Orchard Aisles 215 



February air, its one exuberant phrase is tossed from 

 bird to bird among the boughs. The chaffinch loves, 

 perhaps, an old orchard more than any other of its 

 haunts. But it is an extremely abundant bird, 

 inhabiting some moorland villages which are even 

 unvisited by the sparrows ; and it is not generally 

 realized how much of the exhilaration and sweetness 

 of the whole English song-time we owe to this one 

 bird. It flourishes out its phrase with a gaiety 

 which can never become monotonous, and an 

 unostentatiousness which makes no formal appeal ; 

 and the beauty of its plumage and the sprightliness 

 of its ways are as welcome as its song. 



The chaffinch nests in the orchard boughs in the 

 weeks when their blossom is at its height. The 

 apple-blossom breaking among the half-spread foli- 

 age from the gnarled and ancient boughs is one of 

 the most beautiful features of the English year. 

 The perry orchards and scattered pear trees bloom, 

 like the plum and almond trees, before the leaves 

 expand ; but gladly though we view their signals 

 of spring, their naked blossoms lack the beauty of 

 the mingled green, and their whiteness seems opaque 

 and sterile in comparison with the pink-flushed 

 apple bloom. From its close kinship with the crab- 

 blossom of the native thickets, the apple-flower 

 keeps a tinge of unspoilt wildness which is deeply 

 in keeping with the whole beauty of the English 

 land. Probably its attraction is enriched, also, 

 by the promise of the fruit to come ; for the sense 

 of long utility to man is one great element in rural 

 beauty. It is certain that there is no scene more 



