160 BY- WA YS AND BIRD-NO TES. 



a considerable profit from them. He under- 

 stood his business perfectly, going about it 

 with great energy, but evincing no enthusiasm 

 or especial feeling of any kind. 



In the thickly settled States of the West the 

 orchards and hedges are, in spring-time, the 

 abodes of many singing birds. The field-spar- 

 row is chief among these, showing off his ex- 

 quisite vocal gifts about the time that the 

 young wheat is ankle high. His life is mostly 

 spent on the ground where he runs through 

 thick grass or cereal sward with a rapidity like 

 that of the ousel in water. When the lyrical 

 mood comes on he mounts to the top of a 

 stump, a hedge or a fence, and pours forth a very 

 sweet little carol, meantime elevating his head 

 to the full extent of his neck, and puffing out his 

 little throat after the manner of a toad. 



The orioles and some of the warblers have 

 cheerful voices, but can scarcely be called fine 

 singers. They give a dash of freshness to our 

 groves when they arrive early from the South, 

 and, like our blue-bird, are always welcome. 



Speaking of the blue-bird, he is uniquely 

 American. He has no kin on the other con- 

 tinents. He appears to be a flake of the ce- 

 rulean above, let fall, by a special dispensa- 

 tion, upon our favored country. Like some 

 poets, he is always just about to sing, but never 

 does more than begin his song. His frag- 

 ments are divine, however, suggesting a reserve 

 of something too sweet and fine for the com- 

 mon winds to bear. His is a rhythmical na- 

 ture, and his flight is a poem in itself. As he 

 goes trembling and wavering along through 

 the air and sunshine, he adds to a May-day 

 just the touch that makes it perfect. The 



