114 FRESH FIELDS 



his countrymen as of like opinion. No wonder he 

 thought our robin inferior in power to the missel 

 thrush, in variety to the mavis, and in melody to 

 the blackbird ! Robin did not and could not sing 

 to his ears the song he sings to ours. Then it is 

 very likely true that his grace did not hear the 

 robin in the most opportune moment and season, or 

 when the contrast of his song with the general 

 silence and desolation of nature is the most striking 

 and impressive. The nightingale needs to be heard 

 at night, the lark at dawn rising to meet the sun ; 

 and robin, if you would know the magic of his 

 voice, should be heard in early spring, when, as 

 the sun is setting, he carols steadily for ten or fif- 

 teen minutes from the top of some near tree. 

 There is perhaps no other sound in nature; patches 

 of snow linger here and there; the trees are naked 

 and the earth is cold and dead, and this contented, 

 hopeful, reassuring, and withal musical strain, 

 poured out so freely and deliberately, fills the void 

 with the very breath and presence of the spring. 

 It is a simple strain, well suited to the early season ; 

 there are no intricacies in it, but its honest cheer 

 and directness, with its slight plaintive tinge, like 

 that of the sun gilding the treetops, go straight to 

 the heart. The compass and variety of the robin's 

 powers are not to be despised either. A German 

 who has great skill in the musical education of birds 

 told me what I was surprised to hear, namely, that 

 our robin surpasses the European blackbird in capa- 

 bilities of voice. 



