ach performer sings only a few strains
and then makes a pause, the whole multitude succeed one another with such
rapidity that we hear an uninterrupted flow of music until the broad light
of day invites them to other employments.

When there is just light enough to distinguish the birds, we may observe,
here and there, a single swallow perched on the roof of a barn or shed,
repeating two twittering notes incessantly, with a quick turn and a hop at
every note he utters. It would seem to be the design of the bird to
attract the attention of his mate, and this motion seems to be made to
assist her in discovering his position. As soon as the light has tempted
him to fly abroad, this twittering strain is uttered more like a continued
song, as he flits rapidly through the air.

But at this later moment the purple martins have commenced their more
melodious chattering, so loud as to attract for a while the most of our
attention. There is not a sound in nature so cheering and animating as the
song of the purple martin, and none so well calculated to drive away
melancholy. Though not one of the earliest voices to be heard, the chorus
is perceptibly more loud and effective when this bird has united with the
choir.

When the flush of the morning has brightened into vermilion, and the place
from which the sun is soon to emerge has attained a dazzling brilliancy,
the robins are already less tuneful. They are now becoming busy in
collecting food for their morning repast, and one by one they leave the
trees, and may be seen hopping upon the tilled ground, in quest of the
worms and insects that, have crept out during the night from their
subterranean retreats.

But as the robins grow silent, the bobolinks begin their vocal revelries;
and to a fanciful mind it might seem that the robins had gradually
resigned their part in the performance to the bobolinks, not one of which
is heard until some of the former have concluded their songs. The little
hairbird still continues his almost incessant chirping, the first to begin
and the last to quit the performance. Though the voice of this bird is not
very sweetly modulated, it blends harmoniously with the notes of other
birds, and greatly increases the charming effect of the combination.

It would be tedious to name all the birds that take part in this chorus;
but we must not omit the pewee, with his melancholy ditty, occasionally
heard like a short minor strain in an oratorio; nor the oriol