His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure,
For through bleakest storms, if a calm he but see,
He comes, to remind us of sunshine and pleasure!”
The Blue-bird, as most persons, young and old, probably know, builds its nest in a hole in some old tree, generally an apple tree, unless a box is provided for him, in which the female lays five or six very pale blue eggs. Its song is a pleasant warble, which everybody loves to hear. Says Wilson, “In his motions and general character, he has great resemblance to the Robin Redbreast of Britain, (meaning Great Britain,) and had he the brown-olive of that bird, instead of his own blue, could scarcely be distinguished from him. Like him, he is known to almost every child; and shows as much confidence in man by associating with him in summer, as the other by his familiarity in winter. His society is courted by the inhabitants of the country, and few farmers neglect to provide for him, in some suitable place, a snug little summer-house, ready fitted and rent free. For this, he more than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his song, and the multitude of injurious insects which he daily destroys.”
If the young readers of Merry’s Museum will make a small box, with a hole in it large enough for the bird to go in and out, and nail it up in the neighborhood of the house, in the spring or fore part of summer, they will be almost certain to have either a blue-bird’s or a wren’s nest made in it, and can examine the eggs and young at their pleasure.
Last year I put up a box, for martins, on the side of my house, but no martins coming, a pair of blue-birds took possession of it, and raised a brood of young ones. This season, a box which I nailed up near the house, has a wren’s nest built in it, in which the female has now (July 3d) laid two eggs. The blue-birds have not yet occupied the martin box, but I think they may, as it was late last year when they made their nest in it.
Vireo.
Kircher.—The celebrated astronomer, Athanasius Kircher, having an acquaintance who denied the existence of a Supreme Being, took the following method to convince him of his error, upon his own principles. Expecting a visit from him, he procured a very handsome globe, or representation of the starry heavens, which was placed in the corner of the room, where it could not escape his friend’s observation; who, when he came, asked from whence it came, and to whom it belonged. “Not to me,” said Kircher, “nor was it ever made by any person, but came here by mere chance.” “That,” replied his skeptical friend, “is absolutely impossible: you surely jest.” Kircher, however, persisting in his assertion, took occasion to reason with his friend on his own atheistical principles. “You will not believe,” said he, “that this small body originated in mere chance; and yet you would contend that those heavenly bodies of which it is but a faint and diminutive resemblance, came into existence without order or design.” Pursuing this train of reasoning, his friend was at first confounded, next convinced, and ultimately joined in a cordial acknowledgement of the absurdity of denying the existence of a God.