THE NIGHTINGALE. 59 



and falling, the doubling and redoubling of the 

 nightingale's voice, might well be lifted above 

 earth, and say, ' Lord, what music hast thou 

 provided for saints in heaven, since thou af- 

 fordest bad men such music on earth ?'" 

 However favourable the banks of the Thames 

 may be to the music of the nightingales, we 

 could say much of their harmonious songs in the 

 beautiful beech-woods and tangled thickets of 

 Hampshire, and in other song-abounding districts. 

 But perhaps there are few places where they are 

 heard more charmingly, or to greater advantage, 

 than on the banks of the Avon, amidst the 

 wooded recesses of St. Vincent's rocks, between 

 Clifton and the mouth of the Severn. There 

 are few persons familiar with that fine forest- 

 like tract on the left bank of the river, 

 known under the general denomination of Leigh 

 Woods, who are not also acquainted with the 

 sweet embowered ravine, running up from the 

 very shore of the stream, to nearly the summit of 

 the hill which has received, and well deserves, 

 the name of Nightingale Valley. It is at all 

 times a lovely spot; and we could scarcely wish 

 our young friends a greater treat, amid the scenes 

 of nature, than to visit this valley on one of 

 those calm moonlight nights, when it resounds 

 with the songs of the nightingales which have 



