Chamberlain’s New Brunswick Notes. 
18S3.] 
I I 
neither lakes nor streams had thawed ; while the dry, thin air, 
though stirred by no wind, was so intensely cold that I was 
forced to walk very briskly and administer frequent rubs to nose 
and cheeks to keep at all comfortable. Passing along a suburban 
road about sunrise, my attention was attracted by the note of a 
Robin, which I soon discovered perched on a tree near by, wear- 
ing an appearance of utter wretchedness. His body was con- 
tracted as if by pain, his feathers were ruffled, and his head 
drooped. At long intervals he gave voice to a feeble, sad-toned 
note, and crouching thus, shivering with cold, hungry no doubt, 
and forlorn, appeared, physically and morally, but the ghostly 
shadow of that sprightly and vivacious Robin Redbreast that 
had filled the air with his blithesome carol in the happy spring- 
time. As I stood watching him I heard another note. Robin 
heard it also, and arousing a little called back. The new note 
was repeated and I recognized the voice as that of a Red- 
eyed Vireo, which I detected searching for a breakfast on the 
leafless branches of a distant birch. Robin’s appearance was 
at once changed ; his body and head were held erect, his 
feathers smoothed, and his voice rang out clear and strong. After 
a few more calls and a few strains of song both birds flew to a 
tree about mid-way between their first positions, and on approach- 
ing it to obtain a more certain identification of the Vireo, I found 
the pair sitting side by side on the same limb, their faces turned 
toward the newly-risen sun, singing away as merrily as if cold and 
hunger were unknown to them, or at least uncared for. They 
seemed indeed a joyous pair, yet there was something singu- 
larly pathetic in their very happiness. Possibly the Robin might 
contend successfully against the severity of our weather, as I have 
known many of his race to do before him. But the Green- 
lets ordinarily remain with us only during the warmest weather 
and this thoughtless fellow would, I feared, be unable to with- 
stand the cold without a generous supply of insect food, which 
he would find it impossible to obtain. 
After all, mused I, as I turned away, leaving the oddly assorted 
pair still singing, what better ending for such a life as a bird’s 
could be desired ! The cold-benumbed brain registers no pain, 
nor creates other than pleasing fancies. And how appropriate a 
death for so fairy-like a creature — to fall peacefully asleep upon 
! the virgin snow, with the wind weaving over his stiffening form 
a shroud of glittering crystals. 
