THE LINNET. 299 



sentences. I heard the bird myself repeat the 

 words 'pretty boy,' and Mr Matthews assured me 

 that he had neither the note nor call of any bird 

 whatsoever." 



How sweet is the song of the wild linnet in the 

 early morning, while the gradually opening flowers 

 are yet wet with dew, and the gossamer threads 

 are among the grass, and the open downs are 

 bright with the butterfly-like flowers of the gorse 

 and furze. As we walk over the heath, we listen 

 for one moment to a solitary song, but hardly have 

 we paused to listen more fully, than a whole 

 chorus of linnets seems to have been awakened by 

 the strain, and sing to us both long and loud their 

 gentle concerts. A little cloud comes over the 

 blue sky, and the pattering rain -drops drive us to 

 the nearest tree for shelter. The loud song ceases, 

 but scarcely has that cloud poured forth its last 

 drops, than again the linnets twitter among the 

 bushes, and again they are singing, as if rejoicing 

 in the freshened air. Could we linger there till 

 evening, those songs would still be heard, save in 

 the almost universal silence of Natm^e at the 

 summer noonday. Nor when the gorse has lost 

 its flowers, and the shrub has nothing to show. 



