same in different localities. In New Jersey it has one song; on the Hudson a slight variation of the same, and on the high grass lands of the interior of the State, quite a different strain, — clearer, more distinctly articulated, and running off with more sparkle and liltingness. It reminds one of the clearer mountain air and the translucent spring water of those localities. I never could make out what the bobolink says in New Jersey, but in certain districts in this State his enunciation is quite distinct. Sometimes he begins with the word gegue, gegue. Then again, more fully, be true to me, Clarsy, be true to me, Clarsy, Clarsy, thence full tilt into his inimitable song, interspersed in which the words kick your slipper, kick your slipper, and temperance, temperance (the last with a peculiar nasal resonance), are plainly heard. At its best, it is a remarkable performance, a unique performance, as it contains not the slightest hint or suggestion, either in tone, or manner, or effect, of any other bird-song to be heard. The bobolink has no mate or parallel in any part of the world. He stands alone. There is no closely allied species. He is not a lark, nor a finch, nor a warbler, nor a thrush, nor a starling (though classed with the starlings by late naturalists). He is an exception to many well-known rules. He is the only ground-bi.d known to me of marked and conspicuous plumage. He is the only black-and-white bird we have east of the Mississippi, and what is still more odd, he is black beneath and white above-the reverse of the fact in all other cases. Preeminently a bird of the meadow during the breeding season, and associated with clover, and daisies, and buttercups, as no other bird is, he yet has the look of an interloper or a new-comer, and not of one to the manor born. The bobolink has an unusually full throat, which may help account for his great power of song. No bird has yet been found that could imitate him or even repeat or suggest a single note, as if his song were the product of a new set of organs. There is a vibration about it and a rapid running over the keys that is the despair of other songsters. It is said that the mocking-bird is dumb in the presence of the bobolink. My neighbor has an English skylark that was hatched and reared in captivity. The bird is a most persistent and vociferous songster, and fully as successful a mimic as the mocking-bird. It pours out a strain that is a regular mosaic of nearly all the bird-notes to be heard, its own proper lark song forming a kind of bordering for the whole. The notes of the phobe-bird, the purple finch, the swallow, the yellow-bird, the king-bird, the robin, and others, are rendered with perfect distinctness and accuracy, but not a word of the bobolink's, though the lark must have heard its song every day for four successive summers. It was the one conspicuous note in the fields around that the lark made no attempt to plagiarize. He could not steal the bobolink's thunder. The lark is only a more marvelous songster than the bobolink on account of his soaring flight, and the His note is rasp sustained copiousness of his song. The bird among us that is usually called a lark, namely, the meadow-lark, but which our later classifiers say is no lark at all, has nearly the same quality of voice as the English skylark-loud, piercing, z-z-ing; and during the mating season it frequently indulges while on the wing in a brief song that is quite lark-like. It is also a bird of the stubble, and one of the last to retreat on the approach of winter. The habits of many of our birds are slowly undergoing a change. Their migrations are less marked. With the settlement and cultivation of the country the means of subsistence of nearly every species are vastly increased. Insects are more numerous, and seeds of weeds and grasses more abundant. They become more and more domestic like the English birds. The swallows have nearly all left their original abodes, hollow trees, and cliffs, and rocks, for human habitations and their environments. Where did the barn-swallow nest before the country was settled? The chimney-swallow nested in hollow trees, and, perhaps, occasionally resorts thither yet. But the chimney, notwithstanding the smoke, seems to suit his taste best. In the spring, before they have paired, I think these swallows sometimes pass the night in the woods, but not if an old disused chimney is handy. One evening in early May my attention was arrested by a band of them containing several hundred, perhaps a thousand, circling about near a large, tall, disused chimney in a secluded place in the country. They were very lively, and chippering, and diving in a most extraordinary manner. They formed a broad continuous circle many rods in diameter. Gradually the circle contracted and neared the chimney. Presently some of the birds as they came round began to dive toward it, and the chippering was more animated than ever. Then a few ventured in; in a moment more, the air at the mouth of the chimney was black with the stream of descending swallows. When the passage began to get crowded, the circle lifted and the rest of the birds continued their flight, giving those inside time to dispose of themselves. Then the influx began again and was kept up till the crowd became too great, when it cleared as before. Thus. by installments, or in layers, the swallows were packed into the chimney until the last one was stowed away. Passing by the place a few days afterward, I saw a board reaching from the roof of the building to the top of the chimney, and imagined some curious person or some predacious boy had been up to take a peep inside, and see how so many swallows could dispose of themselves in such a space. It would have been an interesting spectacle to see them emerge from the chimney in the morning. མས པ ཀྟ ལ་བ་ལ་་པ་ག་བ ི་ |