PHILLIDA AND CORIDON. 119 



it, this another can conjecture as well as my- 

 self. I know no more than old Kaspar : 



" ' Why, that I cannot tell,' said he, 

 * But 't was a famous rictory.' " 



As I turned to come away, the contest all at 

 once ceased, and the silence of the woods, or 

 what seemed like silence, was really impressive. 

 The chewinks and field sparrows were singing, 

 but it was like the music of a village singer 

 after Patti ; or, to make the comparison less 

 unjust, like the Pastoral Symphony of Handel 

 after a Wagner tempest. 



It is curious how deeply we #re sometimes 

 affected by a very trifling occurrence. I have 

 remembered many times a slight scene in which 

 three purple finches were the actors. Of the 

 two males, one was in full adult plumage of 

 bright crimson, while the other still wore his 

 youthful suit of brown. First, the older bird 

 suspended himself in mid air, and sang most 

 beautifully ; dropping, as he concluded, to a 

 perch beside the female. Then the younger 

 candidate, who was already sitting near by, 

 took his turn, singing nearly or quite as well 

 as his rival, but without quitting the branch, 

 though his wings quivered. I saw no more. 

 Yet, as I say, I have often since thought of the 

 three birds, and wondered whether the bright 

 feathers and the flying song carried the day 



