happiness, keeping time with his wings as he flutters and dives along, that one cannot help feeling he is about to go all to pieces in his ecstasy; be verily fragmented into sweet sounds!

But no such thing; he's a tough little preacher of cheerfulness, and holds together with all that riotous, jolly rantipole.

Ah, how we have laughed on a spring morning, to witness his delirious bliss, as he went exhorting by, to his soberer neighbors, about love and sunshine, the dew and flowers; bugs and caterpillars too, no doubt!

"Hail to thee, blithe spirit!"-thou embodied joy! winged laughter!-pleasant indeed is thy faith of mirth, and wiser far than that of canting! Mr. Audubon gives a felicitous account of the funny, ingenious ways of this jollificating Reverend.

"No sooner have they reached the portion of the country in which they intend to remain during the time of raising their young, than these birds exhibit all the liveliness and vivacity belonging to their nature. The male is seen rising in the air from ten to twenty yards in an indirect manner, jerking his tail and body, flapping his wings, and singing with remarkable impetuosity, as if under the influence of haste, and anxious to return to the tree from which he has departed. He accordingly descends with the same motions of the body and tail, repeating his pleasing song as he alights. These gambols and carollings are performed frequently during the day, the intervals being employed in ascending or descending along the branches and twigs of different trees, in search of insects or larvæ. In doing this, they rise on their legs, seldom without jetting the tail, stretch the neck, seize the prey, and emit a single note, which is sweet and mellow, although in power much inferior to that of the Baltimore. At other times, it is seen bending its body downwards, in a curved posture, with the head gently inclined upwards, to peep at the under parts of the leaves, so as not to suffer any grub to escape its vigilance. It now alights on the ground, where it

has spied a crawling insect, and again flies towards the blossoms, in which many are lurking, and devours hundreds of them each day; thus contributing to secure to the farmer the hopes which he has of the productiveness of his orchard.

"The arrival of the females is marked with all due regard, and the males immediately use every effort in their power to procure from them a return of attention. Their singings and tricks are performed with redoubled ardor, until they are paired, when nidification is attended to with the utmost activity. They resort to the meadows, or search along the fences for the finest, longest, and toughest grasses they can find, and having previously fixed on a spot, either on an apple-tree, or amidst the drooping branches of the weepingwillow, they begin by attaching the grass firmly and neatly to the twigs more immediately around the chosen place. The filaments are twisted, passed over and under, and interwoven in such a manner as to defy the eye of a man to follow their windings. All this is done by the bill of the bird, in the manner used by the Baltimore Oriole. The nest is of a hemispherical form, and is supported by the margin only. It seldom exceeds three or four inches in depth, is open almost to the full extent of its largest diameter at the top or entrance, and finished on all sides, as well as within, with the long slender grasses already mentioned. Some of these go round the nest several times, as if coarsely woven together. This is the manner in which the nest is constructed in Louisiana in the Middle Districts it is usually lined with soft and warm materials."

On the whole, in this instance, we like the Southern Parson best; for, in addition to being quite as facetious and lov ing as Master Rob, he proves to be a much better citizen; for his admirers, instead of having their sense of propriety shocked, in seeing him turn wholesale plunderer, are told of his "contributing to secure to the farmer his hopes of the productiveness of his orchard."

We would advise all ironside philosophers, catechism in

hand, to go to the Sunday school, (for all days are Sundays to him) where this little Parson teaches :-it is possible such may learn of more things there than they have dreamed of yet.

In addition to the healthful tonic of his laughing ethics, through which their lank sides may grow to shake with fat, perhaps the Parson, in exhibiting the process by which that woven domicil of his is constructed, may enlighten them as to the absurdity of certain dogmatisms concerning instinct.

Beside the consummate and delicate skill with which he plies the long, fibrous thread, with small feet and needle-like bill, weaving, plaiting, sewing-there is something in that facility of adaptation, which, in Louisiana, exhibits the nest "coarsely woven," that the air may pass through, and in the middle States "lined with soft and warm materials," that so curiously resembles "reasoning;" that is amazingly like an independent volition, guided by the familiar and simple process of "Induction !" Who knows? "A little bird told me so!"

