II. 



THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 



WHEN from some deep, secluded wood you 

 hear the rich, flute-like notes of a " bird in the 

 solitude singing," turn instantly from the path, 

 follow in silence that enticing voice, and you 

 may at last come near the mysterious songster. 

 If, happily, you are able to locate sound, you 

 may be further charmed by sight of him, glow- 

 ing with musical ardor; but if not, you may 

 search the woods vainly, so motionless is he, and 

 so completely do the soft tints of his plumage 

 harmonize in coloring with the branch upon 

 which he stands. He is worthy this careful fol- 

 lowing : he is the most beautiful, the finest in 

 song, and the noblest in character of the winged 

 order in America. He is the wood thrush. 



Sometimes, when you thus come upon him, 

 you will find madam his spouse upon a lower 

 branch of the same tree. She will not fly; 

 wild panic is not in the thrush. She will stand 

 and look at you, expressing her disapproval by 



