18 WUOD THRUSH. 
as widely as the voices of different individuals of the human species, 
or as one singer does from another. The powers of song, in some 
individuals of the Wood Thrush, have often surprised and delighted me. 
Of these I remember one, many years ago, whose notes I could in- 
stantly recognize on entering the woods, and with whom I had been, 
as it were, acquainted from his first arrival. The top of a large white 
oak that overhung part of the glen, was usually the favorite pinnacle 
from whence he poured the sweetest melody; to which 1 had fre- 
quently listened till night began to gather in the woods, and the fire- 
flies to sparkle among the branches. But, alas! in the pathetic lan- 
guage of the poet — 
One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill, 
Along the vale, and on his favorite tree — 
Another came, nor yet beside the rill, 
Nor up the glen, nor in the wood was he. 
Afew days afterwards, passing along the edge of the rocks, I found 
fragments of the wings and broken feathers of a Wood Thrush killed 
by the Hawk, which I contemplated with unfeigned regret, and not 
without a determination to retaliate on the first of these murderers I 
could meet with. ’ ‘ 
That I may not seem singular in my estimation of this bird, I shall 
subjoin an extract of a letter from a distinguished American gentle- 
man, to whom I had sent some drawings, and whose name, were I at 
liberty to give it, would do honor to my humble performance, and 
render any further observations on the subject from me unnecessary. 
“ As you are curious in birds, there is one well worthy your atten- 
tion, to be found, or rather heard, in every part of America, and yet 
scarcely ever to be seen. It is in all the forests from spring to fall, 
and never but on the tops of the tallest trees, from which it perpet- 
ually serenades us with some of the sweetest notes, and as clear as 
those of the Nightingale. I have followed it for miles, without ever 
but once getting a good view of it. It is of the size and make of the 
Mocking Bird, lightly thrush-colored on the back, and a grayish white 
on the breast and belly. Mr. , my son-in-law, was in possession 
of one, which had been’shot by a neighbor; he pronounced it a Mus- 
cicapa, and I think it much resembles the Mouche rolle de la Martinique, 
8 Buffon, 374, Pl. enlum. 568. As it abounds in all the neighborhood 
of Philadelphia, you may, perhaps, by patience and perseverance, (of 
which much will be requisite,) get a sight, if not a possession, of it. 
I have, for twenty years, interested the young sportsmen of my neigh- 
borhood to shoot me one, but, as yet, without success.” 
It may seem strange that neither Sloane,* Catesby, Edwards, nor. 
Buffon, all of whom are said to have described this bird, should say 
any thing of its melody; or rather, assert that it had only a single cry 
or scream. This I cannot account for in any other way than by sup- 
posing, what I think highly probable, that this bird has never been 
figured or described by any of the above authors. ane 
Catesby has, indeed, represented a bird, which he calls Turdus 
minimus,t but it is difficult to discover, either from the figure or de- 
* Hist. Jam. ii. 305. + Carzssy’s Nat. Hist. Car. i. 31 
