156 FLORIDA 



and have sung literally in chorus. I have seen 

 many yellow-throated warblers also, and many 

 myrtles, with a fair sprinkling of prairies and 

 black-and-white creepers. But the birds that 

 have sung best after the mocker and the 

 thrasher, perhaps are not spring comers, but 

 our faithful winter friends, the cardinal grosbeak 

 and the Carolina wren. Indeed, of all Southern 

 songsters I believe that the cardinal stands first 

 in my affections. Sweetness, tenderness, affec- 

 tionateness, and variety, these are his gifts, and 

 they are good ones, even if they are not the 

 highest. 



Out in the flatwoods, a few days ago, we sud- 

 denly heard, coming from a thicket of dwarf pal- 

 metto on the edge of water, a quite unexpected 

 strain, a loud, short trill. ."What was that?" 

 asked my companions, as we looked at one an- 

 other ; for there were three pairs of field-glasses 

 in the carriage. " It sounded like a swamp spar- 

 row," said I, with doubt in my voice. At that 

 moment the measure was given out again, pre- 

 faced this time by a peculiar indrawn whistle. 

 Then the truth flashed upon me. It was the song 

 of a pine-wood sparrow. I had not heard it for 

 many years. In the same place meadow larks 

 were in tune, bluebirds warbled, and pine war- 

 blers and brown-headed nuthatches were in voice 



