A DISSEMINATING PROCESS 153 



this. The death of one child — little Paul Dombey, 

 for instance — is affecting to read about : thousands 

 together seem not to affect people — no, not even 

 ladies — at all. 



It is interesting to sit in the actual roosting-place 

 of the starUngs, after the birds have got there. 

 They are all in a state of excitement, hopping and 

 fluttering from perch to perch, from one bush to 

 another, and always seeming to be passing on. 

 One is in the midst of a world of birds, of a sea of 

 sound, which is made up, on the whole, of a kind 

 of chuckling, chattering song, in which there are 

 mingled — giving it its most characteristic tones — 

 long musical whews and whistles, as well as some 

 notes that may fairly be called warblings — the whole 

 very pleasing, even in itself; delightful, of course, 

 as a part of all the romance. As one sits and 

 watches, it becomes more and more evident that a 

 disseminating process is going on. The birds are 

 ever pushing forward, and extending themselves 

 through the thick undergrowth, as though to find 

 proper room for their crowded numbers. There is, 

 in fact, a continual fluttering stream through the 

 wood, as there has been, before, a flying stream 

 through the air, but, in the denseness of the under- 

 growth, it is hard to determine if there is a similar 

 tendency for band to follow band. The universal 

 sing-song diminishes very slowly, very gradually, 

 and, when it is almost quite dark, there begin to 

 be sudden flights of small bodies of birds, through 

 the bushes, at various points of the plantation, each 

 rush being followed by an increase of sound. In- 

 stead of diminishing, these scurryings, with their 



