of the time, and sang and fluttered among the oaks, in numbers greater than common.  Nature usually observes a stern fitness in her adaptation of means to ends.  Birds are to be found in the forests, on the prairies, and in the still untenanted openings of the west—­and often in countless numbers; more especially those birds which fly in flocks, and love the security of unoccupied regions—­unoccupied by man is meant—­ wherein to build their nests, obey the laws of their instincts, and fulfil their destinies.  Thus, myriads of pigeons, and ducks, and geese, etc., are to be found in the virgin woods, while the companionable and friendly robin, the little melodious wren, the thrush, the lark, the swallow, the marten, and all those pleasant little winged creatures, that flit about our dwellings and grounds, and seem to be sent by Providence, expressly to chant their morning and evening hymns to God in our ears, most frequent the peopled districts.  It has been said by Europeans that the American birds are mute, in comparison with those of the Old World.  This is true, to a certain extent, as respects those which are properly called forest birds, which do, in general, appear to partake of the sombre character that marks the solemn stillness of their native haunts.  It is not true, however, with the birds which live in our fields, and grounds, and orchards, each of which sings its song of praise, and repeats its calls and its notes, as richly and as pleasantly to the ear, as the birds of other lands.  One large class, indeed, possesses a faculty that enables it to repeat every note it has ever heard, even to some of the sounds of quadrupeds.  Nor is this done in the discordant tones of the parrot; but in octaves, and trills, and in rich contra-altos, and all the other pleasing intonations known to the most gifted of the feathered race.  Thus it is, that one American mocking-bird can outsing all the birds of Europe united.

It seemed that morning as if every bird that was accustomed to glean its food from the neighborhood of Castle Meal was on the wing, and ready to accompany the party that now sallied forth to catch the bee.  This party consisted of le Bourdon, himself, as its chief and leader; of Peter, the missionary, and the corporal.  Margery, too, went along; for, as yet, she had never seen an exhibition of Boden’s peculiar skill.  As for Gershom and his wife, they remained behind, to make ready the noontide meal; while the Chippewa took his accoutrements, and again sallied out on a hunt.  The whole time of this Indian appeared to be thus taken up; though, in truth, venison and bear’s meat both abounded, and there was much less necessity for those constant efforts than he wished to make it appear.  In good sooth, more than half his time was spent in making those observations, which had led to the advice he had been urging on his friend, the bee-hunter, in order to induce him to fly.  Had Pigeonswing better understood Peter, and had he possessed a clearer insight into the extent and magnitude of his plans of retributive vengeance, it is not probable his uneasiness, at the moment, would have been so great, or the urgency for an immediate decision on the part of le Bourdon would have appeared as urgently pressing as it now seemed to be.