and was of course all the more noticeable for being projected upon
such a broad unoccupied page of silence. Its song is like the words,
fe-o, fe-o, fe-o, few, few, few, fee fee fee, uttered at first high
and leisurely, but running very rapidly toward the close, which is low
and soft.

Still keeping among the unrecognized, the white-eyed vireo, or
flycatcher, deserves particular mention. The song of this bird is not
particularly sweet and soft; on the contrary, it is a little hard and
shrill, like that of the indigo-bird or oriole; but for brightness,
volubility, execution, and power of imitation, he is unsurpassed by
any of our northern birds. His ordinary note is forcible and emphatic,
but, as stated, not especially musical; Chick-a-re'r-chick, he seems
to say, hiding himself in the low, dense undergrowth, and eluding your
most vigilant search, as if playing some part in a game. But in July
of August, if you are on good terms with the sylvan deities, you may
listen to a far more rare and artistic performance. Your first
impression will be that that cluster of azalea, or that clump of
swamp-huckleberry, conceals three of four different songsters, each
vying with the the others to lead the chorus. Such a medley of notes,
snatched from half the songsters of the field and forest, and uttered
with the utmost clearness and rapidity, I am sure you cannot hear
short of the haunts of the genuine mockingbird. If not fully and
accurately repeated, there are at least suggested the notes of the
robin, wren, catbird, high-hole, goldfinch, and song sparrow. The pip,
pip, of the last is produced so accurately that I verily believe it
would deceive the bird herself; and the whole uttered in such rapid
succession that it seems as if the movement that gives the concluding
note of one strain must form the first note of the next. The effect is
very rich, and, to my ear, entirely unique. The performer is very