The Song Of The Cardinal
contributor: Eric Lease Morgan (Infomotions, Inc.)
creator: Stratton-Porter, Gene
date: 0000-00-00
extent: 145912
format: text/plain
language: en
publisher: Wiretap Electronic Text Archive
rights: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/GPL/2.0/
source: cardinal.gsp
subject: cardinal
subject: river
subject: abram
subject: bird
subject: time
subject: indicated
subject: public
subject: domain
subject: stratton
subject: porter
subject: gene
subject: song
subject: american
subject: literature
type: text
local mirror: stratton-song-406.txt
concordance: http://infomotions.com/alex/cgi-bin/concordance.pl
plain html: stratton-song-406.htm
sort title: Song Of The Cardinal, The
full text: THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL, by GENE STRATTON-PORTER. Digitized by Cardinalis Etext Press, C.E.K. Posted to Wiretap in July 1993, as cardinal.gsp. Italics are indicated as _italics_. This text is in the PUBLIC DOMAIN. The Song of the Cardinal Gene Stratton-Porter Grosset & Dunlap New York Copyright 1903, 1906, 1915 by Doubleday, Page & Company Printed in the United States of America IN LOVING TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER MARK STRATTON "For him every work of God manifested a new and heretofore unappreciated loveliness." Chapter 1 "Good cheer! Good cheer!" exulted the Cardinal HE DARTED through the orange orchard searching for slugs for his breakfast, and between whiles he rocked on the branches and rang over his message of encouragement to men. The song of the Cardinal was overflowing with joy, for this was his holiday, his playtime. The southern world was filled with brilliant sunshine, gaudy flowers, an abundance of fruit, myriads of insects, and never a thing to do except to bathe, feast, and be happy. No wonder his song was a prophecy of good cheer for the future, for happiness made up the whole of his past. The Cardinal was only a yearling, yet his crest flared high, his beard was crisp and black, and he was a very prodigy in size and colouring. Fathers of his family that had accomplished many migrations appeared small beside him, and coats that had been shed season after season seemed dull compared with his. It was as if a pulsing heart of flame passed by when he came winging through the orchard. Last season the Cardinal had pipped his shell, away to the north, in that paradise of the birds, the Limberlost. There thousands of acres of black marsh-muck stretch under summers' sun and winters' snows. There are darksome pools of murky water, bits of swale, and high morass. Giants of the forest reach skyward, or, coated with velvet slime, lie decaying in sun-flecked pools, while the underbrush is almost impenetrable. The swamp resembles a big dining-table for the…