able. And it is impossible to visit the forest or the
sequestered dell, where the notes of the feathered tribes are heard to
the greatest advantage, without being impressed with the conviction that
there is design in the arrangement of this sylvan minstrelsy.--

[Illustration: THE ROBIN.]

First the robin (and not the lark, as has been generally imagined), as
soon as twilight has drawn its imperceptible line between night and day,
begins his lovely song. How sweetly does this harmonise with the soft
dawning of the day! He goes on till the twinkling sun-beams begin to
tell him that his notes no longer accord with the rising scene. Up
starts the lark, and with him a variety of sprightly songsters, whose
lively notes are in perfect correspondence with the gaiety of the
morning. The general warbling continues, with now and then an
interruption by the transient croak of the raven, the scream of the jay,
or the pert chattering of the daw. The nightingale, unwearied by the
vocal exertions of the night, joins his inferiors in sound in the
general harmony. The thrush is wisely placed on the summit of some lofty
tree, that its loud and piercing notes may be softened by distance
before they reach the ear; while the mellow blackbird seeks the inferior
branches.

[Illustration: THE LARK.]

[Illustration: THE LINNET.]

Should the sun, having been eclipsed by a cloud, shine forth with fresh
effulgence, how frequently we see the goldfinch perch on some blossomed
bough, and hear its song poured forth in a strain peculiarly energetic;
while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his golden
wings and crimson crest to charming advantage. The notes of the cuckoo
blend with this cheering concert in a pleasing manner, and for a short
time are highly grateful to the ear. But sweet as this singular song is,
it would tire by its uniformity, were it not given in so transient a
manner.

At length evening advances, the performers gradually retire, and the
concert softly dies away. The sun is seen no more. The robin again sends
up his twilight song, till the more serene hour of night sets him to the
bower to rest. And now to close the scene in full and perfect harmony;
no sooner is the voice of the robin hushed, and night again spreads in
gloom over the horizon, than the owl sends forth his slow and solemn
tones. They are more than plaintive and less than melancholy, and tend
to inspire the imagination with a train of contemp