VOICES OF BIRDS. 183 



April these stragglers unite, form a small company, and 

 take their flight. 



Rural sounds, the voices, the language of the wild 

 creatures, as heard by the naturalist, belong to, and are 

 in concord with the country only. Our sight, our smell, 

 may perhaps be deceived for an interval by conserva- 

 tories, horticultural arts, and bowers of sweets ; but our 

 hearing can in no way be beguiled by any semblance 

 of what is heard in the grove or the field. The hum, 

 the murmur, the medley of the mead, is peculiarly its 

 own, admits of no imitation, and the voices of our birds 

 convey particular intimation, and distinctly rlotify the 

 various periods of the year, with an accuracy as cer- 

 tain as they are detailed in our calendars. The season 

 of spring is always announced as approaching by the 

 notes of the rookery, by the jangle or wooing accents 

 of the dark frequenters of its trees ; and that time hav- 

 ing passed away, these contentions and cadences are no 

 longer heard. The cuckoo then comes, and informs us 

 that spring has arrived ; that he has journeyed to us, borne 

 by gentle gales in sunny days ; that fragrant flowers 

 are in the copse and the mead, and all things telling of 

 gratulation and of joy : the children mark this well- 

 known sound, spring out, and cuckoo! cuckoo! as they 

 gambol down the lane : the very plow-boy bids him 

 welcome in the early morn. It is hardly spring without 

 the cuckoo's song$ and having told his tale, he has 

 voice for no more is silent or away. Then comes the 

 dark, swift-winged marten, glancing through the air, 

 that seems afraid to visit our uncertain clime : he comes, 

 though late, and hurries through his business here, 

 eager again to depart, all day long in agitation and pre"- 

 cipitate flight. The bland zephyrs of the spring have 

 no charms with them; but basking and careering in 

 the sultry gleams of June and July, they associate in 

 throngs, and, screaming, dash round the steeple or the 

 ruined tower, to serenade their nesting mates; and 

 glare and heat are in their train. When the fervor of 

 summer ceases, this bird of the sun will depart. The 

 evening robin from the summit of some leafless bough, 

 or projecting point, tells us that autumn is come, and 





