SONGS OF AMERICAN BIRDS. 
nothing but dew, and the dew distilled in 
those high pastoral regions has surprising 
virtues. It gives a clear, full, vibrant quality 
to the birds’ voices that I have never heard 
elsewhere. The night of my arrival, I leave 
my southern window open, so that the mea- 
dow chorus may come pouring in before I am 
up inthe morning. Howit does transport me 
athwart the years, and make me a boy again, 
sheltered by the paternal wing! On one oc- 
casion, the third morning after my arrival, 
a bobolink had appeared with a new note in 
his song. The note sounded like the word 
«baby» uttered with a peculiar, tender reso- 
nance: but it was clearly an interpolation; it 
did not belong there; it had no relation to the 
rest of the song. Yet the bird never failed 
to utter it with the same joy and confidence 
as the rest of his song. Maybe it was the 
beginning of a variation that may in time 
result in an entirely new bobolink song. 
On my last spring visit to my native hills, 
my attention was attracted to another song- 
ster not seen or heard there in my youth— 
namely, the shore-lark, also called «horned 
lark » from the marked division of its crest. 
Flocks of these birds used to be seen in the 
Northern States in the late fall during their 
Vou. LY.—91. 
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southern migrations; but within the last 
twenty years they have become regular sum- 
mer residents in the hilly parts of many sec- 
tions of New York and New England. They 
are genuine skylarks, and lack only the pow- 
ers of song to make them as attractive as 
their famous cousins of Europe. 
The larks are ground-birds when they 
perch, and sky-birds when they sing; from 
the turf to the clouds—nothing between. 
CHICKADEES. 
Our shore-lark mounts upward on quivering 
wing in the'true lark fashion, and, spread out 
against’ the sky at an altitude of two or three 
hundred feet, hovers and sings. The watcher 
and listener below holds him in his eye, but 
the ear catches only a faint, broken, half- 
inarticulate note now and then—mere splin- 
ters, as it were, of the song of the skylark. 
The song of the latter is continuous and is 
loud and humming; it is a fountain of jubilant 
song up there in the sky: but our shore-lark 
sings in snatches; at each repetition of its 
notes it dips forward and downward a few 
feet, and then rises again. One day I kept 
my eye upon one until it repeated its song 
one’ hundred and three times; then it closed 
its wings, and dropped toward the earth like 
a plummet, as does its European congener. 
