26 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 



chard adjoining a wood, I heard one that so obviously 

 and unmistakably surpassed all his rivals, that my 

 companion, though slow to notice such things, re- 

 marked it wonderingly ; and with one accord we paused 

 to listen to so rare a performer. It was not different 

 in quality so much as in quantity. Such a flood of it ! 

 Such copiousness ! Such long, trilling, accelerating 

 preludes ! Such sudden, ecstatic overtures, would have 

 intoxicated the dullest ear. He was really without a 

 compeer — a master-artist. Twice afterward I was 

 conscious of having heard the same bird. 



The wood-thrush is the handsomest species of this 

 family. In grace and elegance of manner he has no 

 equal. Such a gentle, high-bred air, and such inim- 

 itable ease and composure in his flight and movement ! 

 He is a poet in very word and deed. His carriage is 

 music to the eye. His performance of the commonest 

 act, as catching a beetle, or picking a worm from the 

 mud, pleases like a stroke of wit or eloquence. Was 

 he a prince in the olden time, and do the regal grace 

 and mien still adhere to him in his transformation ? 

 What a finely proportioned form! How plain, yet rich 

 his color, — the bright russet of his back, the clear 

 white of his breast, with the distinct heart-shaped 

 spots ! It may be objected to Robin that he is noisy 

 and demonstrative ; he hurries away or rises to a 

 branch with an angry note, and flirts his wings in ill- 

 bred suspicion. The mavis, or red-thrush, sneaks 

 and skulks like a culprit, hiding in the densest alders ; 



