"Hush!" said Spalding, "we are trespassing upon fairy
domain; the spirits of these old woods, these mountains and
rock-bound lakes, are abroad, and well may they carol in
their joyousness in a night like this."
In a little while the music changed, and
"Come o'er the moonlight sea"
came swelling over the lake. And again it changed and
"Come mariner down in the deep with me"
went gently and swiftly abroad on the air. The music
ceased for a moment, and then two manly voices, of great
depth and power, came floating to our ears to the words:
"'Farewell! Farewell! To thee, Araby's daughter,'
Thus warbled a Perl, beneath the deep sea,
'No pearl ever lay under Onan's dark water,
More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee.'"
"That's flesh and blood, at least," exclaimed the Doctor, "and I
propose to ascertain who are treating as to this charming serenade in
the stillness of midnight."
We went down to the margin of the lake, and a few rods from the shore
lay a little craft like our own, in which were seated two gentlemen,
the one with a flute and the other with a violin. They had seen our
campfire from their shanty on the other side of the lake, and had
crossed over to surprise us with the melody of human music. And
pleasantly indeed it sounded in the stillness and repose of that
summer night in that wild region.
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