y to be accounted a musician, does seem to be somewhat blameworthy.
Once in a while, it is true, he takes a perch and sings; but for the
most part he is contented with a few simple notes, having no semblance
of a tune. Possibly he holds that his pure contralto voice (I do not
remember ever to have heard from him any note of a soprano, or even of a
mezzo-soprano quality) ought by itself to be a sufficient distinction;
but I think it likelier that his slight attempt at music is only one
manifestation of the habitual reserve which, more than anything else
perhaps, may be said to characterize him. How differently he and the
robin impress us in this particular! Both take up their abode in our
door-yards and orchards; the bluebird goes so far, indeed, as to accept
our hospitality outright, building his nest in boxes put up for his
accommodation, and making the roofs of our houses his favorite perching
stations. But, while the robin is noisily and jauntily familiar, the
bluebird maintains a dignified aloofness; coming and going about the
premises, but keeping his thoughts to himself, and never becoming one of
us save by the mere accident of local proximity. The robin, again, loves
to travel in large flocks, when household duties are over for the
season; but although the same has been reported of the bluebird, I have
never myself seen such a thing, and am satisfied that, as a rule, this
gentle spirit finds a family party of six or seven company enough. His
reticence, as we cheerfully admit, is nothing to quarrel with; it is all
well-bred, and not in the least unkindly; in fact, we like it, on the
whole, rather better than the robin's pertness and garrulity; but, none
the less, its natural consequence is that the bird has small concern for
musical display. When he sings, it is not to gain applause, but to
express his affection; and while, in one aspect of the case, there is
nothing out of the way in this,--since his affection need not be the
less deep and true because it is told in few words and with unadorned
phrase,--yet, as I said to begin with, it is hard not to feel that the
world is being defrauded, when for any reason, however amiable, the
possessor of such a matchless voice has no ambition to make the most of
it.

It is always a double pleasure to find a plodding, humdrum-seeming man
with a poet's heart in his breast; and a little of the same delighted
surprise is felt by every one, I imagine, when he learns for the first