A MONTH'S MUSIC. 287 



tion which might have driven a timid suitor 

 desperate. He posed before her, puffing out his 

 feathers, spreading his tail, and crying hysteri- 

 cally, Yip, yip, yaah, the last note a down- 

 right whine or snarl, worthy of the cat-bird. 

 Poor soul ! he was well-nigh beside himself, and 

 could not take no for an answer, even when the 

 word was emphasized with an ugly dab of his 

 beloved's beak. The pair shortly disappeared 

 in the swamp, and I was not privileged to wit- 

 ness the upshot of the battle ; but I consoled 

 myself with believing that Phyllis knew how 

 far she could prudently carry her resistance, 

 and would have the discretion to yield before 

 her adorer's heart was irremediably broken. 



In this instance there was no misconceiv- 

 ing the meaning of the action ; but whoever 

 watches birds in the pairing season is often at 

 his wit's end to know what to make of their 

 demonstrations. One morning a linnet chased 

 another past me down the road, flying at the 

 very top of his speed, and singing as he flew; 

 not, to be sure, the full and copious warble such 

 as is heard when the bird hovers, but still a 

 lively tune. I looked on in astonishment. It 

 seemed incredible that any creature could sing 

 while putting forth such tremendous muscular 

 exertions ; and yet, as if to show that this was 

 a mere nothing to him, the finch had no sooner 



