April 



turn which seems to contradict the spirit of song ; 

 and part, perhaps, comes as an afterthought that a 

 :hing so sweetly perfect should be so fixed, so set, as 

 if the little heart were bound to one expression where- 

 with to make known at once all the gladness and the 

 sadness of its life. After this, one found a touch of 

 obtrusiveness in the shout of the song-thrush, and 

 the mellow turns of the blackbird seemed little more 

 than curious. Only the robin still might rank. 



Two days later on the i8th April I all but 

 failed to discover the chiff-chaff. The same north 

 wind was blowing, and the north side of every tree 

 and furrow was white with a thin coating of snow. 

 As I passed beneath a row of budding beeches, I 

 just caught the new voice a whispered "Chiff-chaff- 

 chirry-churry /" the diffident message of an all-but- 

 discredited herald of a halting spring. Poised on 

 one leg on the frosted bough, he seemed to survey 

 the strange white fields as if doubtful of his mission. 

 There was none of the energy which marks the 

 ceaseless repetition through spring and summer, and 

 well on into autumn, of this tiny warbler's mo- 

 notonous cry ; but if, in fairer days, with the more 

 melodious tones of later comers in one's ears 

 warblers in song as well as in name one should be 

 tempted to grow impatient of the chiff-chaff's balder 

 note, one will not forget that, while they still clung 

 to the south, the chiff-chaff was with us a brave 

 little pioneer, who dared the north while the field- 

 fares still lingered in our fields. 



109 



