INDIAN SONG-BIRDS 297 



no sympathy with the cross-grained old poet who spoke 

 of the " leud Cuckoo " and said, " I pray to God will fire 

 her bren." Rather would I cry with Wordsworth — 



" O Cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird ? 

 Or but a wandering voice ? 



Darling of the spring. 



No bird : but an invisible thing — 



A voice or mystery." 



The European cuckoo visits India. I have never 

 heard it in the south of the peninsula, but others have 

 been more fortunate. From April to June the Hima- 

 layas resound with its familiar call. The bird is there, 

 as in England, the harbinger of spring. A Himalayan 

 station in springtime is a sight for the gods. It is a 

 parti-coloured island cast in a magenta sea, for the 

 rhododendrons are in bloom. The spiraea hedgerows 

 have felt the touch of spring ; their snowy flowers have 

 come forth in such abundance as to obliterate the 

 foliage. The horse-chestnut trees have awakened from 

 their long winter sleep ; they have opened out their 

 emerald fans, and over these profuse Nature has 

 showered "ten thousand waxen pyramidal flowers." 

 Here and there a mass of the pale yellow blossom 

 of the mimosa trees forms a pleasant contrast to the 

 deeper tints of the horse-chestnut inflorescences. 



The little hill gardens are gay with English flowers : 

 roses, carnations, honeysuckle, geraniums, phlox, portu- 

 lacas, nasturtiums, and sweet peas vie with one another 

 for supremacy, and turn the flower-beds into patches 

 of brilliant colour. In the far distance the great snow- 



