ments, and it is to be regretted that he 

 favors the bird-loving world so grudg- 

 ingly of this his best number. 



For lack of a better name — (which is 

 in itself sufficient proof of its rarity), we 

 will call it a dropping song. Suddenly 

 launching into the air with his whole 

 soul thrown into his voice, he seems to 

 reach the consummation of earthly bliss. 

 Quivering and fluttering, he floats into 

 an ecstacy of delight, and the rich, bub- 

 bling notes which fairly crowd each 

 other as they fall from the silver-tongued 

 throat, scarcely reach the ground ere 

 followed by the little musician as he 

 "slides down the scale of his own 

 music." 



It is his one grand effort, and for a 

 moment he lies spent and gasping upon 

 the surface — physically exhausted in his 

 attempt to tell the world of the joys of 

 living. 



* * * B u t w hile infatuated with 

 his song and personality, we must not 

 forget that the Mockingbird has objects 



in view other than delighting our ears 

 with his music. He comes north with 

 his sweetheart to found a happy home 

 among us and rear his interesting fam- 

 ily. Many are the ups and downs to 

 overcome, and many are the perils to 

 face in this the unknown country, ere he 

 and his mate have finished their sum- 

 mer's work. Here it is we may find the 

 opportunity to prove to him our appre- 

 ciation of his efforts, and with a neigh- 

 borly spirit repay him with what he most 

 needs and most desires — protection. He 

 needs protection from his natural ene- 

 mies — snakes and cats, but his chief 

 source of trouble comes from the small 

 boy, whose wantonness and cruelty of na- 

 ture has never been understood. 



He is a sturdy pioneer, and if proper- 

 ly encouraged in his ventures to the 

 northland, there should be no reason 

 why his voice may not, within a few 

 years, be commonly heard in the parks 

 and drives about Chicago. 



Isaac E. Hess. 



A WORD. 



You who have strenuous delved, and late and long, 



For smoothest rhyme, or just the phrase preferred, 



Shut up your dictionaries — hear that bird 



Out in your maples ! Free and clear and strong, 



Upwelling from his pulsing breast, his song 



Spontaneous, sweet, to full crescendo stirred 



By love and life ! What charm of art, what word 



Premeditated, so can thrill a throng? 



Shelve your thick tomes — go forth and taste with him 



The essences of sunlight and clear dews, 



Of wealthy winds from violet banks astray ; 



Spurn the worn rut, wing on to starry views, 



Then shalt thou sing, and sing our hearts away ! 



— Lulu Whedon Mitchell. 



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