Hedgerow Life 
joyful songs. The thrush from the tree- 
top pipes up merrily. If you listen to it 
carefully you may make out distinct 
words, which it repeats over and over 
again. One bird asks you plainly to 
have a ‘cup of tea, cup of tea, cup of 
tea,’ and another says, ‘Who are you? 
who are you? who are you?’ anda 
third; ‘Did you do it?’ And tlre 
missel-thrush and blackbird are not far 
behind in musical ability. 
Then the summer birds, which have 
just completed their long and wearisome 
journey all the way from Africa, are 
rejoiced to have finished their travels in 
safety, and to be back in old England 
once more; and they sing in joy and 
thankfulness, until they find their 
partners, and then all the labours and 
anxieties of bringing up their helpless 
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