Box-Nests. 



141 



The robins, in the early spring, will sit and sing their 

 sweet snatches of song almost within arm's length of 

 you. 



Our vicar's delight in his 

 flowers, trees, and birds, as in- 

 dicating a freshness of feeling 

 and capability of youth- 



ful joyance, in spite of 

 sad turns of ill-health, is 

 beautiful to see. 

 The park is a 

 haunt of night- 

 ingales, which 

 discourse the 

 sweetest music 

 all through the 

 summer night ; 

 and this is an 

 additional de- 

 light and source 

 of pride to our 

 vicar, who in no 

 way wishes to 

 keep all his good 

 things to him- 

 self. 



One evening 

 in the end of 

 May, a year or 

 two ago, we 

 went, full of 



expectation, to listen to the nightingales. A crescent 

 moon hung in the silver-blue sky, and shed a soft 

 silvery lustre around, strong enough to make a pleasant 



-;.'f~ 



