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warble of the meadow-lark; while high above 

 the pastures float the mellow strains of the 

 bobolink. The wood-thrushes are early and 

 welcome arrivals. I wish they might remedy 

 the disagreeable crack in their notes which they 

 seem to have caught from the grackle, the ter- 

 mination of the second bar frequently sound- 

 ing like a snapped bowstring. Otherwise the 

 notes would be very liquid, and, at a distance, 

 might almost pass for those of the hermit. The 

 Baltimore orioles have brought with them their 

 orange-scarlet plumage, and still another new 

 note which they will change from time to time. 

 Year before last it was more sustained, and quite 

 as plain as if one pronounced it, " Pretty, pretty 

 bird ! " 



The same cat-bird I am sure it is the self- 

 same demon has taken up his perch in the 

 maple close to my sleeping-room, precisely as 

 he has done for two years past. Nothing could 

 be more delightful than his opening matin song, 

 begun in a dulcet undertone, did I not know 

 from experience his long-drawn crescendo and 

 the frenzy of the finale a perfect Hungarian 

 " Czardas " ! Pelting him with stones, a pile of 

 which I keep within reach, stops him, as it does 

 my morning nap. But he returns persistently to 

 his chosen tree. I shall turn the garden- hose 



