good bird. Didn't he once upon a time tenderly cover with leaves
certain poor little wanderers? Isn't he called "The Bird of the
Morning?" And evening as well, for you can hear his sad voice long
after the sun has himself retired.

The poet Coleridge claims the credit of first using the Owl's cry
in poetry, and his musical note _Tu-whit, tu-who!_ has made him a
favorite with the poets. Tennyson has fancifully played upon it in
his little "Songs to the Owl," the last stanza of which runs:

"I would mock thy chant anew;
But I cannot mimic it,
Not a whit of thy tuhoo,
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit.

With a lengthen'd loud halloo,
Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuhoo-o-o."

But Coleridge was not correct in his claim to precedence in the use of
the Owl's cry, for Shakespeare preceded him, and Tennyson's "First
Song to the Owl" is modeled after that at the end of "Love's Labor
Lost:"

"When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring Owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who, a merry note."

In references to birds, Tennyson is the most felicitous of all poets
and the exquisite swallow-song in "The Princess" is especially
recommended to the reader's perusal.

Birds undoubtedly sing for the same reasons that inspire to utterance
all the animated creatures in the universe. Insects sing and bees,
crickets, locusts, and mosquitos. Frogs sing, and mice, monkeys,
and woodchucks. We have recently heard even an English Sparrow do
something better than chipper; some very pretty notes escaped him,
perchance, because his heart was overflowing with love-thoughts, and
he was very merry, knowing that his affection was reciprocated. The
elevated railway stations, about whose eaves the ugly, hastily built
nests protrude everywhere, furnish ample explanation of his reasons
for singing.

Birds are more musical at certain times of the day as well as at
certain seasons of the year. During the hour between dawn and sunrise
occurs the grand concert of the feathered folk. There are no concerts
during the day--only individual songs. After sunset there seems to be
an effort to renew the chorus, but it cannot be compared to the
morning concert when they are practically undisturbed by man.

Birds sing because they are happy. Bradford Torrey has given with much
felicity his opinion on the subject, as follows:

"I recall a Cardinal Grosbeak, whom I heard several y