334 
THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
in winter, a cheerless chirp, or a hungry twit, is all 
we hear : the families of voice are away, or silent ; 
w^e have little to note, and perhaps as little inclination 
to observe. ' During no portion of the day can the 
general operations of nature be more satisfactorily- 
observed, than in the early morning. Rosy June-^ 
the very thoughts of an early summer's morning in 
the country, like enchantment, gives action to the 
current of our blood, health and enjoyment ! All 
things appear fresh and unsoiled. The little birds, 
animated and gratulous, are frisking about the sprays ; 
others, proceeding to their morning's meal, or occu- 
pied in the callings of their nature, give utterance, 
by every variety of voice, to the pleasures that they 
feel ; the world has not yet called us, and, with 
faculties unworn, we unite with them, partake of 
this general hilarity and joy, feel disposed to be 
happy, and enjoy the blessings around us. The 
very air itself, as yet uninhaled by any, circulates 
about us, replete with vitality, conveying more than 
its usual portion of sustenance and health ; ' and man 
goeth forth unto his labour.' Night-feeding crea- 
tures, feeling the freshness of light, and the coming 
day, are all upon the move, retiring from danger and 
