BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 17 



their brown faces ; rounded eyes staring — ^what an 

 extraordinarily wild appearance they had ! I was 

 back 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 undisturbed 

 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 ; then 

 they dispersed, and one beautiful bright morning 

 the male bird, in his old place near my window, 

 attempted to sing, beginning with that rich, melo- 

 diovis 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 hfs 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 identifying during 

 my sojourn at the village. There were more, I heard 

 the calls and cries of others in the wood and various 

 places, but refused, except in the case of the too 

 elusive crake, to set down any in my list that I did 



