uedle, has unquestionably great talents as a
musician. In the grand concert of Nature it is he who performs the
_recitative_ parts, which he delivers with the utmost fluency and
rapidity; and one must be a careful listener, not to lose many of his
words. He is plainly the merriest of all the feathered creation, almost
continually in motion, and singing upon the wing, apparently in the
greatest ecstasy of joy.

There is not a plaintive strain in his whole performance. Every sound
is as merry as the laugh of a young child; and one cannot listen to him
without fancying that he is indulging in some jocose raillery of his
companions. If we suppose him to be making love, we cannot look upon
him as very deeply enamored, but rather as highly delighted with his
spouse, and overflowing with rapturous admiration. The object of his
love is a neatly formed bird, with a mild expression of countenance, a
modest and amiable deportment, and arrayed in the plainest apparel. It
is evident that she does not pride herself upon the splendor of her
costume, but rather on its neatness, and on her own feminine graces.
She must be entirely without vanity, unless we suppose that it is
gratified by observing the pomp and display which are made by her
partner, and by listening to his delightful eloquence of song: for if
we regard him as an orator, it must be allowed that he is unsurpassed
in fluency and rapidity of utterance; and if we regard him only as a
musician, he is unrivalled in brilliancy of execution.

Vain are all attempts, on the part of other birds, to imitate his truly
original style. The Mocking-bird gives up the attempt in despair, and
refuses to sing at all when confined near one in a cage. I cannot look
upon him as ever in a very serious humor. He seems to be a lively,
jocular little fellow, who is always jesting and bantering, and when
half a dozen different individuals are sporting about in the same
orchard, I often imagine that they might represent the persons
dramatized in some comic opera. These birds never remain stationary
upon the bough of a tree, singing apparently for their own solitary
amusement; but they are ever in company, and passing to and fro, often
commencing their song upon the extreme end of the bough of an
apple-tree, then suddenly taking flight, and singing the principal part
while balancing themselves on the wing. The merriest part of the day
with these birds is the later afternoon, during the hour preceding