HOW I BECAME A NATURALIST 13 



was a volume of which, my grandfather was immensely proud, 

 but, for want of pocket money, I must here confess that one day 

 the old favourite was missing from the book-case, having found 

 a resting place with a second-hand bookseller in Alban's City 

 at the modest purchase price of half a crown. But, as I have 

 pointed out earlier on, my grandfather was for several of my 

 youthful years my chaperone, and together we explored furze 

 field and green lane, wood and dell, streamside and copse, in 

 homely Hertfordshire, and discovered, for the seeking, treasures 

 untold. We listened hand-in-hand, and heart-in-heart, to the 

 lyrics of a soul-inspiring Thrush, and could sing with Muriel 

 Stuart, as does she in " Christ in Carnival " : 



" But with each step I took the morning grew 

 Gayer and younger, a full-throated Thrush 

 Woke, and from hidden bush 

 Dimpled a note or two, 

 Set the wood's side a -shake, as if it knew 

 Answer to impudent jest ; already Bees 

 Sought the dell's bosom all a -heave into blue, 

 And girdled with the goldenest Primroses. 

 From every fold 



The young Lamb's cough came softly down the lane ; 

 The Cuckoo told 



His first few notes as miser tells his gold, 

 And counted them again." 



And, in later years, listening to a Thrush perched on a stately 

 Elm, among the tufts of early crimson flowers, I was myself con- 

 strained to write thus : 



Hark ! to the singing Thrush 



On the bare bough, 

 Voicing its lilting strain 



In England now. 

 Sweet songster of the grove, 



Gay thou dost sing, 

 Like to a chorister, 



Joy -bird of Spring. 



What means this song of thine ? 



Tell me, dear Thrush ; 

 Sing me a vesper sweet 



T'wards evening's hush. 



