CLASS II. AVES: ORDER 2. PASSERES. 
189 
of different kinds were all singing together. Some idea may be formed of this song by striking 
the high keys of a piano-forte at random, singly and quickly, making as many sudden contrasts 
of high and low notes as possible. Many of the tones are, in themselves, charming ; but they 
succeed each other so rapidly that the ear can hardly separate them, jSTevertheless, the general 
effect is good ; and, when ten or twelve are all singing on the same tree, the concert is singularly 
pleasing." 
The manner in which this bird strikes the pop lar imagination is happily illustrated by two 
of our most eminent writers, Irving and Bryant ; and although we have already noticed it at some 
length (see p. 12), Ave surely need offer no apology for giving these accurate and felicitous de- 
lineations : 
"The happiest bird of our spring," says Irving, "and one that rivals the European lark in my 
estimation, is the Boblincon or Boblink, as he is commonljr called. He arrives at that choice 
period of our year "which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May, so 
often given by the poets. With us, it begins about the middle of May, and lasts nntii nearly the 
middle of June. Earlier than this winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening 
beauties of the year ; later than this begin the parching and panting and dissolving heats of sum- 
mer. But in this genial interval nature is in all her freshness and fragrance ; 'the rains are over 
and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing birds is come, and the voice 
of the turtle is heard in the land.' The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest ver- 
dure; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel; the air is perfumed by the 
sweet-brier and the wild rose ; the meadows are enameled with clover-blossoms ; while the young 
apple, the peach, and the plum begin to swell, and the cherry to glow among the green leaves. 
"This is the chosen season of revelry of the boblink. He comes amid the pomp and fragrance 
of the season; his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be 
found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when the 
clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long, flaunting weed, 
' and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of rich tinkling notes, crowd- 
ing one upon another like the outpouring melody of the sky-lark, and possessing the same rap- 
j turous character. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he 
gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his 
own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his paramour ; always in full song, as if he would win 
her by his melody, and always with the same appearance of intoxication and delight. 
" Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the boblink was the envy of my boyhood. He 
crossed my path in the sweetest weather and the sweetest season of the year, Avhen all nature 
I called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom, but when I, luckless urchin ! 
was doomed to be mured up during the livelong day in that purgatory of boyhood, a school-room. 
i It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me as he flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me 
' with his happier lot. Oh, how I envied him ! No lessons, no task, no hateful school ; nothing 
\ but holiday, frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I 
' might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo : 
' Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, ' Oli ! could I fly, I'd fly with thee, 
f Thy sky is ever clear; We'd make, on joyful wing. 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy note, Our annual visit round the globe, 
No winter in thy year. Companions of the spring!' 
"Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this little feathered vo- 
luptuary, which I will venture to impart for the benefit of my school-boy readers, who may regard 
him with the same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I have shown him 
only as I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetic part of his career, when he in a manner 
devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird of music, and song, and taste, 
and sensibility, and refinement. While this lasted he was sacred from injury; the very school- 
boy would not fling a stone at him, and the merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain. 
But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover blossoms disappear, and the spring 
fades into summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits, doffs his poetical suit of 
