plaint of the Wood-pewee, two widely 

 diverse vocal sounds. With all the 

 performance there is such perfect self- 

 reliance and consciousness of superior 

 ability that one feels that the singer 

 has but to choose what bird he will 

 imitate next." 



Nor does the plaintive, melancholy 

 note of the Robin, that "pious" bird, 

 altogether express his character. He 

 has so many lovely traits, according to 

 his biographers, that we accept him 

 unhesitatingly as a truly good bird. 

 Didn't he once upon a time tenderly 

 cover with leaves certain poor little 

 wanderers? Isn't he called "The Bird 

 of the Morning?" And evening as 

 well, for you can hear his sad voice 

 long after the sun has himself retired. 



The poet Coleridge claims the credit 

 of first using the Owl's cry in poetry, 

 and his musical note Tu-whit, tu-who! 

 has made him a favorite with the 

 poets. Tennyson has fancifully 



played upon it in his little "Songs to 

 the Owl," the last stanza of which 

 runs : 



" I would mock thy chant anew ; 

 Bui I cannot mimic it, 

 Not a whit of thy tuhoo, 

 Thee to woo to thy tuwhit, 

 Thee to woo to thy tuwhit. 



With a lengthen'd loud halloo, 

 Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuhoo-o-o. " 



But Coleridge was not correct in his 

 claim to precedence in the use of the 

 Owl's cry, for Shakespeare preceded 

 him, and Tennyson's "First Song to 

 the Owl" is modeled after that at the 

 end of "Love's L,abor L,ost:" 



" When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl- 

 Then nightly sings the staring Owl, 



Tu-who ; 

 Tu-whit, tu-who, a merry note." 



In references to birds, Tennyson is 

 the most felicitous of all poets and the 

 exquisite swallow-song in " The 

 Princess" is especially recommended 

 to the reader's perusal. 



Birds undoubtedly sing for the same 

 reasons that inspire to utterance all 

 the animated creatures in the universe. 



Insects sing and bees, crickets, locusts, 

 and mosquitos. Frogs sing, and mice, 

 monkeys, and woodchucks. We have 

 recently heard even an English 

 Sparrow do something better than 

 chipper ; some very pretty notes 

 escaped him, perchance, because his 

 heart was overflowing with love- 

 thoughts, and he was very merry, know- 

 ing that his affection was reciprocated. 

 The elevated railway stations, about 

 whose eaves the ugly, hastily built 

 nests protrude everywhere, furnish 

 ample explanation of his reasons for 

 singing. 



Birds are more musical at certain 

 times of the day as well as at certain 

 seasons of the year. During the hour 

 between dawn and sunrise occurs the 

 grand concert of the feathered folk. 

 There are no concerts during the 

 day — only individual songs. After 

 sunset there seems to be an effort to 

 renew the chorus, but it cannot be 

 compared to the morning concert 

 when they are practically undisturbed 

 by man. 



Birds sing because they are happy. 

 Bradford Torrey has given with much 

 felicity his opinion on the subject, as 

 follows : 



"I recall a Cardinal Grosbeak, whom 

 I heard several years ago, on the bank 

 of the Potomac river. An old soldier 

 had taken me to visit the Great Falls, 

 and as we were clambering over the 

 rocks this Grosbeak began to sing; 

 and soon, without any hint from me, 

 and without knowing who the invisible 

 musician was, my companion remarked 

 upon the uncommon beauty of the 

 song. The Cardinal is always a great 

 singer, having a voice which, as 

 European writers say, is almost equal 

 to the Nightingale's ; but in this case 

 the more stirring, martial quality of 

 the strain had given place to an 

 exquisite mellowness, as if it were, 

 what I have no doubt it was, 

 A Song of IyOve." 



— C. C. Marble. 



[to be continued.] 

 188 



