A Bouquet of Song Birds 



in the air are of a piece with his musical 

 buffoonery. But, prodigal as he is of all his 

 natural gifts, he does not betray a genuine, 

 earnest soul for music, like a thrush or finch ; 

 and utters his kaleidoscopic melange in a rather 

 shallow, ad captandum fashion. If I mistake 

 him not, he is not a bad type of the profes- 

 sional humorist, who is at first extremely enter- 

 taining, but gives no thoroughly substantial 

 pleasure, and ere long becomes wearisome. 



At a deserted "mill privilege" the water 

 thrush and a pair of sandpipers had taken up 

 their abode, the red -winged blackbird an- 

 nounced himself in a swamp close by, the king- 

 bird rattled his ominous note as he chased his 

 insect-prey, and bank swallows circled over the 

 stream. The olive - backed and the Wilson 

 thrushes were still shifting all the burden of 

 song upon the faithful wood thrush, the olive- 

 backed only deigning occasionally to snap out 

 a sharp note, while the Wilson's more mellow, 

 but fretful, tone was heard everywhere. 



On the edge of a clearing the impetuous 

 white -eyed vireo appeared to be domiciled. 

 The first time I heard his dashing strain, a 

 couple of weeks before, he was so captivating 

 by his peculiarly vigorous temperament that, 



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