Lapwings and Curlews. 



127 



— the cry of all nature's voices, to our thinking, of 



RESORT OF THE PEE-WIT. 



waste and solitary places; so that though mournful, 

 there is no harsh 



sense of inharmoni- 

 ousness.* If, indeed, 

 as the poet says, 

 "in nature there, is 

 nothing melancholy," 

 it must be because 

 of these nice and 

 often unnoticed ad- 

 justments of sound 

 to circumstances, and 

 of circumstances to sound, 

 curlews in their V- 

 like order. We can 

 scarcely imagine lap- 

 wing or curlew mak- .--?. 

 ing home in the leafy 

 coppice or green wood, 

 not to speak of the 

 richly cultivated park 

 or garden. 



Nothing will better 

 bring before you than curlew. 



* The French naively name them dix-huit (dees-weet), from their cry. 



And there go bands of 



