petulance of his disappointment, may pronounce all that I have recorded
of that once favored region a fable.


* * * * *

THE BIRDS OF SPRING.

BY GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT.

My quiet residence in the country, aloof from fashion, politics, and the
money market, leaves me rather at a loss for important occupation, and
drives me to the study of nature, and other low pursuits. Having few
neighbors, also, on whom to keep a watch, and exercise my habits of
observation, I am fain to amuse myself with prying into the domestic
concerns and peculiarities of the animals around me; and, during the
present season, have derived considerable entertainment from certain
sociable little birds, almost the only visitors we have, during this
early part of the year.

Those who have passed the winter in the country, are sensible of the
delightful influences that accompany the earliest indications of spring;
and of these, none are more delightful than the first notes of the
birds. There is one modest little sad-colored bird, much resembling a
wren, which came about the house just on the skirts of winter, when not
a blade of grass was to be seen, and when a few prematurely warm days
had given a flattering foretaste of soft weather. He sang early in the
dawning, long before sun-rise, and late in the evening, just before the
closing in of night, his matin and his vesper hymns. It is true, he sang
occasionally throughout the day; but at these still hours, his song was