"The Cat Bird," continues the same author, "is one of our earliest morning songsters, beginning generally before break of day, and hovering from bush to bush with great sprightliness when there is scarce light sufficient to distinguish him. His notes are more remarkable for singularity than for melody. They consist of short imitations of other birds and other sounds; but his pipe being rather deficient in clearness and strength of tone, his imitations fail where these qualities are requisite. Yet he is not easily discouraged, but seems to study certain passages with great perseverance, uttering them at first low, and, as he succeeds, higher and more freely, nowise embarrassed by the presence of a spectator even within a few yards of him. On attentively listening for some time, one can perceive considerable variety in his performance, in which he seems to introduce all the odd sounds and quaint passages he has been able to collect. Upon the whole, though we cannot arrange him with the grand leaders of our vernal choristers, he well merits a place among the most agreeable general performers. "In spring or summer, on approaching a thicket of brambles, the first salutation you receive is from the Cat Bird; and a stranger, unacquainted with its note, would conclude that some vagrant orphan kitten had got bewildered in the briars, and wanted assistance, so exactly does the call of the bird sometimes resemble the voice of that animal. "In passing through the woods in summer, I have sometimes amused myself with imitating the violent chirping or squeaking of young birds, in order to observe what different species were around me; for such sounds, at such a season, in the woods, are no less alarming to the feathered tenants of the bushes than the cry of fire or murder in the streets is to the inhabitants of a large and populous city. On such occasions of alarm and consternation, the Cat Bird is the first to make his appearance, not singly, but sometimes half a dozen at a time, flying from different quarters to the spot. At this time those who are disposed to play with his feelings may almost throw him into fits, his emotion and agitation are so great at the distressful cries of what he supposes to be his suffering young. Other birds are variously affected, but none show symptoms of such extreme suffering. He hurries backwards and forwards, with hanging wings and open mouth, calling out louder and faster, and actually screaming with distress, till he appears hoarse with his exertions. He attempts no offensive means, but he bewails, he implores, in the most pathetic terms with which Nature has supplied him, and with an agony of feeling which is truly affecting. Every feathered neighbour within hearing hastens to the place, to learn the cause of the alarm, peeping about with looks of consternation and sympathy; but their own duties and domestic concerns soon oblige each to withdraw. At any other