THE BIEDS AND THE BOOK- 13 



amidst the apple-bloom in Maj-, or feeding on 

 the thistle in Juty and August, clinging to 

 the downy heads, twittering as he passes from 

 plant to plant, showing his gay livery of crimson, 

 black, and gold ; or the sedentary bullfinch, a 

 miniature hawk in appearance, with a wonder- 

 ful rose-coloured breast, sitting among the 

 clustering leaves of a dark evergreen — yew or 

 holly. 



Beautiful birds are all these, and there are 

 others just as beautiful in other passerine 

 families, but alas ! they are at a distance from 

 us ; they live in the country, and it is only that 

 small ' whiff of the country ' to be enjoyed in a 

 public park which fate allows to the majority of 

 Londoners, the many thousands of toilers from 

 year's end to year's end, and their wives and 

 children. 



To those of us who take an annual holiday, 

 and, in addition, an occasional run in the 

 country, or who are not bound to town, it is 

 hardly possible to imagine how much is meant 

 by that little daily or weekly visit to a park. 

 Its value to the confined millions has accordingly 

 never been, and probably cannot be, rightly 

 estimated. For the poor wdio have not those 



