OTHER NEIGHBORS IN THE TREES. 221 



might say, next above. Had it not been for that fire we 

 stole one day, that Promethean spark, hidden in the ashes, 

 kept alight ever since, it had gone hard with us. Nature 

 might have kept her pet, her darling, high, high above us 

 — almost out of reach of our dull senses. 



2. What is our boasted speech, with its harsh, rude 

 sounds, to their gushing melody ? Wa learn music, cer- 

 tainly, with much pains and care. The bird can not tell 

 whether it be A sharp or B flat, but he sings. Our old 

 friend — the friend of our childhood — Mr. White of Selborne 

 (who had attended much to the life and conversation of 

 oirds), says : " Their language is very elliptical ; little is 

 said, and much is meant and understood.'' Something like 

 a lady's letter, is it not ? 



3. How wise we might grow if only we could "the bird 

 language rightly spell " ! In the olden times we are told 

 the caliphs and viziers always listened to what the birds 

 said about it before they undertook any new enterprise. I 

 have often thought I heard wise old folk discoursing when 

 a company of hens were busy on the side-hill scratching 

 and clucking together. Perchance some day we shall pick 

 up a leaf of that herb which shall open our ears to these 

 our inarticulate sounds. 



4. Why may we not (just for this summer) believe in 

 transmigrations, and find some elder civilization embodied 

 in this community of birds — all those lost arts taken wings, 

 not to fly away, but to come flitting and building in our 

 trees, picking crumbs from our door-steps ? 



5. Do they say birds are limited ? Who are we that 

 set bounds to this direct knowledge, this instinct ? Mathe- 

 matically constructive they certainly are. What bold archi- 

 tect has builded so snug, so airy a house — well concealed, 

 and yet with a good outlook ? We make our dwellings 

 conspicuous ; they hide their pretty art. 



6. We wiseacres, who stay at home instead of following 



