dulations and gradations, the extent of its
compass, the great brilliancy of execution, are unrivalled. There is
probably no bird in the world that possesses all the musical
qualifications of this king of song, who has derived all from Nature's
self. Yes, reader, all!

No sooner has he again alighted, and the conjugal contract has been
sealed, than, as if his breast was about to be rent with delight, he
again pours forth his notes with more softness and richness than
before. He now soars higher, glancing around with a vigilant eye to
assure himself that none has witnessed his bliss. When these
love-scenes, visible only to the ardent lover of nature, are over, he
dances through the air, full of animation and delight, and as if to
convince his lovely mate that to enrich her hopes he has much more
love in store, he that moment begins anew and imitates all the notes
which Nature has imparted to the other songsters of the grove.

THE HUMMING-BIRD.

No sooner has the returning sun again introduced the vernal season,
and caused millions of plants to expand their leaves and blossoms to
his genial beams, than the little Humming-Bird is seen advancing on
fairy wings, carefully visiting every opening flower-cup, and, like a
curious florist, removing from each the injurious insects that
otherwise would ere long cause their beauteous petals to droop and
decay. Poised in the air, it is observed peeping cautiously, and with
sparkling eyes, into their innermost recesses, while the ethereal
motions of its pinions, so rapid and so light, appear to fan and cool
the flower, without injuring its fragile texture, and produce a
delightful murmuring sound, well adapted for lulling the insects to
repose. Then is the moment for the Humming-Bird to secure them. Its
long delicate bill enters the cup of the flower, and the protruded
double-tubed tongue, delicately sensible, and imbued with a glutinous
saliva, touches each insect in succession, and draws it from its
lurking place, to be instantly swallowed. All this is done in a
moment, and the bird, as it leaves the flower, sips so small a portion
of its liquid honey, that the theft, we may suppose, is looked upon
with a grateful feeling by the flower, which is thus kindly relieved
from the attacks of her destroyers. . . . . . . . Its gorgeous throat
in beauty and brilliancy baffles all competition. Now it glows with a
fiery hue, and again it is changed to the deepest velvety black. The
upper