114 THE ANTHEM OF MORN. 



makes a pause, the whole multitude succeed one another 

 with such rapidity that we hear an uninterrupted flow 

 of music until the broad light of day invites them to 

 other employments. 



When there is just light enough to distinguish the birds, 

 we may observe, here and there, a single swallow perched 

 on the roof of a barn or shed, repeating two twittering notes 

 incessantly, with a quick turn and a hop at every note 

 he utters. It would seem to be the design of the bird 

 to attract the attention of his mate, and this motion 

 seems to be made to assist her in discovering his position. 

 As soon as the light has tempted him to fly abroad, 

 this twittering strain is uttered more like a continued 

 song, as he flits rapidly through the air. But at this later 

 moment the purple martins have commenced their more 

 melodious chattering, so loudly as to attract for a while 

 the most of our attention. There is not a sound in nature 

 so cheering and animating as the song of the purple mar- 

 tin, and none so well calculated to drive away melancholy. 

 Though not one of the earliest voices to be heard, the 

 chorus is perceptibly more loud and effective when this 

 bird has united with the choir. 



When the flush of morning has brightened into vermil- 

 ion, and the place from which the sun is soon to emerge 

 has attained a dazzling brilliancy, the robins are already 

 less tuneful. They are now becoming busy in collecting 

 food for* their morning repast, and one by one they leave 

 the trees, and may be seen hopping upon the tilled 

 ground, in quest of the worms and insects that have crept 

 out during the night from their subterranean retreats. 

 But as the robins grow silent, the bobolinks begin their 

 vocal revelries; and to a fanciful mind it might seem 

 that the robins had gradually resigned their part in 

 the performance to the bobolinks, not one of which is 

 heard until some of the former have concluded their 



