THE SPRING SONG.
of dawn as of twilight, and in this same spot some day the Hermit Thrush may give a rehearsal for your private ear, of the music with which he will soon thrill the northern woods.
This is the Matin Song. When it ceases, you must watch for the individual birds as they go to and fro, feeding or building, or perching on some favourite twig to sing, either to their mates or from pure exultation. From nine o'clock in the morning until five in the afternoon, the principal singers are the Bobolink, Meadowlark, Vireos; the Red-start, who declares that every morsel he swallows is "Sweet, sweet, sweeter!" the Black-throated Green Warbler, who flashes his yellow feathers calling, "Will you co-ome, will you co-ome, will you?" the sprightly Maryland Yellow-throat, who almost beckons as he dashes about laughing, "Follow me, follow me"; the Baltimore Oriole, who alternately blows his mellow horn or complains querulously; and the Song Sparrow, who sings equally at all times.
Towards five o'clock the Evensong begins, and the Purple Finch, perching in the elm top, warbles in continuous bursts—"List to me, list to me, hear me, and I'll tell you, you, you," each peal being more vigorous than the last. The Wood Thrushes take up their harp-like "Uoli Uoli, aco. lee-lee," the Vesper Sparrow tunes, the birds of morning follow, one by one; but there are new voices that we did not hear in the matinal that continue after the chorus is hushed—the Rose-breasted Grosbeak, the Veery, and the Whip-poor-will.
The Veery rings his echo notes in the morning also, but his evensong is the best; and, as the dusk deepens, his notes have a more solemn quality. The Grosbeak has a sweet, rounded, warbling song that it is difficult to render in syllables intelligently, but when you hear it in the twilight you will know it, because it is unlike anything else. The Mockingbird is not heard freely as a night singer in this latitude, but further south he gives his best song only to the night wind; not his mocking, jeering ditty of squeaks and cat-calls, but his natural heart-song; and when you hear it, you may listen for the martial note of the Cardinal, who seems
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