Jenn?'ngs*s Ornitholbgia, 34?7 



feathered race are very often accompanied with harsh, mono- 

 tonous, and disagreeable notes." (p. 374.) On the contrary, 

 it would appear from Wilson's admirable descriptions, that 

 the American song-birds are infinitely more numerous than 

 those of Europe, and many of them superior to our most cele- 

 brated songsters. From the first four volumes, alone, we 

 made out a table of no fewer than twenty-two American song- 

 birds, which we may probably insert in a future page. In 

 speaking of the wood thrush (Zurdus mel^dus), Wilson re- 

 marks that it " serenades the woods, with notes as clear as 

 those of the nightingale. Previous naturalists deny it to have 

 any song but a single scream, confounding it with the Turdus 

 minimus of Catesby, and affording the disciples of BufFon an 

 argument for his absurd theory of its being the Turdus miisi- 

 cus of Europe, degenerated by food and climate, and by living 

 in a savage country, where the cries of all birds are harsh and 

 unpleasant ! " [American Ornithology, vol. iii. p. 34.) 



Our author adverts, very briefly, to the great rapidity re- 

 markable in the flight of some species of birds. The most 

 extraordinary fact which has come to our knowledge on the 

 subject, is given on the high authority of our intelligent corre- 

 spondent, Mr. Audubon, respecting the passenger pigeon of 

 America (Columba migrat^ria). He has shot that bird, he 

 says, during his hunting excursions through the forests ; and, 

 on dissection, found its stomach full of fresh rice, which, to 

 have resisted the digestive process, must have been swallowed 

 not many hours preceding its death, but could not have been 

 obtained within 800 miles of the place where it was killed. 



Our notices have been hitherto chiefly taken from the prose 

 portion of the work, but it would be injustice to the author 

 not to give a fair specimen of his poetry, of which the merit is 

 almost as various as the measures. We select 



" The Goldfinch's Song. 



I've a snug little nest Should you pass by in May, 



In a little elm tree ; When our little ones come. 



This nest, I am sure. Look in, and you'll find 



You'll be pleased when you see. - We've a snug little home. 



It is made with much care, No home like that home. 



And is lined so throughout ; Where two bosoms impart 



It is neatness itself. Their finest of sympathies, 



Both within and without : Warm from the heart : 



But a dear little mate. Where Friendship, with Love, 



She with whom I am blest, Is perpetual guest ; 



Is the neatest of all things And Affection's smooth pillow 



In this little nest. A soft heaving breast." 



Page 252, 



