98 FRESH FIELDS 



Rear his own cottage, where he had heard one the 

 evening before. It was now only six o'clock, and 

 I had two or three hours to wait before I could 

 reasonably expect to hear her. "It gets to be into 

 the hevening," said my new friend, "when she sings 

 the most, you know." I whiled away the time as 

 best I could. If I had been an artist, I should 

 have brought away a sketch of a picturesque old 

 cottage near by, that bore the date of 1688 on its 

 wall. I was obliged to keep moving most of the 

 time to keep warm. Yet the "no-see- 'ems," or 

 midges, annoyed me, in a temperature which at 

 home would have chilled them buzzless and biteless. 

 Finally, . I leaped the smooth masonry of the stone 

 wall and ambushed myself amid the tall ferns under 

 a pine-tree, where the nightingale had been heard 

 in the morning. If the keeper had seen me, he 

 would probably have taken me for a poacher. I 

 sat shivering there till nine o'clock, listening to the 

 cooing of the wood-pigeons, watching the motions 

 of a jay that, I suspect, had a nest near by, and 

 taking note of various other birds. The song- 

 thrush and the robins soon made such a musical 

 uproar along the borders of a grove, across an 

 adjoining field, as quite put me out. It might veil 

 and obscure the one voice I wanted to hear. The 

 robin continued to sing quite into the darkness. 

 This bird is related to the nightingale, and looks 

 and acts like it at a little distance ; and some of its 

 notes are remarkably piercing and musical. When 

 my patience was about exhausted, I was startled by 



