BIRD He mounts and descends, as his song swells or dies away; and, as my friend, Mr. Bartram, has beautifully expressed it, "He springs aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recall his very soul, which expired in the last elevated strain." While thus exerting himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, would suppose that all the feathered tribes had assembled for a trial of skill, so perfect are his imitations. He often deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search of birds that perhaps are not within miles of him, but whose notes the mocking bird exactly imitates. Even birds themselves are frequently imposed on by this admirable mimic, and answer the fancied calls of their mates, or dart in terror into the depths of thickets at the scream of what they suppose to be the sparrow hawk. The mocking bird loses little of the power and energy of his song in confinement. He whistles for the dog; Rover starts up, wags his tail, and looks around for his master. The bird cries out like a hurt chicken; and the hen hurries about, with hanging wings and bristled feathers, clucking, to protect her injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of a passing wheelbarrow, perhaps, follow with great truth and rapidity. The mocking bird repeats the tune taught him by his master, fully and faithfully. He runs over the notes of the canary and the whistlings of the Virginia nightingale or redbird with such superior execution and effect that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority and become altogether silent, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoub ling his exertions. This excessive fondness for variety, however, injures his song. The warblings of the bluebird, which he imitates, he often interrupts to scream like a swallow or to cackle like a hen. Amidst the simple melody of the robin, we are suddenly surprised by the imitator's shrill recitations of the whip-poor-will; while the notes of the killdeer, blue jay, martin, and of twenty others are given in succession so accurately that we look around for the originals, and discover, with astonishment, that the sole performer in this singular concert is the remarkable bird before us. During an exhibition of his powers he spreads his wings, and expands his tail, and throws himself around the cage in an ecstasy of enthusiasm; seeming not only to sing, but to dance, keeping time to the measure of his own music. Both in his native and domesticated state, during the solemn stillness of the night, as soon as the moon rises in silent majesty, he begins his delightful solo, and serenades us the livelong night with a full display of his vocal powers, making the whole neighborhood ring with his inimitable melody. an' i ma' tion, liveliness. pre em' i nent, superior to. We shape ourselves the joy or fear -WHITTIER. A DOUBTING HEART. ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. Where are the swallows fled? Frozen and dead, Perchance upon some bleak and stormy shore. Far over purple seas They wait, in sunny ease, The balmy southern breeze To bring them to their northern homes once more. Why must the flowers die? In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. O doubting heart! They only sleep below The soft white ermine snow, While winter winds shall blow, The sun has hid his rays Will dreary hours never leave the earth? The stormy clouds on high Veil the same sunny sky That soon, for spring is nigh, Shall wake the summer into golden mirth. Fair hope is dead, and light Is quenched in night; What sound can break the silence of despair? The sky is overcast, Yet stars shall rise at last, Brighter for darkness past, And angels' silver voices stir the air. THE NORTH AND THE SOUTH. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. I. "Now give us lands where the olives grow," Cried the North to the South, "Where the sun with a golden mouth can blow Blue bubbles of grapes down a vineyard row!" Cried the North to the South. "Now give us men from the sunless plain," Cried the South to the North, "By need of work in the snow and the rain Made strong and brave by familiar pain!" Cried the South to the North. II. "Give lucider hills and intenser seas,' Said the North to the South, "Since ever by symbols and bright degrees Art, childlike, climbs to the dear Lord's knees,” Said the North to the South. "Give strenuous souls for belief and prayer," Said the South to the North, 'That stand in the dark on the lowest stair, While affirming of God, 'He is certainly there," Said the South to the North. III. "Yet, oh, for the skies that are softer and higher!" Sighed the North to the South, "For the flowers that blaze, and the trees that aspire, And the insects made of a song or a fire!" "And oh, for a seer to discern the same!" "For a poet's tongue of baptismal flame, IV. The North sent therefore a man of men And thus to Rome came Andersen. "Alas, but must you take him again?” Said the South to the North. |