a nearer bird who understands exactly the part he is to play in the
fugue. And so it passes on from the one to the other, growing fainter
and fainter in the distance as Shanghai sings to Bantam and Chittagong
to Brahmapootra, until, at last, there is silence; and then, "O hark!
O hear! How thin and clear!" far, far away some rooster sends out a
delicate falsetto note that might have come from a microscopic cock
who is practicing ventriloquism in the cellar. Instantly the catarrhal
chicken in the next yard begins the refrain again with his hoarse
voice; and then again and again the fugue goes round, never tiring the
listener, but always growing more musical, until the sun is fairly up,
the hens awake and the scratching of the day is ready to begin.

The note of the cock has been misrepresented. Shakespeare, following
usage, perhaps, has given it as "cock-a-doodle-doo," and that is the
accepted interpretation of it. But this does not convey the proper
impression. We should say that if human syllables can tell the story
they would assume some such form as:

_Ooauk-auk-auk-au-au-au-auk_!

It is a song that ought to be studied and glorified in print. Think
what a history it has! That identical combination of sounds which
wakes and maddens the sleeping citizen of to-day was heard by Noah and
his family with precisely the same cadence and accent in the ark. It
was that very crow that Peter heard when he had denied his Master. It
is a crow that has come down to us from Eden almost without a moment's
intermission. It is a crow which has passed round the world century
after century, and now passes, as the herald of the coming of the sun.
It may yet be made the theme of a majestic musical composition, now
that Wagner has come to teach men how to build a lyric drama upon