The anthor of the " History of Virginia" makes mention of a bird, said to contain the soul of ono of their princes, by the Indians. P. 185.

COUNTY OF WESTCHESTER. 465

The favorite places of resort for these birds are on high, dry situations ; it is probably on this account, that they are to be found here in such numbers. The following lines are so appropriate, that no apology can be necessary for their inserlion.

SONG OF THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

Swiftly the hours of day-light have fled,

Dark hang the clouds o'er the sun's wavy bed ;

Stilly the cool dews of evening are falling,

And the night-loving owl from her wood haunt is calling,

Now swiftly fronri my dark home Fll silently fly.

And glide through the glen with my bright beaming eye.

On the slope of the hill is the gleam of my wings, Through the limbs of the oak where the rain prophet rings, By the skirt of the green wood where hangs the light dew, O'er the grass of the meadow my flight I pursue ; Through the star lighted paths of the forest I'll fly, And pierce the gray gloom with my bright gleaming eye.

Wo ! to the night moth that flits in my way, Wo ! to the tribes in the still air that play. Wo ! to the wretch in the night dew that sings, For the death spirit waits on the rush of my wings ; High and low, swift and slow, through the shadow I fly, While the wolf's in her track, and the owl hooteth nigh; When the moon from her cloud-cinctured car brightly gleams, And starts the shades with her tremulous beams, ...