SUMMER VOICES. 43 



prismatic jewel ? From hill to hill the songs of 

 birds ring out, first and foremost those of the 

 blackbirds and thrushes, for moulting-time is far 

 off yet. Then in the lulls come the notes of the 

 minor singers, all in perfect harmony and keeping 

 with the surroundings. 



And with it all, at intervals, as if time was 

 specially set apart for these little birds to make 

 themselves heard in, comes the protesting plaint 

 of the wood-wren; and distinct, and in fact above 

 all, sounds a voice apart, which, if once heard in 

 full plaintive wail, will never be forgotten, — the 

 song of the hedge-sparrow, a sober-coloured little 

 singer. If you have the good fortune to hear it, 

 you will wonder at the power of the song. 



Only a few years ago — it almost seems but yes- 

 terday — I could hear the bubble and croon of 

 black-game, the crow of pheasant, also the chirr 

 of partridge, and the occasional wet-my-weet, or 

 as some interpret it, bit-by-bit, close to my own 

 home ; indeed, a fine blackcock once took refuge 

 under a fruit -bush in my own garden, where it 

 could easily have been captured, but it was left 

 to go in peace. 



