MIGRATION OF BIRDS. 
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were in movement ; Mr. Bryant saw his bird in the evening, and 
it was alone, still the lines would recur to one : 
" Whither, 'midst falling dew. 
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 
Thy solitary way." 
A flock of migratory birds can never fail, indeed, to be a beau- 
tiful and striking sight. The proud ships crossing the vast ocean, 
with man at the helm, are not a more impressive spectacle than 
these lesser creatures travelling through 
" The desert and illimitable air — 
Lone, wandering, but not lost." 
Doubtless the flocks which now pass over the valley are as 
nothing compared with the throngs that went and came when the 
red man hunted here ; still, we never fail to see them spring and 
fall. Many are the diff'erent varieties which come and go, and 
various are their habits of travelling. Some fly by day, others at 
night ; some are silent, others utter loud and peculiar cries ; these 
move in a regular phalanx, those in a careless crowd ; some have 
leaders, others need none ; these move rapidly, and directly to- 
ward their goal, others linger weeks on the way. Some travel in 
flocks, others in pairs ; with these the males fly first, with those 
all move together ; some follow the coast, others take an inland 
course. 
And how much pleasure the birds give and receive by their 
migrations ! This singular instinct implanted in the breast of the 
fowls of the air, is indeed a very touching instance of the tender- 
ness of Providence, who not only bestows what is necessary on 
