music and come to take a peep at him; how she would be captivated
by his size and beauty; how she would come timidly, but come, of
course, for his approval; how he would condescend to accept her
if she pleased him in all particulars; how she would be devoted
to him; and how she would approve his choice of a home, for the
sumac was in a lovely spot for scenery, as well as nest-building.

For several days he had boasted, he had bantered, he had
challenged, he had on this last day almost condescended to
coaxing, but not one little bright-eyed cardinal female had come
to offer herself.

The performance of a brown thrush drove him wild with envy. The
thrush came gliding up the river bank, a rusty-coated, sneaking
thing of the underbrush, and taking possession of a thorn bush
just opposite the sumac, he sang for an hour in the open. There
was no way to improve that music. It was woven fresh from the
warp and woof of his fancy. It was a song so filled with the joy
and gladness of spring, notes so thrilled with love's pleading
and passion's tender pulsing pain, that at its close there were a
half-dozen admiring thrush females gathered around. With care
and deliberation the brown thrush selected the most attractive,
and she followed him to the thicket as if charmed.

It was the Cardinal's dream materialized for another before his
very eyes, and it filled him with envy. If that plain brown bird
that slinked as if he had a theft to account for, could, by
showing himself and singing for an hour, win a mate, why should
not he, the most gorgeous bird of the woods, openly flaunting his
charms and discoursing his music, have at least equal success?