32 WOOD THRUSH. 



delighted me. Of these I remember one, many years ago, whose 

 notes I eould instantly 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 I had frequently listened till night began to gather in the 

 woods, and the fire-flies to sparkle among the branches. But alas ! 

 in the pathetic language of the poet 



' One morn I miss'd him on th^ 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.' 



A few 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 

 gentleman to whom I had sent some drawings, and whose name, 

 were I at liberty to give it, would do honour to my humble per- 

 formance, and render any further observations on the subject from 

 me unnecessary. 



, " As you are curious in birds, there is one well worthy your 

 attention, 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 perpetually 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 



