It was a very different song from
that of Melody the Wood Thrush, yet, if he had never heard it before,
Peter would have known that such a song could come from no throat except
that of a member of the Thrush family. As he drew near the Laughing Brook
the beautiful notes seemed to ring through the Green Forest like a bell.
As Melody's song had filled Peter with a feeling of peace, so this song
stirred in him a feeling of the wonderful mystery of life. There was in it
the very spirit of the Green Forest.</p>
<p>It didn't take Peter long to find the singer. It was Veery, who has been
named Wilson's Thrush; and by some folks is known as the Tawny Thrush.</p>
<p>At the sound of the patter of Peter's feet the song stopped abruptly and
he was greeted with a whistled "Wheeu! wheeu!" Then, seeing that it was no
one of whom he need be afraid, Veery came out from under some ferns to
greet Peter. He was smaller than Melody the Wood Thrush, being about
one-fourth smaller than Welcome Robin. He wore a brown coat but it was not
as bright as that of his cousin, Melody. His breast was somewhat faintly
spotted with brown, and below he was white. His sides were grayish-white
and not spotted like the sides of Melody.</p>
<p>"I heard you singing and I just had to come over to see you," cried Peter.</p>
<p>"I hope you like my song," said Veery. "I love to sing just at this hour
and I love to think that other people like to hear me."</p>
<p>"They do," declared Peter most emphatically. "I can't imagine how anybody
could fail to like to hear you. I came 'way over here just to sit a while
and listen. Won't you sing some more for me, Veery?"</p>
<p>"I certainly will, Peter," replied Veery. "I wouldn't feel that I was
going to bed right if I didn't sing until dark. There is no part of the
day I love better than the evening, and the only way I can express my
happiness and my love of the Green Forest and the joy of just being back
here at home is by singing."</p>
<p>Veery slipped out of sight, and almost at once his bell-like notes began
to ring through the Green Forest. Peter sat right where he was, content to
just listen and feel within himself the joy of being alive and happy in
the beautiful spring season which Veery was expressing so wonderfully. The
Black Shadows grew blacker. One by one the little stars came out and
twinkled down through the tree tops. Finally from deep in the Green Forest
sounded the hunting call of Hooty the Owl. Veery's song stopped. "Good
night, Peter," he called softly.</p>
<p>"Good night, Veery," replied Peter and hopped back towards the Green
Meadows for a feast of sweet clover.</p>
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