ll the rest, or upon whom the
quickening ray of spring has first fallen. And it often happens that
he is stoned for his pains by the yet unpacified element, and is
compelled literally to "shut up" beneath a fall of snow or a heavy
frost. Soon, however, he lifts up his voice again with more
confidence, and is joined by others and still others, till in due
time, say toward the last of the month, there is a shrill musical
uproar, as the sun is setting, in every marsh and bog in the land. It
is a plaintive sound, and I have heard people from the city speak of
it as lonesome and depressing, but to the lover of the country it is a
pure spring melody. The little piper will sometimes climb a bulrush,
to which he clings like a sailor to a mast, and send forth his shrill
call. There is a Southern species, heard when you have reached the
Potomac, whose note is far more harsh and crackling. To stand on the
verge of a swamp vocal with these, pains and stuns the ear. The call
of the Northern species is far more tender and musical.[1]

[1] The Southern species is called the green hyla. I have
since heard them in my neighborhood on the Hudson.

Then is there anything like a perfect April morning? One hardly knows
what the sentiment of it is, but it is something very delicious. It is
youth and hope. It is a new earth and a new sky. How the air transmits
sounds, and what an awakening, prophetic character all sounds have!
The distant barking of a dog, or the lowing of a cow, or the crowing
of a cock, seems from out the heart of Nature, and to be a call to
come forth. The great sun appears to have been reburnished, and there
is something in his first glance above the eastern hills, and the way
his eye-beams dart right and left and smite the rugged mountains into
gold, that quickens the pulse and inspires the heart.

Across the fields in the early morning I hear some of the rare April
birds,--the chewink and the brown thrasher. The robin, bluebird, song
sparrow, phoebe-bird, etc., come in March; but these two ground-birds
are seldom heard till toward the last of April. The ground-birds are
all tree-singers or air singers; they must have an elevated stage to
speak from. Our long-tailed thrush, or thrasher, like its congeners
the catbird and mocking-bird, delights in a high branch of some
solitary tree, whence it will pour out its rich and intricate warble
for an hour together. This bird is the great American chipper. There
is no o