ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 73 



what a rolling, rollicking little song it was, just as 

 full of good cheer as bird song could be ! He 

 continued his vocal rehearsal for many minutes on 

 that day, but afterward he and his fellows were as 

 mute as the inmates of a deaf and dumb asylum. A 

 purple finch once sang here in the fall ; but the 

 music was quite harsh and squeaking, very different 

 from his springtime melody. 



One of the most beautiful birds that have a part 

 in the vernal parade is the rose-breasted grossbeak, 

 — a bird that you will recognize at once by his 

 white-and-black coat and the rosy shield he so 

 bravely bears on his bosom. In his summer home, 

 farther north, I have often heard his vivacious 

 music (this was in northern Indiana) ; but until 

 the past spring he has always been silent as he 

 passed through this neighborhood, save that he 

 would sometimes utter his sharp, metallic Chip. 

 However, on the fourteenth of May two of these 

 grossbeaks sang a most vigorous duet in the grove 

 near my house ; and I wish you could have heard it, 

 for it would have made you almost leap for joy, it 

 was so jolly and rollicksome. At first you may be 

 disposed to think the grossbeak's song much like 

 the robin's, but you will soon find that it is finer in 

 several respects, the tones being clearer and fuller, 

 the utterance more rapid and varied, and the whole 

 song much more spirited ; and that is saying a 

 good deal, considering Cock Robin's cheery carols. 

 No one should fail to hear this rosy-breasted min- 

 strel, whatever else he may miss. It v/ill make him 



