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not in search of company. He is like the amiable philosopher who was asked by some busybody why he so often talked to himself. "Well," said he, "for two reasons: first, I like to talk to a sensible man, and secondly, I like to hear a sensible man talk." In the present instance the shrike may very well have considered that there was little occasion for his talking, either to himself or to anybody else, since a bunch of twenty masculine redwings in some willow trees near by were chattering in chorus until, to use a good Old Colony phrase, a man could hardly hear himself think. Blackbird loquacity, each particular bird sputtering "to beat the band," is one of the wonders of the world.
