230 BIRDS INTOWN AND VILLAGE 



the first line of the couplet I have quoted suggests 

 to my mind is not of crowing Chanticleer at all, 

 but of a stalwart, bare-armed, blowsy-faced 

 woman, vigorously beating on a tin pan with a 

 stick; but for what purpose — whether to call 

 down a passing swarm of bees, or to summon 

 the chickens to be fed — I never know. It is only 

 my mental picture of a "lively din." As to the 

 second line, all attempts to see the thing de- 

 scribed only bring before me clouds and shadows, 

 confusedly rushing about in an impossible way; 

 a chaos utterly unlike the serenity and imper- 

 ceptible growth of morning, and not a picture at 

 all. 



By and by I found myself paying special at- 

 tention to one cock, about a hundred yards away, 

 or a little more perhaps, for by contrast all the 

 other songs within hearing seemed strangely in- 

 ferior. Its voice was singularly clear and pure, 

 the last note greatly prolonged and with a 

 slightly falling inflection, yet not collapsing at the 

 finish as such long notes frequently do, ending 

 with a little internal sound or croak, as if the 

 singer had exhausted his breath; but it was per- 

 fect in Its way, a finished performance, artistic, 



