128 MAY. 



crimson clubs, presenting a sylvan and unique 

 air. And who does not love " the wood-notes 

 wild?" We again recognize the speech of 

 many a little creature who, since we last 

 heard it, has traversed seas and sojourned in 

 places we wot not of. The landscape derives a 

 great portion of its vernal cheerfulness not 

 merely from the songs of birds but from their 

 cries! Each has a variety of cries indicative of 

 its different moods of mind, so to speak, which 

 are heard only in spring and summer, and are 

 both familiar and dear to a lover of Nature. 

 Who ever heard the weet-weet and pink-pink of 

 the chaffinch, or the winkle-winkle of the black- 

 bird as it flies out of the hedge and skims along 

 before you to a short distance, repeatedly on 

 a summer evening about sunset, at any other 

 time? In spring mornings by three or four 

 o'clock the fields are filled with a perfect 

 clamour of bird- voices, but at noon the wood is 

 their oratory. There the wood-pecker's laugh 

 still rings from a distance the solemn coo of 

 the wood-pigeon is still deep and rich as ever 

 the little chill-chall sounds his two notes 

 blithely on the top of the tallest trees ; and the 

 voice of the long-tailed titmouse, ever and 



