always canting about
genius--and who would probably deny this gift to the Robin, because he
cannot cry like a chicken or squall like a cat, and because with his
charming strains he does not mingle all sorts of discords and
incongruous sounds--for assigning to the Robin the highest rank as a
singing-bird. Let them say of him, in the cant of modern criticism,
that his performances cannot be great, because they are faultless; it
is enough for me, that his mellow notes, heard at the earliest flush of
morning, in the more busy hour of noon, or the quiet lull of evening,
come upon the ear in a stream of unqualified melody, as if he had
learned to sing under the direct instruction of that beautiful Dryad
who taught the Lark and the Nightingale. The Robin is surpassed by
certain birds in some particular qualities. The Mocking-bird has more
power, the Red Thrush more variety, the Vesper-bird more execution, and
the Bobolink more animation; but each of these birds has more faults
than the Robin, and would be less esteemed as a constant companion, a
vocalist for all hours, whose strains never tire and never offend.

There are thousands who admire the Mocking-bird, because, after pouring
forth a continued stream of ridiculous and disagreeable sounds, or a
series of two or three notes repeated more than a hundred times in
uninterrupted and monotonous succession, he condescends to utter a
single delightfully modulated strain. He often brings his tiresome
_extravaganzas_ to a magnificent climax of melody, and just as often
concludes an inimitable chant with a most contemptible bathos. But the
notes of the Robin are all melodious, all delightful,--loud without
vociferation, mellow without monotony, fervent without ecstasy, and
combining more of mellowness of tone, plaintiveness, cheerfulness, and
propriety of execution, than those of any other bird.

The Robin is the Philomel of our spring and summer mornings in New
England, and in all the country north and west of these States. Without
his sweet notes, the mornings would be like a vernal landscape without
flowers, or a summer-evening sky without tints. He is the chief
performer in the delightful anthem that welcomes the rising day. Of the
others, the best are but accompaniments of more or less importance.
Remove the Robin from this woodland orchestra, and it would be left
without a _soprano_. Over all the northern parts of this continent,
wherever there are any human settlements, the