194 THE PASSING OF THE BIRDS. 
They steal away, give little warning, 
Choose their own time ; 
Say not good-night, — but in May’s brighter clime 
Bid us good-morning. 
Their departure bereaves us, but, all in 
all, it must be accounted a blessing. Like 
the falling of the leaves, it touches the heart 
with a pleasing sadness, —a sadness more 
delicious, if one is born to enjoy it, than all 
the merry-making of springtime. And even 
for the most unsentimental of naturalists 
the autumnal season has many a delightful 
hour. The year is almost done; but for the 
moment the whole feathered world is in mo- 
tion, and the shortest walk may show him 
the choicest of rarities. Thanks to the pass- 
ing of the birds, his local studies are an end- 
less pursuit. ‘It is now more than forty 
years that I have paid some attention to the 
ornithology of this district, without being 
able to exhaust the subject,” says Gilbert 
White; “new occurrences still arise as long 
as any inquiries are kept alive.” A happy 
man is the bird-lover; always another spe- 
cies to look for, another mystery to solve. 
His expectations may never be realized; but 
no matter; it is the hope, not its fulfillment, 
