August 
quite numerous among the apple-trees and the 
wayside elms and maples, holding a continuous 
high carnival: so brimful of delight that it 
seemed as if they must dissolve in song. ‘Their 
merriment is infectious, and their joy as trans- 
parent as that of a child—the purest in the 
world, for no sorrow is lurking in their hearts. 
Emerson’s words concerning the chickadee can 
with almost equal aptness be addressed to the 
purple finch: 
‘* There is no sorrow in thy song, 
No winter in thy year.”’ 
Although with its silence from fall until spring 
one cannot say of the finch as of the chickadee, 
that it is no respecter of seasons. 
I shall long remember the welcome that one 
of these finches seemed most graciously to give 
me, as it flew to a branch of an apple-tree al- 
most within hand-reach, just after my arrival, 
and began to carol deliciously, as if to say, 
‘¢ Glad to see you, glad to see you, ha, ha, ha! 
hope you'll havea jolly time!’’ After a few 
days the whole flock suddenly ceased singing, 
almost as if by a preconcerted signal. I think 
they must have left the neighborhood, or else 
had received some bad news. — 
235 
