es 
ON BOSTON COMMON. ‘ 
ings of their course dive hurriedly into the near- 
est tree. It was a mistake their stopping here 
in the first place; but once here, there is noth- 
ing for it save to put up with the discomforts of 
the situation till after sunset, Then, please 
heaven, they will be off, praying never to find 
themselves again in such a Babel. 
That most of our smaller birds migrate by 
night is by this time too well established to 
need corroboration ; but if the student wishes 
to assure himself of the fact at first hand, he 
may easily do it by one or two seasons’ observa- 
tions in our Common, — or, I suppose, in any 
like inclosure. And if he be blest with an or- 
nithologically educated ear, he may still further 
confirm his faith by standing on Beacon Hill in 
the evening —as I myself have often done — 
and listening to the chips of warblers, or the 
tseeps of sparrows, as these little wanderers, 
hour after hour, pass through the darkness over 
the city. Why the birds follow this plan, what 
advantages they gain or what perils they avoid 
by making their flight nocturnal, is a question 
with which our inquisitive friend will perhaps 
find greater difficulty. I should be glad, for 
one, to hear his explanation. 
As a rule, our visitors tarry with us for two or 
three days; at least I have noticed that to be 
true in many cases where their numbers, or size, 
