PERCHING BIRDS. 63 
amongst them. Lowering his wings, he rushed first at 
one and then another, until he had driven them all 
away and remained master of the situation, the others 
not venturing to contest the matter. 
But in spite of its pugnacious disposition it will ever 
hold a chief place in our regard. Like its winter 
neighbour the dunnock, its principal food is insects, 
and no corner of the garden is overlooked in its search 
for those tiny ravagers, which, if left unchecked, would 
do us so much mischief. In addition to this the robin 
is one of our most pleasing songsters, and its sweet 
notes are heard, with few intermissions, all the year 
round. In the spring there is more liveliness and viva- 
city in its tones than at other times, though amidst the 
choral harmony that then prevails it attracts but little 
notice. But when our summer friends are fled with the 
fading flowers, and the “sere and yellow leaf” comes 
whirling from the tree, the robin’s song awakens our 
attention. Yet it lacks the joyousness of spring, and in 
sympathy with the departing season it seems to breathe 
a plaintive and melancholy strain, bidding us, as it 
were, to remember that we “all do fade as a leaf,” and 
turning our thoughts to that haven of rest where nought 
is touched by ‘‘ decay’s effacing fingers,” but, fresh with 
eternal spring, the redeemed of the Lord shall dwell 
there for ever, “and there shall be no more death.” 
Keble quotes from a friend some sweet lines in his 
Christian Year, which I am tempted to transcribe :— 
**Unheard in summer’s flaming ray, 
Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer, 
Wooing the stillness of the autumn day ; 
Bid it a moment linger, 
Nor fly 
Too soon from winter’s scowling eye. 
