THE PAGEANT OF SUMMER 



The yellowhammer is the most per- 

 sistent individually, but I think the 

 blackbirds when listened to are the 

 masters of the fields. Before one can 

 finish another begins, like the summer 

 ripples succeeding behind each other, so 

 that the melodious sound merely changes 

 its position. Now here, now in the 

 corners, then across the field, again in 

 the distant copse, where it seems about 

 to sink, when it rises again almost at 

 hand. Like a great human artist, the 

 blackbird makes no effort, being fully 

 conscious that his liquid tone cannot be 

 matched. He utters a few delicious 

 notes, and carelessly quits the green 

 stage of the oak till it pleases him to 

 sing again. Without the blackbird, in 

 whose throat the sweetness of the green 

 fields dwells, the days would be only 

 partly summer. Without the violet all 

 the bluebells and cowslips could not 

 make a spring, and without the black- 

 bird, even the nightingale would be but 



