Singing birds belong exclusively to the class of Insessores or Perching birds. One Falcon only (an African species, _Falco musicus_), is said to possess a musical voice, not making, though we much suspect, any considerable figure in that line. No wading, swimming, or gallinaceous bird makes any pretensions. The song was long considered as entirely the expression of love during the season, which has its most pleasant analogy in the spring-time of life, but that conclusion admits of some exceptions. Many birds sing in autumn apparently without the pleasant incitement of either actual or prospective attachment. Cases occur, too, as we have sometimes witnessed, of a bird having, to all appearance, failed in securing the object of his choice, remaining alone and solacing himself with a song occasionally for the balance of the season;—possibly somewhat of the nature of deriving comfort from “ends of verse and sayings of philosophers.” Our present bird belongs to the family of Thrushes, but to a genus which can scarcely be said to be represented in the States on the Atlantic; though the Rufous Thrush (_Mimus rufus_) is very nearly related to it, if not actually belonging to the group. This bird has been observed by nearly all the naturalists who have visited western North America, and its history is comparatively well known. To our friend, Col. McCall, we have to acknowledge our obligations, as on many former occasions, for a contribution intended for our present article:— “This remarkable bird, whose dulcet notes, flowing with exquisite smoothness, place him almost beyond rivalry among the countless songsters that enliven the woods of America, or indeed of the world at large, is as retired and simple in his manners as he is gay and brilliant in song. In his ordinary hearing, as well as in the very marked character of his flight, he exhibits a strong resemblance to our humble and unobtrusive, though always welcome vocalist, the Ferruginous Thrush (_M. rufus_); while in the faculty of modulating sweet sounds he is scarcely surpassed by the dashing, ambitious, and ever-animated Mocking Bird (_M. polyglottus_). His resemblance to the Ferruginous Thrush in the particulars above mentioned, forcibly impressed itself upon me the first time I saw the California bird. This was on the banks of the Rio Colorado, below the mouth of the Gila, where, in the month of June, the shade and seclusion afforded by the cotton-wood and the willow seemed to be a favorite abode of the species. I saw many individuals in the course of a ride of fifteen miles through this wild region. In one quiet nook I met with a pair ‘in love and mutual honors joined,’ who evidently had some dear little ‘pledges of peace’ secreted in the dense foliage around. They were greatly excited by my approach, deprecating the unlooked-for intrusion with abundant energy and vehemence. It was then that their harsh, scolding notes, their motions, and all their