THE RETURN OF THE NATIVES. 89 



to hear him stammer through the lesson he has so 

 imperfectly learned while away in his winter re- 

 sort. He catches the intonation of the robin per- 

 fectly, and this seems to be his own opinion, for 

 he recurs to it very often, but forgets more than 

 half the notes of that singer, and immediately 

 lapses into a mess of gibberish that you can make 

 nothing of. Yet he is so honest and persevering 

 withal that you feel compelled to applaud, even 

 while laughing at his blunders. 



Half-hidden in the midst of cornels and arrow- 

 woods, I take my position to observe the different 

 musicians as they come to bathe and clear their 

 throats. What voice is that uplifted a quarter of 

 a mile away? Not a robin's, surely; yet it has 

 in it some of its intonations. Nearer and nearer it 

 sounds, until I have caught the words, 'Tis very 

 queer, very 'cute; as if the artist had witnessed 

 some extraordinary exhibition or performance and 

 could not restrain his expression of surprise and 

 admiration at the spectacle. Presently a bird flies 

 among the top-most branches of a white oak, like 

 a firebrand blown from some burning mass, and 

 gives his discourse in pure, rich tones which corres- 

 pond to his gorgeous dress. His manner, however, 

 is :quite unostentatious, for he spends much of his 



