PURPLE MARTIN. 
Progne subis Barrp. 
Puare XVIII. Ficure 2 and 38. 
From far off land, Thy sweet song wells — 
From ocean’s strand, And this it tells: % 
On pathways high and swinging, “I know not whence the feeling— 
By night and day, But—on! away! 
Thou mak'st thy way, Nor rest—nor stay! 
Thine homeward course fast winging. The voice of spring seems pealing. 
Oh, speak—! tell me—, Thus, without rest, 
Over land and sea With joyous zest, 
What was thy way of learning On pathways high and swinging 
That thy native land I seek my way 
From winter’s hand Without delay— 
Was freed, and spring was returning? My spring-clad course fast winging!” 
From the German of Julius Sturm, by Hi~tna SrLine. 
PRIL in the Gulf region is the real spring month, the most beautiful of all the 
(year. Then the air is most balmy and invigorating filled with the fragrance of 
innumerable flowers, then the birds sound their gayest and loudest carols. In order to 
admire nature in all her freshness and glory, we rise as early as four o’clock in the 
morning and step out into the fresh, soft air, impregnated with the richest perfumes. In 
the garden and along the piazza blossom the queens of the realm of flowers, the precious 
tea and Noisette roses, which in the North can be grown only with great care under 
glass. The powerfully fragrant sweet olives’, banana shrubs’, gardenias (Cape jasmine), 
and orange trees, the oleander, myrtle, ardisia, the last still ornamented with lustrous 
red berries, and many other shrubs are in full bloom. The night jasmine fills the air 
with its delicious odor. We cannot yet distinguish the different objects about us, for 
darkness still hovers over all nature. Only a barely perceptible streak in the far East 
intimates that day-break is approaching. Mockingbirds, the most enchanting songsters 
among the feathered tribe, are heard in every direction. Singing they fly up into the air 
and descend without interrupting their loud and indescribably sweet song. Here and there 
a Cardinal Redbird or a Carolina Wren, apparently yet half asleep, sound a few notes. 
When day breaks in the East, signs of life are perceptible in the Martin-house of our 
garden. At first we hear the pleasing melodious notes uttered quite softly and at 
intervals, but with the increasing light they increase in frequency and loudness. While 
thus twittering, the males project their purplish-black heads into the fresh morning air. 
After a short while one after another emerges, smoothing the plumage and twittering 
cheerily. Then, with loud music out they dart into their real element, the air. A fresh, 
gay, and cheery liveliness the twelve pairs, breeding in our Martin-house, impart to 
the garden, the yard, and the landscape around. ‘The Bluebirds, the Tufted Titmice, 
and the Carolina and Bewick’s Wrens appear from out of their nesting-boxes, but they 
1 Olea fragrans, 2 Magnolia fuscata. 
