90 IN THE GREEN LEAF 



I have stopped in astonishment at the volume 

 of sound proceeding from the throat of a 

 blackcap, just overhead, by the side of a 

 road. 



Like the song of Master Shufflewings (the 

 hedge-sparrow), you hear no preparatory chirps 

 or twiddles ; out it rolls for the benefit of those 

 who are privileged to hear it. The nightingale 

 you may watch, but this bird is difficult to in- 

 spect with your glasses, for cover he will have 

 when he sings. 



In summer heat, when those restless, inquisi- 

 tive, sharp-biting creatures, the fox-terriers, are 

 tor a short time fast asleep in the old court- 

 yard, which is shaded over by plane and chest- 

 nut trees ; where not even the clink from a 

 stable-pail is heard to break the silence from 

 under the cool green leaves that rich song 

 comes with startling distinctness. 



His times for coming and going are the 

 same as those of his larger relative. Some 

 members of this species have been seen here 

 in winter ; but this is hardly worth notice, for 

 many birds of the migrant class have been 

 met with at different times in severe weather. 

 Late broods, accidents, to which all birds are 

 more or less liable, and mild winters, may 



