AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
245 
soul, expired in the last elevated strain.” While thus 
exerting himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, would 
suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled to- 
gether, on a trial of skill; each striving to produce his ut- 
most effect; so perfect are his imitations. He many times 
deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search of birds 
that perhaps are not within miles of him; but whose notes 
he exactly imitates: even birds themselves are frequently 
imposed on by this admirable mimic, and are decoyed by 
the fancied calls of their mates; or dive, with precipita- 
tion, into the depth of thickets, at the scream of what they 
suppose to be the sparrow hawk. 
The Mocking-bird loses little of the power and energy 
of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, 
when he commences his career of song, it is impossible to 
stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Caesar 
starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He 
squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about 
with hanging wings, and bristled feathers, clucking to 
protect its injured brood. The barking of the dog, the 
mewing of the cat, the creaking of a passing wheel-bar- 
row, follow, with great truth and rapidity. He repeats 
the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable 
length, fully and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings 
of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the Virginia 
nightingale, or red-bird, with such superior execution and 
effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferi- 
ority, and become altogether silent; while he seems to 
triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions. 
This excessive fondness for variety, however, in the 
opinion of some, injures his song. His elevated imita- 
tion of the brown thrush are frequently interrupted by the 
crowing of cocks; and the warblings of the blue-bird, 
which he exquisitely manages, are mingled with the 
screaming of swallows, or the cackling of hens; amidst the 
simple melody of the robin we are suddenly surprised by 
the shrill reiterations of the whippoorwill; while the notes 
of the kildeer, blue jay, martin, baltimore, and twenty 
others, succeed, with such imposing reality, that we look 
round for the originals, and discover, with astonishment, 
that the sole performer in this singular concert is the admi- 
rable bird now before us. During this exhibition of his 
powers he spreads his wings, expands his tail, and throws 
himself around the cage in all the ecstacy of enthusiasm, 
seeming not only to sing, but to dance, keeping time to 
the measure of his own music. Both in his native and do- 
mesticated state, during the solmen stillness of night, as 
soon as the moon rises in silent majesty, he begins his de- 
lightful solo; and serenades us the live long night with a 
full display of his vocal powers, making the whole neigh- 
bourhood ring with his inimitable medley. — Wilson. 
Q q q 
THE TAMARIND-TREE. 
The tamarind-tree is a native both of the East In- 
dies and of tropical America, and probably also of Arabia 
and some parts of Africa. It was very early introduced 
into England; for Gerarde, whose Herbal was published 
in 1633, makes mention of it as growing there. It does 
not often flower in that country, though it has done so in 
the Royal Gardens at Kew. It is, however, a common or- 
nament of their hot-houses. Where it is a native, it grows 
to be a large tree, and affords excellent timber — heavy, 
firm, hard, and durable. The stem is large, covered with 
brown bark, and divides into many branches; the leaves 
are not unlike those of the mountain ash, only they are of 
a brighter green, and the leaflets are closer to the mid-rib. 
The leaflets are small, but the number in a leaf, (sixteen 
or eighteen pairs in a leaf, with an odd one at the ex- 
tremity,) give the tree a very light and elegant appear- 
ance. The flowers come out from the sides of the branches 
in loose bunches, and are followed by the pods, of which 
there are generally about five or six on a bunch. The pods 
of the West India tamarinds, are, on an average, about 
three inches long, and contain about three seeds; those 
from the East are about double the size. 
The pulp in which the seeds of the tamarind are in- 
closed, contains more acid than any other vegetable sub- 
stance, in a natural state, with which we are acquainted; 
and therefore it is used both for sharpening food and drink; 
and for medicinal purposes. Niebuhr says, “the tama- 
rind is equally useful and agreeable. It has a pulp of a vi- 
nous taste, of which a wholesome refreshing liquor is pre- 
pared; its shade shelters houses from the torrid heat of the 
sun; and its fine figure greatly adorns the scenery of the 
country.” Its refreshing properties has given it a place 
in poetry: 
“ The damsel from the tamarind-tree 
Had pluck’d its acid fruit, 
And steep'd it in water long; 
And whoso drank of the cooling draught, 
He would not wish for wine.” 
Mandelslo, an old traveller, says, that as soon as the sun 
is set the leaves of the tamarind close up the fruit to pre- 
serve it from the dew, and open as soon as that luminary 
appears again: 
“ ’Tis the cool evening hour : 
The tamarind, from the dew 
Sheaths its young fruit, yet green.” 
The East India tamarinds are preserved without sugar, 
and therefore they are the best for medicinal use. About 
