190 CHARACTERISTICS OF COMMON BIRDS. 



last up-train, and thoroughly enjoying the still cool of the star-lit hour. 

 I had not been long thus when a slight rustling in some dwarf withies 

 behind me attracted my attention, for there was a tiny rivulet that wound 

 its way through an adjoining coppice; and then commenced the sweetest 

 song that, I suppose, ever broke through the silence of the night; the 

 half twitter, the running notes, the inward chirp, and withal the constant 

 variety, which was kept up almost without intermission within a yard of 

 me, never was heard to greater advantage or to greater perfection, and 

 one circumstance particularly favoured me — my near proximity to the little 

 songster; invisible as he was, I could fancy how prettily he was warbling 

 at my side, with his throat swelling and wings quivering; neither did his 

 song lose one jot of its sweetness by its immediate vicinity, nay, so far 

 from it, I am convinced I could appreciate many a tender intonation 

 which but a slight distance might render inaudible. I quite recognised 

 the hurrying manner which White notices; and when, after the whirl of 

 the train, and the dazzle of the gas-lights, and the din of the streets, I 

 once more threw myself on my bed, I speedily dreamed of the dark grove 

 and my little Salicaria. 



In reference to this bird, it is singular to observe how alike the ordinary 

 notes of all birds of this kind are, I mean a certain harsh twitter or chirp; 

 thus the Marsh Tit, the Reed Bunting, even the Kingfishers, all have 

 much of this, and, if my memory serves me, the Water Pyot too, though 

 his inward warblings are charming. Another thought has often crossed my 

 mind — when do Reed Wrens sleep? for day and night during warm weather 

 do they seem never to cease their warblings. On the Thames they swarm, 

 and every willow bush has its sibilous tenant, and, if you follow the sound, 

 you may soon trace him out with his tawny back and dark eye, with its 

 cream-coloured eyebrow. I do not think we can call him very pretty, and 

 yet he is so, though 



"In sober russet clad;" 



but at any moment we may see him brought into severe contrast with 

 that beautiful gem of the waters the brilliant Halcyon. Seen in the sun- 

 shine in June, sure nothing was ever so lovely; it is emerald and ruby 

 on the wing, but, like many another thing so charming at freedom and 

 distance, once reduced into possession, you wonder at the change. That 

 there is some actual fading from the absence of life, some departure of 

 gloss and brilliance with the departure of motion, I have little doubt, but 

 we do not always reflect how much effect is produced and heightened by 

 contrast and situation, and the Kingfisher accordingly looks nowhere so 

 bright as on his own bright waters, as the song of the Nightingale sounds 

 nowhere so sweet as in the deep darkness of the sylvan night. I know 

 an instance of a patient ground fisherman, who sat so long and so im- 



