ste as an
artist. I am the more forcibly reminded of his deficiency in this
respect from observing yonder Humming-Bird's nest, which is a marvel of
fitness and adaptation, a proper setting for this winged gem,--the body
of it composed of a white, felt-like substance, probably the down of
some plant or the wool of some worm, and toned down in keeping with the
branch on which it sits by minute tree-lichens, woven together by
threads as fine and frail as gossamer. From Robin's good looks and
musical turn we might reasonably predict a domicil of equal fitness and
elegance. At least I demand of him as clean and handsome a nest as the
King-Bird's, whose harsh jingle, compared with Robin's evening melody,
is as the clatter of pots and kettles beside the tone of a flute. I love
his note and ways better even than those of the Orchard-Starling or the
Baltimore Oriole; yet his nest, compared with theirs, is a
half-subterranean hut contrasted with a Roman villa. There is something
courtly and poetical in a pensile nest. Next to a castle in the air is a
dwelling suspended to the slender branch of a tall tree, swayed and
rocked forever by the wind. Why need wings be afraid of falling? Why
build only where boys can climb? After all, we must set it down to the
account of Robin's democratic turn; he is no aristocrat, but one of the
people; and therefore we should expect stability in his workmanship,
rather than elegance.

Another April bird, which makes her appearance sometimes earlier and
sometimes later than Robin, and whose memory I fondly cherish, is the
Phoebe-Bird, (_Muscicapa nunciola_,) the pioneer of the Flycatchers.
In the inland farming districts, I used to notice her, on some bright
morning about Easter-day, proclaiming her arrival with much variety of
motion and attitude, from the peak of the barn or hay-shed. As yet, you
may have heard only the plaintive, homesick note of the Bluebird, or the
faint trill of the Song-Sparrow; and Phoebe's clear, vivacious
assurance of her veritable bodily presence among us again is welcomed by
all ears. At agreeable intervals in her lay she describes a circle or an
ellipse in the air, ostensibly prospecting for insects, but really, I
suspect, as an artistic flourish, thrown in to make up in some way for
the deficiency of her musical performance. If plainness of dress
indicates powers of song, as it usually does, then Phoebe ought to be
unrivalled in musical ability, for surely that ashen-gr