cxxii LIFEOFWILSON. 



are full of them ! red, orange, blue, and most every color. 0, 1 can gather you 

 a whole parcel of them, much handsomer than these, all growing in our own 

 woods' Shall I, 'ma? Shall I go and bring you more?' The good woman 

 received the bunch of flowers with a smile of afi'ectionate complacency ; and 

 after admiring for some time the beautiful simplicity of nature, gave her wil- 

 ling consent ; and the little fellow wont ofi", on the wings of ecstasy, to execute 

 his delightful commission. 



"The similitude of this little boy's enthusiasm to my own, struck me; and 

 the reader will need no explanations of mine to make the application. Should 

 my country receive with the same gracious indulgence the specimens which I 

 here humbly present her; should she express a desire for me to go and hring 

 her more, the highest wishes of my ambition will be gratified; for, in the language 

 of my little friend, our whole woods are full of them ! and I can collect hun- 

 dreds more, much handsomer than these." 



In a work abounding with so many excellencies, it would not be difficult to 

 point out passages of merit, any one of which would give the author a just 

 claim to the title of a describer of no ordinary powers. 



We select the following description, from the history of the Wood Thrush : 

 " At whatever time the wood thru.sh may arrive, he soon announces his presence 

 in the woods. With the dawn of the succeeding morning, mounting to the 

 top of some tall tree, that rises from a low thick-shaded part of the woods, he 

 pipes his few, but clear and musical, notes in a kind of ecstasy ; the prelude 

 or symphony to which strongly resembles the double-tongueiu'g of a German 

 flute, and sometimes the tinkling of a small bell. The whole song consists of 

 five or six parts, the last note of each of which is in such a tone, as to leave 

 the conclusion evidently suspended; the finale is finely managed, and with 

 such charming eflfect, as to soothe and tranquillize the mind, and to seem 

 sweeter and mellower at each successive repetition. Rival songsters, of the 

 same species, challenge each other from different parts of the wood, seeming to 

 vie for softer tones, and more exquisite responses. During the burning heat 

 of the day they are comparatively mute ; but in the evening the same melody 

 is renewed, and continued long after sunset. Even in dark, wet and gloomy 

 weather, when scarce a single chirp is heard from any other bird, the clear 

 notes of the wood thrush thrill through the dropping woods, from morning to 

 night; and it may truly be said that the sadder the day the sweeter is his 

 song." 



Perhaps my admiration of this passage may be dependent, in some measure, 

 upon the association of ideas, having been accustomed to frequent the favorite 

 haunts of this exquisite musician, which are " low thick-shaded hollows, 

 through which a small brook or rill meandei's, overhung with alder bushes that 

 arc mantled with vines." But I can truly declare that I could never read it 

 in an audible voice, the intenseness of my feelings always overpowering me. 



He thus delightfully introduces his history of the Barn Swallow : " There 

 are but few persons in the United States unacquainted with this gay, innocent, 

 and active little bird. Indeed the whole tribe are so distinguished from the 

 rest of small birds by their sweeping rapidity of flight, their peculiar aerial 

 evolutioai of wing over our fields and rivers, and through our very streets. 



