it would have seemed more natural; but, as I was correct in both instances, I reasoned that the rooster might be. I finally settled it that the general's first form was his morning indoor salute, and that the second was his out-of-doors "every-day" song; and, furthermore, that he or some of his ancestry had stolen his text from a strain in "The Seven Sleepers," which in my memory runs:
(Oh, Pro - con - sul!)
However, a waggish composer offset this theft when he caught the jubilant cackle of a hen as she broke from her nest, heart and throat full of joyous melody snatched it bodily, I say, clapped it to paper, and made "Old Dan Tucker":
Rose-breasted Grossbeak.—I have had several interviews with this bird in different States, but never when prepared to take more than his key-note; so I give his song mostly from memory, feeling confident, however, of the accuracy of the main features and the spirit of it.
The black and white dress of the grossbeak, his breast adorned with a brilliant rose star, instantly attracts the eye, and his loud, ringing song as surely arrests the ear. He sings rapidly and energetically, as if in a hurry to be through and off. No bird sings with more ardor. While on paper his song resembles the robin's, and the key of E flat major and its relative minor are
