VOICES OF BIRDS. 



tions and cadences are no longer heard. The 

 cuckoo then comes, and informs us that spring has 

 arrived ; that he has journeyed to us, borne by 

 gentle gales in sunny days ; that fragrant flowers 

 are in the copse and the mead, and all things telling 

 of gratulation and of joy : the children mark this 

 well-known sound, spring out, and cuckoo! cuckoo! 

 as they gambol down the lane : the very plough-boy 

 bids him welcome in the early morn. It is hardly 

 spring without the cuckooes song ; and having told 

 his tale, he has voice for no more is silent or away. 

 Then comes the dark, swift-winged marten, glanc- 

 ing through the air, that seems afraid to visit our 

 uncertain clime : he comes, though late, and hurries 

 through his business here, eager again to depart, 

 all day long in agitation and precipitate flight. The 

 bland zephyrs of the spring have no charms with 

 this race ; but basking and careering in the sultry 

 gleams of June and July, they associate in throngs, 

 and, screaming, dash round the steeple or the ruined 

 tower, to serenade their nesting mates ; and glare 

 and heat are in their train. When the fervour of 

 summer ceases, these lovers of the sun depart. The 

 evening robin, from the summit of some leafless 

 bough, or projecting point, tells us that autumn is 

 come, and brings matured fruits, chilly airs, and 

 sober hours, and he, the lonely minstrel now that 

 sings, is understood by all. These four birds thus 

 indicate a separate season, have no interference with 

 the intelligence of the other, nor could they be 

 transposed without the loss of all the meaning they 



