PURE ECSTASY. 63 



ing as he goes, thence takes his way to a roof, 

 and so on, changing his place every few min- 

 utes, but never losing a note. His favorite 

 perch is the top spire of a pointed tree, low 

 cedar or young pine, where he can bound into 

 the air as already described, spread his wings, 

 and float down, never omitting a quaver. It 

 seems like pure ecstasy; and however critical 

 one may be, he cannot help feeling deep sym- 

 pathy with the joyous soul that thus expresses 

 itself. With all the wonderful power and va- 

 riety, the bewitching charm, there is not the 

 " feeling," the heavenly melody, of the wood- 

 thrush. As an imitator, I think he is much 

 overrated. I cannot agree with Lanier that 



" Whatever birds did or dreamed, this bird could say ; " 



and that the birds are jealous of his song, as 

 Wilson says, seems absurd. On the con- 

 trary, I do not think they recognize the coun- 

 terfeit. The tufted titmouse called as loudly 

 and constantly all day as though no mocking- 

 bird shouted his peculiar and easily imitated 

 call from the house-top ; the cardinal grosbeak 

 sang every day in the grove, though the mocker 

 copied him more closely than any other bird. 

 He repeats the notes, rattles out the call, but 

 he cannot put the cardinal's soul into them. 

 The song of every bird seems to me the expres- 



