THE SECRET OF THE WILLOW WREN 119 



walk, in Kensington Gardens, on a Sunday morn- 

 ing, and sat down to listen to it ; and for half an 

 hour the bird continued to repeat his song two or 

 three times a minute on the trees and bushes within 

 half a dozen yards of my seat. Just after I had 

 sat down, a throstle, perched on the topmost bough 

 of a thorn that projected over the walk, began his 

 song, and continued it a long time, heedless of the 

 people passing below. Now, I noticed that in 

 almost every case the person approaching lifted 

 his eyes to the bird above, apparently admiring the 

 music, sometimes even pausing for a moment in 

 his walk ; and that when two or three came to- 

 gether they not only looked up, but made some 

 remark about the beauty of the song. But from 

 first to last not one of all the passers-by cast a look 

 towards the tree where the willow wren was sing- 

 ing ; nor was there anything to show that the 

 sound had any attraction for them, although they 

 must have heard it. The loudness of the thrush 

 prevented them from giving it any attention, and 

 made it practically inaudible. It was like a pim- 

 pernel blossoming by the side of a poppy, or dahlia, 

 or peony, where, even if seen, it would not be noticed 

 as a beautiful flower. 



In the chapter on the wood wren, I endeavoured 



