LITTLE BROWN BIRD 65 



and wood-violet, and as we pause half-way the sing- 

 song is heard for certain. And at length there sits 

 on the edge of a whitethorn bush, where the sun most 

 warms it, our little brown bird. For the moment, 

 without thought of food, he sits there the picture of 

 a returned wanderer, and ever and anon a wave ruffles 

 his throat feathers, and he rings out for the wood to 

 hear those magic syllables, " Chiff-chaff, chiffy-chaffy, 

 chiff-chaff." 



