PHILLIDA AND CORIDON. 121 
there in our journeyings, and chatted with for 
an hour or two. We had never seen them be- 
fore; if we learned their names we have long 
ago forgotten them; but somehow the persons 
themselves keep a place in our memory, and 
even in our affection. 
**T crossed a moor, with a name of its own 
And a certain use in the world, no doubt ; 
Yet a hand’s breadth of it shines alone 
*Mid the blank miles round about: 
‘* For there I picked up on the heather, 
And there [ put inside my breast, 
A moulted feather, an eagle-feather ! 
Well, I forget the rest.” 
Since we cannot ask birds for an explanation 
of their conduct, we have nothing for it but to 
steal their secrets, as far as possible, by patient 
and stealthy watching. In this way I hope, 
sooner or later, to find out what the golden- 
winged woodpecker means by the shout with 
which he makes the fields reécho in the spring, 
especially in the latter half of April. I have 
no doubt it has something to do with the proc- 
ess of mating, but it puzzles me to guess just 
what the message can be which requires to be 
published so loudly. Such a stentorian, long- 
winded cry! You wonder where the bird finds 
breath for such an effort, and think he must be 
a very ungentle lover, surely. But withhold 
your judgment for a few days, till you see him 
