xxxi RIVERSIDE LETTERS 241 



the thrush) a regular conversation ' And 

 how are you? Isn't this a fine day ? Let us 

 have a nice talk,' &c. &c. He is answered 

 in the same strain, and then replies, and so 

 on. Nothing more thoughtful, more refined, 

 more feeling, can be conceived. Iteration is 

 the last thing to be objected to in his song. 



" Am I wrong (I think I can't be), or have 

 you mistaken the thrush for the blackbird ? 

 Pardon me for all this, but tell me if- 1 am 

 right or wrong." 



Sir George is quite right, and when I 

 answered his kind letter I owned up my error 

 manfully. His letter continues : 



"As to his 'chuck-chuck-chuck,' that, I 

 suppose, is what gave us Tennyson's lines in 

 the ' Early Spring,' 



' Till at thy chuckled note, 

 Thou twinkling bird,' 



by which that great observer of nature has 

 well expressed not only the alarm-call but 

 the swift way in which the bird flits past 

 while he calls." 



R 



