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He told her about his friend, Old Felix, and about the "sassy" blue-jays and the darting kingfisher that nested in the cut-bank where he worked, of the bush-birds that shared his sour-dough bread.
"Then the bush-birds began to sing the song of the morning, and from alders the Robins joined, until all live things were awakened by the great music. Where the tall ferns grew, the Doe waked her Fawns, and taught them to do homage to the Great Light.
I must have gone to sleep, after all, for the sun was shining into the cell when I stirred, and I could see the chains on my ankles that I had worn all these weary weeks. How could I sleep? but I had, for all that. It was daylight; more than that sunrise. I listened, and, sure enough, I heard two or three of the bush-birds calling.
Tired as I was, I shall never forget the beauty and romance of that hour, the delicious crisp new feeling of the morning air; the very roses, growing like a red fringe on the skirts of the great Bush, seemed awaking to fresh life and perfume; the numbers of gay lizards and flies coming out for their morning meal, and, above all, the first awakening of the myriads of Bush-birds; every conceivable twitter and chatter and chirrup; the last cry of a very pretty little owl, called, from its distinctly uttered words, the "More-pork," as it flitted away before the dawn to the highest trees: all made up a jubilant uproar compared to which one of the Crystal Palace choruses is silence.
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