well-directed missile, in the shape of a stone, brought him looping
and writhing to the ground. After I had completed his downfall and
quiet had been partially restored, a half-fledged member of the
bereaved household came out from his hiding-place, and, jumping upon a
decayed branch, chirped vigorously, no doubt in celebration of the
victory.

Till the middle of July there is a general equilibrium; the tide
stands poised; the holiday spirit is unabated. But as the harvest
ripens beneath the long, hot days, the melody gradually ceases. The
young are out of the nest and must be cared for, and the moulting
season is at hand. After the cricket has commenced to drone his
monotonous refrain beneath your window, you will not, till another
season, hear the wood thrush in all his matchless eloquence. The
bobolink has become careworn and fretful, and blurts out snatches of
his song between his scolding and upbraiding, as you approach the
vicinity of his nest, oscillating between anxiety for his brood and
solicitude for his musical reputation. Some of the sparrows still
sing, and occasionally across the hot fields, from a tall tree in the
edge of the forest, comes the rich note of the scarlet tanager. This
tropical-colored bird loves the hottest weather, and I hear him even
in dog-days.

The remainder of the summer is the carnival of the swallows and
flycatchers. Flies and insects, to any amount, are to be had for the
catching; and the opportunity is well improved. See that sombre,
ashen-colored pewee on yonder branch. A true sportsman he, who never
takes his game at rest, but always on the wing. You vagrant fly, you
purblind moth, beware how you come within his range! Observe his
attitude, the curious movement of his head, his "eye in a fine frenzy