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LETTERS FROM ALABAMA. 
LETTER XVII. 
December 1st. 
How slight a thing will touch the chords of 
sympathy ! The smallest object, the faintest note, 
will sometimes awaken association with some 
distant scene or bygone time, and conjure up in 
a moment, all unexpected, a magic circle, which 
unlocks all the secret springs of the soul, and 
excites emotions and affections that had slept for 
months, or perhaps years ! The unlooked-for sight 
of a little bird lately had such an effect upon me. 
It was an unpretending little thing, a sort of sparrow, 
called the Snow-bird {Fringilla nivalis)^ of no great 
beauty in plumage, being of a dark slate-colour 
above, and white below, and with nothing but a 
feeble chirp for a song. But it had been in Canada 
one of the most familiar of our birds, hopping 
about every way-side, and sitting upon every 
fence ; and the first time I saw it in these distant 
southern regions, it seemed like an old friend come 
to tell me of old familiar faces, and to converse 
with me of old familiar scenes. I almost felt dis- 
appointed that it did not seem as glad to see me, 
as I was to welcome it ; but it hopped away at my 
approach, and sat on the fence ^rail preening its 
feathers, without a suspicion of my sentimental 
emotions. 
