70 
BIRDS 
you the right to pass there, if it lies in 
your course; but pause an instant, raise 
your hand toward the defenceless house¬ 
hold, and his anger and indignation are 
beautiful to behold. 
What a noble pride he has! Late one 
October, after his mates and companions 
had long since gone South, I noticed one 
for several successive days in the dense 
part of this next-door wood, flitting noise¬ 
lessly about, very grave and silent, as if 
doing penance for some violation of the 
code of honor. By many gentle, indi¬ 
rect approaches, I perceived that part of 
his tail-feathers were undeveloped. The 
sylvan prince could not think of return¬ 
ing to court in this plight,—and so, amid 
the falling leaves and cold rains of au¬ 
tumn, was patiently biding his time. 
The soft, mellow flute.of the Veery fills 
a place in the chorus of the woods that 
the song of the Vesper-Sparrow fills in 
the chorus of the fields. It has the Night¬ 
ingale’s habit of singing in the twilight, 
and possesses, I believe, all of the Night¬ 
ingale’s mellowness and serenity. Walk 
out toward the forest in the warm twi- 
