I o Summer Studies of Birds and Books chap. 



quick rise and a fall — also make up the full and 

 normal song of the bird. Now, when the practice 

 is beginning, it is just as if an old bowler who had 

 been laid low, let us say by influenza this sickly 

 season, were to find himself incapable of getting 

 much beyond his first two steps. When he gets 

 into the quicker ones he comes to grief from weak- 

 ness, and the ball drops from his hand. So with 

 the bird ; it is really more from the tone that I 

 divine he is at work, than any recognition of the 

 old familiar strain. But when I have once made 

 sure, I listen and hear him struggling to get on a 

 bit, rushing valiantly at his quick notes perhaps, 

 and only stopping short at the final jerk. If the 

 next morning be fine, I shall no doubt hear even 

 this last crowning glory of his song feebly hinted at ; 

 and then, having got so far, an ardent and assiduous 

 buxl, who wishes to be beforehand in his courting, will 

 sit on the same branch for an hour together and "bowl" 

 away in the wildest fashion, wide of the net at each 

 delivery, frequently collapsing entirely in the middle 

 of his action, but ever returning to the charge, 

 determined to hit the wicket before he leaves his 

 perch. I have often been the only audience while 

 this has been going on, and once I remember 

 laughing out loud at the absurdity of the per- 

 formance. To any one who knows well the full 

 and perfect song, there is nothing more comical in 



