A HUNT FOR THE NIGHTINGALE. 117 



and cried by the hour, while its mother was busy 

 with her rake not far off. The rain had ceased, the 

 hay had dried off a little, and scores of men, women, 

 and children, but mostly women, had flocked to the 

 fields to rake it up. The hay is got together inch by 

 inch, and every inch is fought for. They first rake 

 it up into narrow swaths, each person taking a strip 

 about a yard wide. If they hold the ground thus 

 gained, when the hay dries an hour or two longer, 

 they take another hitch, and thus on till they get it 

 into the cock or " carry " it from the windrow. It 

 is usually nearly worn out with handling before they 

 get it into the rick. 



From Selborne I went to Alton, along a road that 

 was one prolonged rifle-pit, but smooth and hard as a 

 rock ; thence by train back to London. To leave 

 no ground for self-accusation in future, on the score 

 of not having made a thorough effort to hear my 

 songster, I the next day made a trip north toward 

 Cambridge, leaving the train at Hitchin, a large pic- 

 turesque old town, and thought myself in just the 

 right place at last. I found a road between the sta- 

 tion and the town proper called Nightingale Lane, 

 famous for its songsters. A man who kept a thrifty 

 looking inn on the corner (where, by the way, I was 

 again refused both bed and board) said they sang 

 night and morning in the trees opposite. He had 

 heard them the night before, but had not noticed them 

 that morning. He often sat at night with his friends, 

 with open windows, listening to the strain. He said 



