would not willingly pass by the thrush-that joyous herald of the joyous spring. In the very dawn of spring he pours forth his sweet and varied strains from the tops of the highest trees. Before the primroses have unfolded their pale blossoms, or the bursting buds begun to tinge the woods with a shade of green, we hear his full clear notes. To us, the continued and far heard song of the early thrush, is associated with our earliest enjoyment of the pure air and sunshine, on the pleasant mornings of spring. In those cheering hours of brightness, which break on us after the clouds and darkness of the winter, fraught with hopeful anticipations and images of coming joy, who is there that has not welcomed the thrush's song with delight? As his animated strains resound through the valley, he seems to call on the other warblers of the grove to rouse from their lethargy, and join their notes of rejoicing with his.

There are four species of thrush in this country. The song-thrush, the missel-thrush, the redwing, or wind-thrush, and the fieldfare. The songthrush is the most common species, both in this country and in France, where it commits great havoc in the vineyards on the approach of the vintage season, by feeding on the ripe grapes. In France it is certainly a migratory bird, quit

ting that country immediately after the vintage is over; but with us this does not seem to be the case. It is said, there are no birds for which more snares are set, than thrushes; and this not merely to secure them as singing birds, but also as articles of food. They are considered a delicacy when in good condition.

We are

With us, the thrush is heard as early as February, and continues to sing till the end of July, or beginning of August. And here we cannot but confess the chagrin we feel at being compelled to relinquish a delightful anecdote of the thrush which we had extracted from the Magazine of Natural History, and prepared for our own especial purpose. But, lo! the writer of the Architecture of Birds, has forestalled us, and appropriated the story to his own use. half inclined to quarrel with him for this, much as we are disposed to commend his book. Alas! for us, in the present day of endless scribbling and countless authorship, every ill-fated writer is in danger of treading on the heels of another, and feels himself forced either to keep contentedly in the back-ground, or push his fellow-traveller uncivilly from the pavement. Eh bien ! of the two evils the first mentioned is, in our estimation, the least. So, adieu to the thrush story for us! Our readers will find it in the Magazine

of Natural History, for May, 1830; and in the Architecture of Birds.

THE SONG OF THE THRUSH.

Ere the morning light

Had chased the night,

Oh! did ye not hear a wild trilling song,
Floating the op'ning vallies among ?
From dawn of day,

That warbling lay

Seem'd as though it would charm the darkness away

Hark, how the air rings!
'Tis the mavis sings;

And merrily, merrily sounds her voice,
Calling on vallies and hills to rejoice;
For winter is past,

And the stormy blast

Is hastening away to the northward at last.

Awake! land and sea,

And rejoice with me;

Awake! she cries, from your winter's repose,
Awake! for the south wind softly blows;

Wake, birds of the bowers,

The moments are ours,

Wake! wake! and welcome the season of flowers.

Awake! and sing,

For the joyous spring,

Is hanging green wreaths on the forest-trees,
And shedding sweet odours on every breeze.
Wake, birds of song!

Why linger so long?

Wake! wake! and rejoice with our merry throng.

ORDER PASSERES.

Mocking Bird. Mocking Thrush.

Turdus polyglottus.

THIS amusing inhabitant of the American woods is called, by the Mexicans, "the bird of four hundred languages." It derives its name from the talent it possesses of imitating the songs of other birds. Its own natural song is sweet and varied, but to this it adds the notes of almost all the other birds it hears in the extensive forests and savannahs of America. Its imitations do not merit the name of mocking, since it does not caricature the songs of other birds, but copies them with much skill and taste, throwing in notes of his own at intervals, and giving to the borrowed strain added grace and harmony.

Waterton, who had many opportunities of observing this bird in its native haunts, thus describes it: "The cassique, or mocking-bird, is larger than the starling. He courts the society of man, but disdains to live by his labours. When nature calls for support, he repairs to the neighbouring forest, and there partakes of the

fruits and seeds which she has produced in abundance for her aërial tribes. When his repast is over, he returns to man, and pays the little tribute which he owes him for his protection: he takes his station close to his house, and there, for hours together, pours forth a succession of imitative notes. His own song is sweet, but very short. If a toucan be yelping in the neighbourhood, he drops it, and imitates him. Then he will amuse his protector with the cries of the different species of the woodpecker; and when the sheep bleat, he will distinctly answer them. Then comes his own song again, and if a puppy-dog, or a guinea-fowl, interrupt him, he takes them off admirably, and by his different gestures during the time, you would conclude that he enjoys the sport. The cassique is gregarious, and imitates any sound he hears with such exactness, that he goes by no other name than that of mocking-bird amongst the colonists. At breeding time, a number of these pretty choristers resort to a tree near the planter's house, and from its outside branches weave their pendulous nests. So conscious do they seem that they never give offence, and so little suspicious are they of receiving any injury from man, that they will choose a tree within forty yards from his house, and occupy the branches so low down,