DAYS AMONG THE ROBINS 123 



cess, and it will not be many minutes ere one of 

 these wood-nymphs has found you out. Then, with 

 wings raised slightly, like inquiring eyebrows, he 

 will inspect you from the vantage-point of the side 

 of a tree a favorite position for this bird and, 

 being assured, as like as not he will come and sit 

 close by you for as long as you care to stay. There 

 comes to mind the morning of a bright autumnal 

 day, when I sat in a sun-streaked bush recess read- 

 ing of "the ruddock with charitable bill" in Shake- 

 speare's "Winter's Tale." And a philosophic little 

 bird in yellow and grey, bunched upon a limb close 

 by, betrayed the most profound interest in the 

 whole recital. 



Some naturalists have laid it down that a bird's 

 silence invests it with an air of mystery. I do not 

 find this to be the case with the Yellow-Robin. Cer- 

 tainly it is one of the quietest of our smaller birds, 

 yet its pretty, trustful ways, combined with the 

 eloquence expressed by its wings and tail, establish 

 an understanding and sympathy between itself and 

 the observer. Perhaps it is because of its voiceful 

 performances at dawn and dusk that this bird re- 

 mains comparatively silent during the full day. 

 Apparently one of the unshakable rules of the whole 

 genus is that its members must salute the morn 

 and vesper the eve with a steady, melodiously- 

 solemn chanting. It was the hearing of this voice 

 of Australia speaking "in the dim hour 'twixt 

 dreams and dawn" that persuaded an unusually 

 imaginative scientist to bestow upon the chief mem- 

 ber of the genus a title immortalising the bird as 

 the Australian Psalmist of the Dawn. And it is 



