BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 19 



in very old times, in the Britain of a thousand 

 years before the coming of the Romans, and these 

 were her young barbarians, learning their life's 

 business in little things. 



No, the birds of the village were not undis- 

 turbed while breeding; but happily the young 

 savages never found my nightingale's nest. One 

 day the bird came to the gate as usual, and was 

 more alert and pugnacious than ever; and no 

 wonder, for his mate came too, and with them 

 four young birds. For a week they were about 

 the cottage every day, when they dispersed, and 

 one beautiful bright morning the male bird, in 

 his old place near my window, attempted to sing, 

 beginning with that rich, melodious throbbing, 

 which is usually called "jugging," and following 

 with half-a-dozen beautiful notes. That was all. 

 It was July, and I heard no more music from him 

 or from any other of his kind. 



I have perhaps written at too great length of 

 this bird. The nightingale was after all only one 

 of the fifty-nine species I succeeded in identify- 



