,2/. Birds that come to our 



its birds. Where the asphalt pavement with its 

 passers-by approaches the country towns, where the 

 highroad which it borders is noisy with the sounds 

 of wheels and hoofs of horses ; there, close by in 

 the hedges on the one side, and the small patches 

 of lilac and syringa on the other, are the birds. 



" II vit un oiseau voletant, 

 Hochant la queue et becquetant 



Mouches sur 1'herbette ; 

 Un bel oiseau gris argente, 

 De petits points blancs mouchete, 



Brun de collerette . . . 

 Ce bel oiseau qui voletait 

 En faisant 'quit,' 'quit,' 'quit,' c'etait 



La bergeronnette." 



Of all the birds that are most confiding, and of 

 the many that are a delight to our eyes, none seems 

 to be so more than the water-wagtail, of which 

 Gustave Mathieu so charmingly writes. True, 

 there is the robin, our dear old English friend, 

 who in English hearts has found a tender spot, which 

 will flit about within a yard of you as you are 

 gardening, and perch upon your wheelbarrow in 

 which the weeds are fast accumulating, or on the 

 handle of your spade, left for a moment upstand- I 

 ing in the border ; and the jaunty blackbird with 

 his golden bill, flirting his broad tail as he pauses 

 after a quick run on the turf. 



And the thrush too ! (T. Musicus, which is the 

 Latin for the common or garden one), he is there, 

 his big brown eye watching for any slight movement 

 which will tell him that the worm is within his 



