THE WOODPECKER. 231 
wanting now but a nuptial chant (Hymen! O Hymenee!) It is not 
the woodpecker’s fault if Nature has denied to his genius the muse of 
melody. At least, in his harsh voice one cannot mistake the im- 
passioned accents of the heart. 
May they be happy! May a young and amiable generation 
spring into life, and mature under their eyes! Birds of prey shall 
not easily penetrate here. Only grant that the serpent, the frightful 
black serpent, may never visit this nest! Oh, that the child’s rough 
hand may not cruelly crush its sweet hope! And, above all, may 
the ornithologist, the friend of birds, keep afar from this spot ! 
If’persevering toil, ardent love of family, heroic defence of liberty, 
could impose respect and arrest the cruel hand of man, no sportsman 
would touch this noble bird. A young naturalist, who smothered 
one in order to impale it, has told me that he sickened of the brutal 
struggle, and suffered a keen remorse ; it seemed to him as if he had 
committed an assassination. : 
Wilson appears to have felt an analogous impression. “The first 
time,” says he, ‘that I observed this bird, in North Carolina, I 
wounded him slightly in the wing, and when I caught him he gave 
a cry exactly like an infant’s, but so loud and lamentable that my 
frightened horse nearly threw me off. I carried him to Wilmington : 
in ‘passing through the streets, the bird’s prolonged cries drew to the 
doors and windows a crowd of people, especially of women, filled with 
alarm. I continued my route, and, on entering the court of the 
hotel, met the master of the house and a crowd of people, alarmed 
at what they heard. Judge how this alarm increased when I asked 
for what was needed both by my child and myself. The master 
remained pale and stupid, and the others were dumb with astonish- 
ment, After having amused myself at their expense for a minute 
or two, I revealed my woodpecker, and a burst of universal laughter 
echoed around. I ascended with it to my chamber, where I left it 
“while I paid attention to my horse’s wants. I returned at the end 
of an hour, and, on opening the door, heard anew the same terrible 
cry, which this time appeared to originate in grief at being discovered 
