220 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



nets again there I descried some smallish 

 bird in one of the topmost branches of a 

 tall old poplar across the field. My opera- 

 glass brought him nearer, but still not near 

 enough, till presently he turned and took 

 an attitude. " Ah, yes," said I ; " a purple 

 finch." Attitude and gait, though there 

 may be nothing definable about them, are 

 often almost as good as color and feature 

 for purposes of identification. I had barely 

 named the bird before he commenced sing- 

 ing, and as he moved into a slightly better 

 light (the sky being clouded) I saw that he 

 was a red one. He seemed to be not yet 

 in full voice ; perhaps he was not in full 

 spirits ; but he ran through with his long, 

 rapid, intricate, sweetly modulated warble 

 with perfect fluency, and very much to my 

 pleasure. It was the first song of spring. 

 The linnet is of the true way of thinking ; 

 spring, with him, begins with the turn of the 

 month. 



Purple finches, by the bye, are among the 

 birds of which it has been said by Minot, 

 and perhaps by others that both sexes sing. 

 I hope the statement is true ; I could never 



