LYKISTS OF A SUBURB. 83 



and having a narrow frontlet of black. When 

 once you have seen him there is no other bird for 

 which you will mistake him. He is a real cox- 

 comb, though a pleasant and agreeable one, differ- 

 ing in that respect from human dandies. Then he 

 has quite a variety of notes and phrases in which 

 to express his thoughts ; but the most stirring of 

 them is his clarion call in early spring ; for it seems 

 as if he were trying to rouse the grass and flowers 

 and insects from their winter slumbers; and he 

 will succeed, too, by and by. 



There are several interesting migrants that may 

 be studied in these suburbs. One bright, sunshiny 

 day in April, as I sat writing in my study, my ear 

 caught the clear, continuous, and rather pensive 

 notes of a bird's song. In an instant I had sprung 

 from my chair, seized my opera glass, and rushed 

 out into the front yard. With pulses throbbing, I 

 looked up into the maple-tree whence the song 

 came, and saw a beautiful bird perched on a twig. 

 It was a white-crowned sparrow. I could scarcely 

 repress a cry of delight, for the moment a bird- 

 lover discovers a new specimen, or hears a new 

 song, he has a sensation of rare and exciting joy. 

 The bird itself was not new to me ; for I had seen it 

 at least twice in Northern Indiana where I had 



