146 With the Nightingales at the Vicarage. 



show themselves very stupid indeed if they did not 

 draw something of sweetness and depth from these 

 longing, plaintive, but triumphant notes of the nightin- 

 gale. And so the birds had to go away disappointed. 



When at last we turned and bade our friends good 

 night, it seemed that the nightingale's music followed 

 us for a mile or more through the scented sweetness 

 of the night : and that, as at last it grew faint, the notes 

 of other nightingales also came faintly on the ear from 

 far, and more distinctly nearer to us, as though nightin- 

 gales were sheltered in familiar spots close to our own 

 abode, where before we had never guessed them to be. 

 Or is it that the delighted ear is the only truly prepared 

 ear for kindred harmonies ? 



