Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1855-04-05

little songs.er, and dashed the hilarity Of
the household; yet still he poured forth
now and then, few plaintiff notes, between
the frosty pipines Of the breeze, like CLEANS
Of sunshine between win.ry clouds.
have consulted my book Of orni,hology
in vain to find out the name Of this kindly
little bird, who certainly deserves honor and
favor far beyond his modest pretenslons.-'
He comes like the lowly violet, the most
unpretending, bu, welcomest of flowers,
breathing the sweet promise Of the early
year.
Another Of our fea,hered visitors, who
follow close upon the steps Of winter, is the
Pc wit, or Pe-wee, or Phoebe bid for he is
called by each Of these names, from fan
cied resemblance TO the sound Of his mono
tonous note. He is a social lille being,
and seeks The habi,ation OF men. A pair of
them have bull, beneath my porch, and have
reared several broods there for two years
past, their nest being never disturbed. They
arrive early in the spring, just when the
crocus and the snowdrop begin to peep
forth. Their first cbirp sends glsdness
through the house. The Phoebe birds have
come! is heard on all sides they are well
Come back like members Of the family and
speculations ere made upon where they
have been and what countries they have
seen, during their long absence. Their ar.
rival is the more cheering, as it is snnoun
ced by the old wea,her-wise people of the
country, the sure sign the severe frosts are
a. an end, and that the gardner may resume
his lobors with confidence.
About this lime, too, arrives the bIue-brd,
SO POLITICALLY ye. truly described by Wilson.
His appearance glsddens The whole land
scspe. You hear his sof, wsrble in every
field. He socially approaches your hsbi,a-
lion, and takes up his residence in your vi
ciniry.
The happiest bird Of our spring however,
and one .hst.rivsls the Europeon lsrk in my
estimation, is The Boblincin or Boblink, as
he Is commonly called. He arrives al that
choice portion Of our year, which, in this
latitude, answers 10 the description Of the
month Of May, SO often given by the poets.
With us, i, begins about the middle of May,
and lasts until nearly the middle Of June
Earlier than this winter is apt to return on
lis traces, and to bligh. the opening beauties
Of tbeSyesr !; and later than this, begin the
parching, and painting, and dissolving heats
Of summer. Blu. in this genial interval, na-
ture is in ell her freshness and fragrance !;
the rains are over and gone, the flowers ap-
pear upon the earth, the time of The singing
| of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle
is heard in the land. The ,ress are now in
their IulIes. foliage and brightest verdure :;
the woods are gay with the clustered flow
ers Of The laurel the sir is perfumed by the
swee,-brisr and wild rose the meadows are
enamelled with clover blossoms while the
young apple, the peach, aad the plum, be-
gin to swell, and The cherry TO glow, among
the green leaves.
This is the chosen season Of revelry Of
the Boblink. He comes smids. the pomp
and fragance Of the season; HE life seems
ell sensibiIi,y and enjoyment, oil song and
sunshine. He is to be found in The sof, bo-
SONS of the freshest and swee,es. meadows;
and is most in song. " hen the clover is in
blossom. He perches on the topmos. .wig
Of Tree, or on some long haun.ing weed,
end as he rises and sinks with the breeze,
pours forth succession Of rich ,inklIng
notes crowding one upon ano.her, like the
ou'poting melody of the skylsrk, end pos
sessing the same rap.urous character. Some.
times he pitches from a summit of a tree
begins his song as soon ss he gets upon the
wing, and ful,ers nemulonsly down to the
earth, as If overcome with ecs,acy q, bis
own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit oI
his psramour always in full song, as if he
would win her by his melody, and always
with the same appearance of in.oxica'iou
and delight.
OF ell the birds Of our groves and mead
ows, the Boblnk was the envy of my boy
hood. He crossed my path in the swee,es
weather, and the sweetes. season of the year
when ell nature called 10 The fields, and The
rural feeling ,hrobbed in every bosom bu
when ], luckess urchn ! wss doomed TO bs
mewed up, during The live long day, in thai
purgatory of boyhood, a school-room, j
seemed a. If the varlet Knocked q, me, as ht
flew by in full song, end sought 10 .aun. mt
with his happier lot. Oh, how ! envieC
him! No lessons, no task, no hateful school
nothing but holiday, frolic, green 6elds, anG
fine weather. Had then been more verset
in poetry, ! might have addressed him in
the words Of Logan to the cuckoo
Sweet bird thy bower is ever green,
! Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy note,
| No winter in thy year.
! Oh! could fly, I'd fly with thee;
We'd make one joyful wing,
Our annual visits round the globe,
Companions of the spring!
Further observation end experience have
given me Q different idea Of this lil.le fes.h.
cred volup;usry, which ] will venture ,c
impart, for the benefit Of my school-boy
readers, who may regard him with The same
unQuali6ed envy and admiraliun which