12 A FORWARD MARCH. 



signal. The rambler, however, need not fly to 

 other worlds for entertainment. Nature is here. 

 Her catalogue of beauties and wonders is not 

 soon exhausted, and the book is held up at every 

 step, for him to read. 



March, after a short bluster, settles into good 

 temper again. Even the sunny spirit and humor 

 of May shines into many of his latter days. The 

 revival of the year has already been announced by 

 the sweet voices of the red-wings. Ah ! the soft, 

 mellow contralto of this gay, epauletted starling 

 is the very expression of mild spring weather. 

 When he strikes the right key-note, and does not 

 slip into cracked, discordant tones, as he is apt 

 to do at the slightest cause, not even the blue- 

 coated poet himself surpasses him in tender, elys- 

 ian melody. In the sunshine I sit entranced at 

 the sound of an unusually persistent sweet singer. 

 He reminds me of the veer}' when the spell is on 

 him. " Og-a-lu-e-e-e ! 01-eagle !" he says, rolling 

 the mellifluous notes out of his throat and over 

 his tongue, as if he liked the taste of them. It is 

 the music of the purling ripples of a clear, cool 

 brook to the thirsty, way-worn traveler. For a 

 half-hour he continues to pour forth his delicious 

 strains that melt in the ear as the richest con- 

 fections dissolve on the tongue. As far as seen, 

 there are no females in this flock. Each one has 

 his red-gold fringed shoulder-ornament sharply 



