230 Marsh. 



female alone lays above a thousand of her minute salmon- 

 coloured eggs. Well, we must not pursue this matter 

 farther now, or we shall not leave the marshes to-night. 



How delightful is everything about us this early summer 

 night; the sweet scent of the honeysuckle diffused on the 

 almost still air; the gentle rustling of the reeds, as they 

 sway against each other under the gentle breaths of air that 

 ever and anon break the stillness ; the loud buzzing of the 

 cock-chafer ; the cheerful light of the glow-worm ; above all, 

 the delicious melody of birds. Just before the glow-worm 

 puts forth her lamp, or the night-moths begin to fly ; just 

 before the night-jar snaps his wings, or the bat commences 

 its evening flight, there is a delicious outburst of woodland 

 song. " Good-night " it sings in soft and gentle accents, and 

 then a sweet strain of clearly defined and charming notes 

 from the delightful sedge-warbler falls in delicate cadence 

 on the ear from the reed-bed yonder ; again all is still save 

 the gentle murmuring of the whitethroat, and the sweet 

 good-night of the blackcap. As you listen for the sedge- 

 warbler again, clear and distinct from the oak-bough above 

 you come floods of delicious song. Up, up, the song ascends, 

 the singer knowing that he is now without compeer ; then it 

 falls in a number of trilling tones, until in silence one wonders 

 when the song ceased. Has it ceased, or is it still ringing in 

 our ears? No; the song we hear now is the distant melody 

 of the grasshopper warbler, which appears to live in amity 

 with its relative in the reed-bed yonder. Whilst meditating 

 on the variability of its note, Philomel again raises his voice 

 to welcome the first glimpse of the rising moon. The white- 

 throat and the blackcap have ceased their warbling ; they 

 have sung their last good-night, and left the two songsters 



