3. A crier was sent through the town to and fro,
To rattle his bell and his trumpet to blow,
And to call out to all he might meet in his way,
"Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to day!"
And presently all the old maids in the town,
Each in her very best bonnet and gown,
From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red and pale,
Of every description, all flocked to the sale.

4. The auctioneer then in his labor began,

And called out aloud, as he held up a man,
"How much for a bachelor? who wants to buy?"
In a twink every maiden responded, "I! I!"
In short, at a highly extravagant price,
The bachelors all sold off in a trice;

And forty old maidens, some younger, some older,
Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder!

LUCRETIA DAVIDSON.

XLIV. THE MOCKING-BIRD OF AMERICA.

1. The American mocking-bird is the prince of all song birds, being altogether unrivaled in the extent and variety of his vocal powers; and besides the fullness and melody of his original notes, he has the faculty of imitating the notes of all other birds, from the humming-bird to the eagle.

2. Pennant states that he heard a caged one imitate the mewing of a cat and the creaking of a sign in high winds. Barrington says his pipes come nearest to the nightingale of any bird he ever heard. The description, however, given by Wilson, in his own inimitable manner, as far excels Pennant and Barrington as the bird excels his fellow songster.

3. Wilson tells us that the ease, elegance and rapidity of his movements, the animation of his eye, and the intelligence he displays in listening to and laying up lessons, marks the peculiarity of his genius. His voice is full, strong and musical, and capable of almost every modulation, from the clear, mellow tones of the wood thrush to the savage scream of the bald eagle.

4. In measure and accents he faithfully follows his originals, while in strength and sweetness of expression he greatly improves upon them. In his native woods, upon a dewy morning, his song rises above every competitor; for others appear merely inferior accompaniments.

5. His own notes are bold and full, and varied, seemingly, beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of two, three, or at most five or six, syllables, generally uttered with great emphasis, rapidly, and continued with undiminished ardor for half an hour at a time.

6. While singing, he expands his tail, glistening with white, keeping time to his own music; and the buoyant gayety of his action is no less fascinating than his song. He sweeps around with enthusiastic ecstacy; he mounts and descends, as his song swells or dies away; he bounds aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recall his very soul, expired in the last elevated strain.

7. A bystander might suppose that the whole feathered tribe had assembled together on a trial of skill each striving to produce his utmost effort-so perfect are his imitations. He often deceives the sportsman, and even birds themselves are sometimes imposed upon by this admirable mimic.

8. In confinement he loses little of the power or energy of his song. He whistles for the dog: Cæsar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He cries like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with feathers on end to protect her injured brood.

9. He repeats the tune taught him, though it be of considerable length, with perfect accuracy. He runs over the notes of the canary and the red-bird with such superior execution and effect that the mortified songsters confess his triumph by their immediate silence. His fondness for variety, some suppose, injures his song.

10. His imitation of the brown thrush is often interrupted by the crowing of cocks; and his exquisite warblings after the bluebird are mingled with the screaming of swallows or the cackling of hens. During moonlight both in the wild and tame state, he sings the whole night long. The hunters, in their nocturnal excursions, know that the moon is rising the instant they hear his delightful solo.

11. Barrington attributes, in part, the exquisiteness of the nightingale's song to the silence of the night; but if so, what are we to think of the bird which, in the open glare of day, overpowers and often silences all competition? The natural notes of the American mocking-bird are similar to those of the brown thrush.

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

XLV. THE MOCKING-BIRD'S SONG.

1. Early on a pleasant day

In the poet's month of May,
Field and forest looked so fair,

So refreshing was the air,
That, in spite of morning dew,
Forth I walked where tangling grew

Many a thorn and breezy bush

When the redbreast and the thrush

Gaily raised their early lay,
Thankful for returning day.

2. Every thicket, bush and tree
Swelled the grateful harmony;
As it mildly swept along,
Echo seemed to catch the song;
But the plain was wide and clear
(Echo never whispered here);
From a neighboring mocking-bird
Came the answering notes I heard.
3. Soft and low the song began;
I scarcely caught it as it ran
Through the melancholy trill
Of the plaintive whip-poor-will,
Through the ringdove's gentle wail --
Chattering jay and whistling quail,
Sparrow's twitter, catbird's cry,
Redbird's whistle, robin's sigh:
Blackbird, bluebird, swallow, lark,
Each his native note might mark.

4. Oft he tried the lesson o'er,
Each time louder than before.
Burst at length the finished song;
Loud and clear it poured along;
All the choir in silence heard;
Hushed before this wondrous bird,
All transported and amazed,
Scarcely breathing, long I gazed.

5. Now it reached the loudest swell;
Lower, lower, now it fell,

Lower, lower, lower still;

Scarce it sounded o'er the rill.
Now the warbler ceased to sing,

Then he spread his russet wing,
And I saw him take his flight
Other regions to delight.

J. R. DRAKE.

XLVI. THE AMERICAN INDIAN.

1. Not many generations ago, where you now sit, circled with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your heads, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing on the same moon that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate.

2. Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless; the council fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace.

3. Here, too, they worshiped; and from many a dark bosom went up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of the universe he acknowledged in every thing around.

4. He beheld him in the star that sunk in beauty behind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his mid-day throne; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine that defied a thousand whirlwinds; in the timid warbler that never left its native grove; in the fearless eagle whose untired pinion was wet in clouds; in the worm that crawled at his feet; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that Light to whose mysterious source he bent in humble though blind adoration.