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rise. All this time the fish was shooting like an arrow through the lake, carrying his relentless foe on his back. He could not keep the eagle down, nor the bird carry him up; and so, now beneath, and now upon the surface, they struggled on, presenting one of the most singular yet exciting spectacles that can be imagined. It was fearful to witness the blows of the eagle, as he lashed the lake with his wings into spray, and made the shores echo with the report.

6. At last the bird thinking, as they say in the West, that he had "waked the wrong passenger," gave it up, and loosening his clutch, soared heavily and slowly away to his lofty pine tree, where he sat for a long time sullen and sulky, the picture of disappointed ambition. So might a wounded and baffled lion lie down in his lair and brood over his defeat. Beach said that he could easily have captured them, but he thought he would see the fight out.

7. When, however, they both staid under half a minute. or more, he concluded he should never see his eagle again. Whether the latter in his rage was bent on capturing his prize, and would retain his hold, though at the hazard of his life, or whether in his terrible swoop he had stuck his crooked talons so deep in the back of the salmon that he could not extricate' himself, the hunter said he could not tell. The latter, however, was doubtless the truth, and he would have been glad to have let go long before he did.

1 HOS-TIL'I-Ty. Enmity; hatred.
• PIN'IONS (-yunş). Joints of the wing
furthest from the body; wings.

4 TXL'ONS. The claws of birds of prey, 5 SWOOP. A sudden, sweeping de

scent.

WATCH TOWER (woch). A tower 6 RE-LENT'LESS. Pitiless; cruel. 7 EX'TRI-CATE. Disembarrass; free,

or high point for watching.

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LXXII.—THE MOCKING BIRD.

ALEXANDER WILSON.

Alexander Wilson was born in Paisley, Scotland, in 1766, removed to this country in 1794, and died in 1813. The first volume of his American Ornithology was published in September, 1808. To collect the materials for this work he made extensive tours through all parts of the country, which were attended with severe toil and frequent exposure. It was much and deservedly admired for the brilliant execution of the plates and the admirable letter-press descrip tions. Six additional volumes were published before Wilson's death, and two more volumes were completed and published by his friend, Mr. George Ord, in 1814.]

1. THE plumage of the mocking bird, though none of the homeliest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it, and had he nothing else to recommend him, would scarcely entitle him to notice; but his figure is well proportioned, and even handsome. The ease, elegance, and rapidity of his movements, the animation of his eye, and the intelligence he displays in listening, and laying up lessons from almost every species of the feathered creation within his hearing, are really surprising, and mark the peculiarity of his genius. To these qualities we may add that of a voice full, strong, and musical, and capable of almost every modulation, from the clear, mellow tones of the wood thrush to the savage screams of the bald eagle.

2. In measure and accent he faithfully follows his origi nals. In force and sweetness of expression he greatly improves upon them. In his native groves, mounted upon the top of a tall bush or half-grown tree, in the dawn of dewy morning, while the woods are already vocal with a multitude of warblers, his admirable song rises preeminent over every competitor. The ear can listen to his music alone, to which that of all the others seems a mere accompaniment. Neither is this strain altogether imitative.

3. His own native notes, which are easily distinguishable by such as are well acquainted with those of our various birds of song, are bold and full, and varied, seemingly,

beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of two, three, or, at the most, five or six syllables, generally interspersed with imitations, and all of them uttered with great emphasis and rapidity, and continued, with undiminished ardor, for half an hour or an hour at a time; his expanded wings and tail glistening with white, and the buoyant gayety of his action arresting the eye, as his song most irresistibly does the ear.

4. He sweeps round with enthusiastic ecstasy; he mounts and descends, as his song swells or dies away; and, as my friend Mr. Bartram has beautifully expressed it, "he bounds aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recall his very soul, which expired in the last elevated strain." While thus exerting himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, would suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled together on a trial of skill, each striving to produce its utmost effect imitations.

so perfect are his

5. He very often deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search of birds that perhaps are not within miles of him, but whose notes he exactly imitates. Even birds themselves are frequently imposed on by this admirable mimic, and are decoyed by the fancied calls of their mates. or dive, with precipitation, into the depths of thickets, at the scream of what they suppose to be the sparrow hawk.

6. The mocking bird loses little of the power and energy of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, when he commences his career of song, it is impossible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Cæsar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken; and the hen hurries about, with hanging wings and bristled feathers, clucking to protect her injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of a passing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and rapidity.

7. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable length, fully and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the Virginia nightingale or redbird, with such superior execution and effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority, and become altogether silent, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions. 8. This excessive fondness for variety, however, in the opinion of some, injures his song. His elevated imitations of the brown thrush are frequently interrupted by the crowing of cocks; and the warblings of the bluebird, which he exquisitely manages, are mingled with the screaming of swallows, or the cackling of hens; amidst the simple melody of the robin, we are suddenly surprised by the shrill reiterations of the whip-poor-will; while the notes of the killdeer, bluejay, martin, baltimore, and twenty others, succeed, with such imposing reality, that we look round for the originals, and discover, with astonishment, that the sole performer, in this singular concert, is the admirable bird now before us.

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9. During this exhibition of his powers, he spreads his wings, expands his tail, and throws himself around the cage in all the ecstasy of enthusiasm, seeming not only to sing, but to dance, keeping time to the measure of his own music. Both in his native and domesticated state, during the solemn stillness of the night, as soon as the moon rises in silent majesty, he begins his delightful solo', and serenades us the livelong night with a full display of his vocal powers, making the whole neighborhood ring with his inimitable melody.

downwards; headlong haste

I IN-TER-SPËRSED'. Having some. 4 PRE-CIP-ITA'TION. Rapid motion thing else scattered in between ; scattered here and there, so as to diversify; intermingled.

2 EC'STA-SY. Overpowering emotion;
excessive joy; rapture.
CE-LER'I-Ty. Swiftness.

5 Ex'QUI-ŞÏTE-LY. Most excellently.
6 RE-IT-ER-A'TION. A doing again
and again; repetition.

7 Sō'Lō. A tune or air for a single
voice or instrument.

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TELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar,
Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more?
Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west,
Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest?
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,

And sighed for pity, as it answered - "No."

2.

Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play,
Know'st thou some favored spot, some island far away,
Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs
Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies?

The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer “No.”

3.

And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face,
Dost look upon the earth asleep in night's embrace,
Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot
Where miserable man might find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,

And a voice, sweet but sad, responded — "No."

4.

Tell me, my secret soul, O, tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin, and death?
Is there no happy spot where mortals may be blessed,
Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest?

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,
Waved their bright wings, and whispered-"YES, IN
HEAVEN!"
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