PART VIII. 

 OUR FOREST CHORISTERS. 



SONGSTERS OF THE GARDEN. 



1. For many years I have been in the habit of noting 

 down some of the leading events of my embowered soli- 

 tude, such as the coming of certain birds and the like, 

 after the fashion of White of Selborne, rather than prop- 

 erly digested natural history. I thought it not impossible 

 that a few simple stories of my winged acquaintances might 

 be found entertaining by persons of kindred taste. 



2. The return of the robin is commonly announced by 

 the newspapers, like that of eminent and notorious people to 

 a watering-place, as the first authentic notification of spring. 

 And such his appearance in the orchard and garden un- 

 doubtedly is. But, in spite of his name of migratory 

 thrush, he stays with us all winter, and I have seen him 

 when the thermometer marked fifteen degrees below zero, 

 armed impregnably within like Emerson's titmouse, and 'as 

 cheerful as he. 



3. The robin has a bad reputation among people, who 

 do not value themselves less, for being fond of cherries. 

 There is, I admit, a spice of vulgarity in him, and bis song, 

 rather of the Bloomfield sort, too largely ballasted with 

 prose. His ethics are of the Poor Richard school, and the 

 main chance which calls forth all his energies is altogether 



