From Fox's Earth 



and how expressive. Some of the notes seem 

 to be telling the young I am coming up the lane, 

 and that they must lose themselves in the shadow, 

 or among the twigs and the leaves. 



The August linnet is a charming bird ; it meets 

 us in so many places and so many ways. It 

 seems to take possession of the countryside. 

 Here it is everything, and everywhere. Perched 

 on the top bar of a fence, it sings its tinkling 

 song almost without a break. It fills more of the 

 autumn air with music than the robin, which 

 sings but now and then, and with frequent breaks. 

 In the late afternoon, when the shadows are fall- 

 ing westward, it flies to some favourite tree or 

 trees, where it meets other linnets, and all sing 

 their tinkling song in chorus. Wherein it differs 

 from the robin, which never sings in company. 



Now a family of rose-linnets are bobbing high 

 over the fence, tinkling as they go, to light on the 

 grain-field beyond. The most charming of Scots 

 birds finds a golden cage whose wires are the 

 slender stalks of the single grains in the most 

 charming of Scots cereals. Others may laugh 

 at the oats, because of the free use the nation is 

 supposed to make of it when ground. But it is 

 hard to beat full grown, and with the head shaken 

 free ; harder still in its golden tint as now. With 

 how infinite a grace do the pendent grains drop 

 round a linnet. Friendships are made there it 

 may be as the heads sway together from the 



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