PHILLIDA AND CORIDON. 121 



there in our journey ings, and chatted with for 

 an hour or two. We had never seen them be- 

 fore ; if we learned their names we have long 

 ago forgotten them ; but somehow the persons 

 themselves keep a place in our memory, and 

 even in our affection. 



" I crossed a moor, with a name of its own 

 And a certain use in the world, no doubt ; 

 Yet a hand's breadth of it shines alone 

 'Mid the blank miles round about: 



" For there I picked up on the heather, 

 And there I put inside my breast, 

 A moulted feather, an eagle-feather ! 

 Well, I forget the rest." 



Since we cannot ask birds for an explanation 

 of their conduct, we have nothing for it but to 

 steal their secrets, as far as possible, by patient 

 and stealthy watching. In this way I hope, 

 sooner or later, to find out what the golden- 

 winged woodpecker means by the shout with 

 which he makes the fields reecho in the spring, 

 especially in the latter half of April. I have 

 no doubt it has something to do with the proc- 

 ess of mating, but it puzzles me to guess just 

 what the message can be which requires to be 

 published so loudly. Such a stentorian, long- 

 winded cry ! You wonder where the bird finds 

 breath for such an effort, and think he must be 

 a very ungentle lover, surely. But withhold 

 your judgment for a few days, till you see him 



