BIRD IJFE, ETC. 159 



I have elsewhere seen, when the glorious sun is drawing 

 towards the horizon, and shedding a broad glare of ruddy 

 light over the smooth surface of the ocean ; when the 

 scattered sheep, accompanied by their frolicsome lamb- 

 kins, are quietly browsing on the hills ; when the 

 broad-winged eagle is seen skimming along the mountain 

 ridge, as he wends his way toward his eyry on the far 

 promontory ; when no sound comes on the ear save at 

 intervals the faint murmur of the waves rushing into the 

 caverns and rising against the faces of the cliffs ; when 

 the western breeze, stealing over the flowery pastures, 

 carries with it the perfume of the wild thyme and white 

 clover ; the song of the thrush is poured forth from the 

 summit of some granite block, shaggy with grey lichens, 

 and returns in softer and sweeter modulations from the 

 sides of the heathy mountains. There may be wilder, 

 louder, and more marvellous songs, and the mocking 

 bird may be singing the requiem of the Red Indian of 

 the Ohio, or cheering the heart of his ruthless oppressor, 

 the white man of many inventions ; but to me it is 

 all-sufficient, for it enters into the soul, melts the heart 

 into tenderness, diffuses a holy calm, and connects the 

 peace of earth with the transcendent happiness of heaven. 

 In other places the song of the thrush may be lively and 

 cheery ; here, in the ocean-girt solitude, it is gentle and 

 soothing ; by its magic influence it smoothes the ruffled 

 surface of the sea of human feelings, as it floats over it 

 at intervals with its varied swells and cadences, like the 

 perfumed wavelets of the summer wind. — British Birds, 

 vol. ii. pp. 130, 131. 



