128 BIRDS IN TOWN AND VILLAGE 



the spring, half a dozen sparrows just met together 

 in a garden tree, or among the ivy or creeper on a 

 wall, burst out suddenly into a confused rapturous 

 chorus of chirruping sounds, mingled with others 

 of a finer quahty, liquid and ringing. At such times 

 one is vexed to think that there are writers on birds 

 who invariably speak of the sparrow as a tuneless 

 creature, a harsh chirper, and nothing more. It 

 strikes one that such writers either wilfully abuse 

 or are ignorant of the right meaning of words, so 

 wild and glad in character are these concerts of town 

 sparrows, and so refreshing to the tired and noise- 

 vexed brain I But now when I hstened to the green- 

 finches in the village elms and hedgerows, if by 

 chance a few sparrows burst out in loud gratulatory 

 notes, the sounds they emitted appeared coarse, and 

 I wished the chirrupers away. But with the true and 

 brilliant songsters it seemed to me that the rippling 

 greenfinch music was always in harmony, forming 

 as it were a kind of airy, subdued accompaniment to 

 their loud and ringing tones. 



I had had my nightingale days, my cuckoo and 

 blackbird and tree-pipit days, with others too 

 numerous to mention, and now I was having my 

 greenfinch days ; and these were the last. 



One morning in July I was in my sitting-room, 

 when in the hedge on the other side of the lane, 

 just opposite my window, a small brown bird warbled 



