AN OCTOBER DIARY. 831 



toned twittering of the grass-plover, clear as the tink- 

 ling of silver bells. Note after note came raining down 

 from the unseen clouds above, and then, as the birds 

 passed over, other notes, falling far out above the meadow, 

 were barely audible to an attentive ear. Of course, the 

 ever-present crows were noisy, often drowning the 

 pleasant voices of dearer birds ; but thrilling it was to 

 hear the honking of bewildered wild-geese, that, having 

 lost their way, now floundered, almost helplessly, in a 

 sea of fog. How I hoped that they would stumble 

 into the meadows that I might give chase! No such 

 good -fortune, however, awaited me. Fainter and 

 fainter were their voices, as they passed westward, tow- 

 ards the river. The Canada geese, at this time, are 

 suggestive of cooler weather soon to come; but better 

 the geese false prophets, and pleasant weather, than 

 the converse, and premature winter. 



To see the robins hurry out in their heels-over-head 

 fashion, if not helpless from over -feeding, I plunged 

 into a dense clump of poke, and away darted a hun- 

 dred of these birds. They, too, were bewildered by the 

 mist, and one, more reckless than the rest, flew directly 

 into my face, so that I caught it. Its astonishment 

 and fright robbed it of its breakfast, which, as a mass 

 of gore, in appearance, was vomited over my breast. I 

 let the bird go and only wished the breakfast had gone 

 with it. 



Passing into the woods, I was struck with the un- 

 usual variety of notes uttered by a company of jays. 

 There were a dozen or more distinct sounds, all jay- 

 like, it is true, but differing widely. I suppose that, as 



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