in possession of one which had been shot by a neighbor," etc. Randolph
pronounced it a flycatcher, which was a good way wide of the mark.
Jefferson must have seen only the female, after all his tramp, from his
description of the color; but he was doubtless following his own great
thoughts more than the bird, else he would have had an earlier view. The
bird was not a new one, but was well known then as the ground-robin. The
President put Wilson on the wrong scent by his erroneous description,
and it was a long time before the latter got at the truth of the case.
But Jefferson's letter is a good sample of those which specialists often
receive from intelligent persons who have seen or heard something in
their line very curious or entirely new, and who set the man of science
agog by a description of the supposed novelty,--a description that
generally fits the facts of the case about as well as your coat fits the
chair-back. Strange and curious things in the air, and in the water, and
in the earth beneath, are seen every day except by those who are looking
for them, namely, the naturalists. When Wilson or Audubon gets his eye
on the unknown bird, the illusion vanishes, and your phenomenon turns
out to be one of the commonplaces of the fields or woods.

A prominent April bird, that one does not have to go to the woods or
away from his own door to see and hear, is the hardy and ever-welcome
meadowlark. What a twang there is about this bird, and what vigor! It
smacks of the soil. It is the winged embodiment of the spirit of our
spring meadows. What emphasis in its _"z-d-t, z-d-t"_ and what character
in its long, piercing note! Its straight, tapering, sharp beak is
typical of its voice. Its note goes like a shaft from a crossbow; it
is a little too sharp and piercing when near at hand, but, heard in the
proper perspective, it is eminently melodious and pleasing. It is one
of the major notes of the fields at this season. In fact, it easily
dominates all others. _"Spring o' the year! spring o' the year!"_ it
says, with a long-drawn breath, a little plaintive, but not complaining
or melancholy. At times it indulges in something much more intricate and
lark-like while hovering on the wing in midair, but a song is beyond the
compass of its instrument, and the attempt usually ends in a breakdown.
A clear, sweet, strong, high-keyed note, uttered from some knoll or
rock, or stake in the fence, is its proper vocal performance. It has the