288 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. 



Clji? Wnl ijjrtiBli. 



VERY forest, almost, in the latitude of 

 New York, from the first of May 

 to some time in the autumn, is in- 

 habited by the wood thrush. I wonder 

 if you boys and girls have ever heard 

 his song. There is scarcely a greater singer 

 in our woods. Oh how much I enjoyed the 

 music of one last summer, in a forest near 

 Saratoga Springs! The little fellow did not 

 see me, I think. At all events, he allowed 

 me to come within a few feet of the tree on 

 which he was sitting; and for a long time I 

 stood under the tree, listening to his sweet 

 strains. I suppose he had a nest in that vi- 

 cinity, and was singing for his mate, while she 

 kept house. I did not see the nest, however, 

 though I looked for it a great while, after the 

 music was finished and the singer had flown 



