118 PHILLIDA e” CORIDON. 
sic, one strain of the hermit thrush is to my 
mind worth the whole of it; just as a single 
movement of Beethoven’s is better than a world 
of Liszt transcriptions. But in its own way it 
is unsurpassable. 
Still, though this is a meagre and quite un- 
exaggerated account of the ordinary song of the 
brown thrush, I have discovered that even he 
can be outdone — by himself. One morning 
in early May I came upon three birds of this 
species, all singing at once, in a kind of jealous 
frenzy. As they sang they continually shifted 
from tree to tree, and one in particular (the 
one nearest to where I stood) could hardly be 
quiet a moment. Once he sang with full power 
while on the ground (or close to it, for he was 
just then behind a low bush), after which he 
mounted to the very tip of a tall pine, which 
bent beneath his weight. In the midst of the 
hurly-burly one of the trio suddenly sounded 
the whip-poor-will’s call twice, — an absolutely 
perfect reproduction.} 
The significance of all this sound and fury, 
— what the prize was, if any, and who obtained 
1 ‘¢ That’s the wise thrush: he sings each song twice over, 
Lest you should think he never coald recapture 
The first fine careless rapture! ”’ 
The ‘‘authorities’’ long since forbade Harporhynchus rufus to 
play the mimic. Probably in the excitement of the moment this 
fellow forgot himself. 
