A HUNT FOR THE NIGHTINGALE. 103 



places and the high-walled or high-hedged character 

 of it in others, the pedestrian about England is shut 

 out from much he would like to see. I used to envy 

 the bicyclists, perched high upon their rolling stilts. 

 But the foot-paths escape the barriers, and one need 

 walk nowhere else if he choose. 



Around Shackerford church are copses, and large 

 pine and fir woods. The place was full of birds. 

 My guide threw a stone at a small bird which he 

 declared was a nightingale ; and though the missile 

 did not come within three yards of it, yet he said he 

 had hit it, and pretended to search for it on the 

 ground. He must needs invent an opportunity for 

 lying. I told him here I had no further use for him, 

 and he turned cheerfully back, with my shilling in 

 his pocket. I spent the afternoon about the woods 

 and copses near Shackerford. The day was bright 

 and the air balmy. I heard the cuckoo call, and 

 the chaffinch sing, both of which I considered good 

 omens. The little chiffchaff was chiffchaffing in the 

 pine woods. The white-throat, with his quick, em- 

 phatic Chew-che-rick or Che-rick-a-rew, flitted and 

 ducked and hid among the low bushes by the road- 

 side. A girl told me she had heard the nightingale 

 yesterday on her way to Sunday-school, and pointed 

 out the spot. It was in some bushes near a house. I 

 hovered about this place till I was afraid the woman, 

 who saw me from the window, would think I had 

 some designs upon her premises. But I managed to 

 look very indifferent or abstracted when I passed. 



