CHAPTER III. 
THE VOICE. 
“ ’Tis always morning somewhere: and above 
The awakening continents, from shore to shore, 
Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.” 
Longfellow. 
The voice is still motion; but no longer entirely a 
corporeal one. By it the spirit moves, through the 
agency of the body, as a machine. The spirit creates 
and poetises the measure; while the result is clothed 
by the body with tones,—aye, words! The bird so 
highly gifted, as an animal, is also endowed, as it were, 
above all other created beings with an intellectual voice. 
It understands how to sing; and its song is speech! 
Mammals give expression to their feelings through the 
instrumentality of sounds; still these cannot be termed 
either song or speech; and, with the exception of man, 
the bird alone can do so in tones agreeable and touching 
to the ear. The distinction to be drawn between the two 
is, that man envelopes thought in melody, and the bird — 
feeling; and yet birds are possessed of thoughts and 
words! 
To examine these gifts from a physical and physiolo¬ 
gical point of view would carry us too far. It suffices that 
we should seek to make ourselves understood, in our 