The Parson is indignantly eloquent upon these points sometimes. He says that he displays quite as much judgment and more foresight, in selecting the locality and material of his house, than we "animals on two legs, without feathers" ever do; that he is bred to be a better artist than one in a thousand of us; that Orioles are no more compelled, by a resistless impulse, to build their houses in a particular way, without understanding the reason why, than the Hindoos are, to build Pagodas; that he does understand the reason perfectly, and it is the plainest imaginable one.

This particular form is chosen, because it suits his habits, tastes, and mode of life best, and that, the Chinaman, who has built his house in the same way (so far as we know) for three thousand years, can give no better reason.

That though a particular outline suits him best, and suited his forefathers the best, yet they have been in the habit of altering the construction and material; and he knows why,

clearly enough, that in a hot climate it would not do to make them close and warm, or in a cold climate, open.

It stands to reason, in the one case, that the young would be suffocated, in the other, frozen.

Furthermore, continues the orator, it is all fal lal! the assertion that my young are taught by any such thing as ininstinct when to pierce the shell; the principle of life has germinated, as it does in a grain of corn, in a certain number of days, under the warmth of my breast, and when the little fellows begin to get strong, they kick and scuffle in their prison, and a small sharp cone, on the top of the beak, (which was put there for the purpose, and drops off in a few days,) soon cracks the shell, while they are struggling, and then we help them out.

And furthermore, my younglings are just as innocently silly as your younglings, or any other young geese, and will run into the water, or into the fire just as soon as others, until they have burnt their toes, or got themselves halfdrowned for their curiosity, and then, as this is not pleasant, they are satisfied to keep themselves out of such scrapes.

Do I not go with them all the summer, keeping them out of difficulties, coaxing and scolding, learning them how to fly, how to catch bugs, chase butterflies, find caterpillars, to hide from their enemies, plume themselves, and sing; and can't you understand, that yet, though I cannot speak Hebrew or English, I speak the Oriole tongue, and learn them to speak and comprehend it, that I may teach them the morals and religion of the Orioles!

Faugh! instinct indeed! Don't you perceive they are regularly educated? If you great, stupid, clumsy animals, only had feathers on, there might be a faint hope of your learning something!

We think this will be recognized as a very unctuous and edifying discourse of our Parson's; such are his more didatic teachings; of the others you have heard.

But we must confess that the Parson, with all our respect

for him, has certainly some very mysterious ways. Mr. Audubon plainly intimates, that in common with all spirited young "bloods," he is frequently "disguised," and that it requires several years for him to take upon himself the "sober, outward seeming" of his tribe or profession.

The whole extent of the curious and interesting charge the Naturalist brings against him, may be gathered from the passage we give below; premising that he speaks of him as the "Orchard," while we know him as the "Parson Oriole."

"The plumage of many species of our birds undergoes at times very extraordinary changes. Some, such as the male Tanagers, which during the summer months exhibit the most vivid scarlet and velvety black, assume a dingy green before they leave the country, on their way southward. The Goldfinch nearly changes to the same color, after having been seen in the gay apparel of yellow and black. The Rice Bird loses its lively brightness until the return of spring. Others take several years before they complete their plumage, so as to show the true place which they hold among the other species, as is the case with the Ibis, the Flamingo, and many other Waders, as well as with several of our land birds, among which, kind reader, the species now under your consideration is probably that in which these gradual improvements are most observable by such persons as reside in the country inhabited by them.

"The plumage of the young birds of this species, when they leave the nest, resembles that of the female parent, although rather less decided in point of coloring, and both males and females retain this color until the approach of the following spring, when the former exhibit a portion of black on the chin, the females never altering. In birds kept in cages, this portion of black remains without farther augmentation for two years; but in those which are at liberty, a curious mixture of dull orange or deep chesnut peeps out through a considerable increase of black-colored feathers over the body and wings, intermixed with the yellowish