LEAVES FROM AN APRIL JOURNAL. 57 



him in the act, the leaves have been disturbed on 

 the sunny side of a large rock, where, for a while, 

 he has been hiding. In his wanderings he is as 

 dumb as a stuffed specimen, not even a chuck 

 escapes him. His flute notes, like those of the 

 signal horn of Munchausen's postilion, are yet 

 frozen in his throat, and it needs the summer's 

 heat, his native forests, and the inspiration of the 

 tender passion, to melt them into the flowing, 

 liquid melody of song. 



Zoologists say that the birds have many charac- 

 teristics of the reptiles, indicating their close rela- 

 tionship. To the superficial observer it would 

 seem almost absurd to place this pretty thrush so 

 near a brood of half-grown striped snakes (^Eutcenia 

 sirtalis) that have been drawn up from their cold, 

 dapap hibernacle by the warm rays of the sun. 

 How easily and noiselessly these reptilian rills glide 

 along, bending their flexible bodies conveniently to 

 every inequality in their path ; the color of their 

 skins so nicely harmonizing with surrounding ob- 

 jects that it is difficult to follow them with your 

 eyes. One, as I followed it, soon became fatigued, 

 and refused to crawl any farther, but immediately 

 put itself in a defensive attitude by resting on 

 seyeral of its coils, and raising its head as if to 



