TJie Music-makers. 81 



mounted, his crest depressed, his 

 voice broken, his wings drooped ; 

 then he creeps to the side of his 

 bright-eyed wife, and sits in dudgeon 

 for a while, until some new carol 

 from the birds about him lashes him 

 into fresh endeavour. 



I wonder whether in your country 

 wanderings you have ever chanced 

 on a Water-ouzel ? And, if so, I 

 wonder, further, if you have ever 

 heard it sing? 



A more charming bird, a sweeter 

 song, it would be difficult to find. 

 This morning it is September when 

 I write, and I am staying in the 

 beautiful nooks and folds of the 

 Pentland hills this morning a pair 

 of them flew past me as I stood by 

 the burn that feeds the Glencorse 

 reservoir. I was not thinking of 

 birds, nor of the great city which 

 the reservoir helps to refresh, but 

 of the historic interests of the place 

 the relics of the Covenanters, the 

 c 



