Sylvan Minstrels. 143 



They are common in many places, but are no more 

 to be seen by the careless observer than the Dryads 

 themselves. At the sound of footsteps they will shrink 

 behind sheltering branches or climb high up into their 

 leafy citadels ; and it is only the quiet, patient watcher 

 who does much more than catch a passing glimpse of 

 the gay green livery and the gallant crimson crest. 



There are many other birds which, although not 

 endowed with song, help to cheer the woodland ways 

 with merry throats. 



The year will have barely opened ere the great tit- 

 mouse and his genial friends will raise their ringing call- 

 notes in every lane and wood and orchard, clear and 

 musical in the sharp January air, like the clink of iron 

 upon the village anvil. 



There is music in the fierce cry of the kestrel as his 

 keen wings bear him up to his fastness in the rocks ; 

 in the joyous screaming of a troop of swifts as they 

 revel in their empire of the air ; in the very drone of 

 the nightjar, sailing over the meadows in the dusk to 

 pick up a moth for his supper ; and in the solemn 

 stillness of a moonlight night, there is music in ' the 

 lonely owl's halloo.' 



