22 
BIRDS 
and plaintively, that, if we pleased 
spring had come? 
About the middle of September I go 
out in the woods, and am attracted by a 
faint piping and lisping in the tops of the 
Oaks and Chestnuts. Tiny figures dart 
to and fro so rapidly that it pains the eye 
to follow them, and I discover that the 
Black-Poll Warbler is paying me a re¬ 
turn visit. Presently I likewise perceive 
a troop of Redstarts, or Green-Backed 
Warblers, or Golden and Ruby-Crowned 
Wrens, flashing through the Chestnut- 
branches, or hanging like jewels on the 
Cedar-sprays. A week or two later, and 
my darlings are gone, another love is in 
my heart, and other voices fill my ears. 
But so unapparent and mysterious are the 
coming and going, that I look upon each 
as a special Providence, and value them 
as visitants from another sphere. 
The migration of the Pigeons, Ducks, 
and Geese is obvious enough; we see them 
stream across the heavens, or hear their 
clang in the night; but these minstrels 
of the field and forest add to their other 
charms a shade of mystery, and pique 
