236 ADVENTURES AMONG BIRDS 



sound almost startling in its suddenness and power, 

 as of vigorous, rapidly repeated strokes on a great 

 golden wire. 



And as in this one, so it is in hundreds of parishes 

 all over the country where the nightingale is thinly 

 scattered. Each home of the bird is known to every 

 man in the parish; he can find it easily as, when 

 thirsty, he can find the spring of clear water hidden 

 away somewhere among the rocks and trees of his 

 native place; and the song, too, is a fountain of 

 beautiful sound, crystal pure and sparkling, as it 

 gushes from the mysterious inexhaustible reservoir, 

 refreshing to the soul and a joy for ever. 



The loss of one of these nightingales where there 

 is but one is a sorrow to the villagers, especially to 

 the young lovers, who are great admirers of the bird 

 and take a peculiar delight in listening to its evening 

 performance. For it does sometimes happen that 

 the nightingale whose "solitary song" is the delight 

 of a village, disappears from his place and returns 

 no more. The only explanation is that the faithful 

 bird has at length met with his end, after a dozen 

 or twenty years, or as many years as any old man 

 can remember. The most singular case of the loss 

 of a bird I have come across was in East Anglia, in 

 a place where there were very few nightingales. In 

 my rambles I came to a little rustic village, remote 

 from railroads and towns, which has a small, ancient, 

 curious-looking church standing by itself in a green 

 meadow half a mile away. I was told that the rector 

 kept the key himself, and that he was something of 



