Philosophical Tramactions. . 141 



certain season of the year to produce and rear its young. This 

 appears to be the. grand intention which nature has in view, but in 

 consequence of the observation just made, its presence here may 

 answer many secondary purposes ; among these I shall notice the 

 following : the beneficent Author of nature seems to spare no 

 pains in cheering the heart of man with every thing that is delight- 

 ful in the summer season. We may be indulged with the com- 

 pany of these visitors perhaps to heighten, by the novelty of their 

 appearance and pleasing variety of their notes, the native scenes. 

 How sweetly, at the return of spring, do the notes of the cuckoo 

 first burst upon the ear, and what apathy must that soul possess 

 that does not feel a soft emotion at the song of the nightingale, 

 (surely it must be ' fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils') and 

 how wisely is it contrived that a general stillness should prevail 

 while this heavenly bird is pouring forth its plaintive and melodi- 

 ous strains,— strains that so sweetly accord with the evening 

 hour ! Some of our foreign visitors, it may be said, are inharmoni- 

 ous minstrels, and rather disturb than aid the concert. In the 

 midst of a soft warm summer's day, when the marten is gently 

 floating on the air, not only pleasing us with the peculiar delicacy 

 of its note, but with the elegance of its meandering ; when the 

 blackcap is vying with the goldfinch, and the linnet with the wood- 

 lark, a dozen swifts rush from some neighbouring battlement, and 

 set up a most discordant screaming. Yet all is perfect. The in- 

 teruption is of short duration, and without it the long-continued 

 warbling of the softer singing birds would pall and tire the listen- 

 ing ear with excess of melody, as the exhilarating beams of the 

 sun, were they not at intervals intercepted by clouds, would rob 

 the heart of the gaiety they for a while inspire, and sink it into 

 languor. There is a perfect consistency in the order in which nature 

 seems to have directed the singing birds to fill up the day Avith 

 their pleasing harmony. To an observer of those divine laws 

 which harmonize the general order of things, there appears a de- 

 sign in the arrangement of this sylvan minstrelsy. It is not in the 

 haunted meadow nor frequented field we are to expect the gratifi- 

 cation of indulging ourselves in this pleasing speculation to its full 

 extent, we must seek for it in the park, the forest, or some se- 

 questered dell, half enclosed by the coppice or the wood. 



" First the robin, and not the lark as has been generally ima- 

 gined, as soon as twilight has drawn the imperceptible line between 

 night and day,begins his lonely song. How sweetly does this harmo- 

 nize with the soft dawning of day ! He goes on till the twinkling 

 sunbeams begin to tell him his notes no longer accord with the ris- 

 ing scene. Up starts the lark, and with him a variety of sprightly 

 songsters, whose lively notes are in perfect correspondence with 

 the gaiety of the morning. The general warbling continues, with 



