Wilson states that it arrives in Pennsylvania early in April, where it frequents low grounds and river-courses, rears two and sometimes three broods in a season, and returns to the South as the cold weather commences. During the winter, he met with them in large numbers in the immense cypress swamps and extensive grassy flats of the Southern States, along the numerous rivers and rice plantations. These places abounded with their favorite seeds and other means of sustenance, and appeared to be their general places of resort at this season. From the river Trent, in North Carolina, to the Savannah River, and even farther south, Wilson found this species very numerous. They were not found in flocks, but skulked among the reeds and grass, were shy and timorous, and seemed more attached to the water than any others of this family. In April large numbers pass through Pennsylvania northward. Only a few remain behind, and these frequent the swamps and the reedy borders of creeks and rivers. He found their nests built in the ground, in tussocks of rank grass, surrounded by water, with four eggs of a dirty-white ground, spotted with rufous. He has found them feeding their young as late as the 15th of August. Their food seemed to be principally grass-seeds, wild oats, and insects. He supposed them to have no song, and that their only note was a single _cheep_ uttered in a somewhat hoarse tone. They flirt their tails as they fly, seldom or never take to trees, but run and skulk from one low bush to another. Except in regard to their song, Wilson’s account of their habits, so far as it goes, is quite accurate, although this bird really does have quite a respectable song, and one that improves as the season advances. At first it is only a succession or repetition of a few monotonous trilling notes, which might easily be mistaken for the song of the Field Sparrow, or even confounded with the feebler chant of the _socialis_, although not so varied as the former, and is much more sprightly and pleasing than the other. Still later its music improves, and more effort is made. Like the Song Sparrow, it mounts some low twig, expands its tail-feathers, and gives forth a very sprightly trill that echoes through the swampy thicket with an effect which, once noticed and identified with the performer, is not likely to be ever mistaken. Nuttall calls this song loud, sweet, and plaintive. It is to my ear more sprightly than pathetic, and has a peculiarly ventriloquistic effect, as if the performer were at a much greater distance than he really is.