The following spring was glorious. How we enjoyed living in the country! The wood was filled with bluebells and primroses and all the lovely flowers of springtime. As the nights began to feel warmer I had a sudden longing to go out into the woods surrounding the garden and play my cello and gaze on the beauty of it all as the moon peeped out through the trees. I sat on an old seat which surrounded an ivy-clad tree. I began to play, very lazily, all the melodies I loved best and to improvise on them. I began the 'Chant hindou' by Rimsky-Korsakov and after playing for some time I stopped. Suddenly a glorious note echoed the notes of the cello. I then thrilled up and down the instrument, up to the top and down again: the voice of the bird followed me in thirds! I had never heard such a bird’s song before- to me it seemed a miracle. The sound did not appear to come from the high treetops but from nearer the ground; I could not see, I just played on and on. << less