The Philomela of Suri'cv. 39 



unlearned, to listen to the bird. In our own neighbourhood we 

 have a " Nightingale-lane," with its thickety copses on either 

 hand, its young oaks and Spanish chestnuts shooting upwards, 

 and tangles of wild roses and thick masses of brambles throwing 

 their long sprays over old, mossy, and ivied stumps of trees, cut 

 or blown down in the last generation — little pools and water 

 courses here and there, with their many-coloured mosses and 

 springing rushes — a very paradise for birds. This is in Surrey, 

 and Surrey nightingales, it is said, are the finest that sing. 

 With this comes the saddest part of the story. Bird-catchers 

 follow the nightingale, and, once in his hands, farewell to the 

 pleasant copse with the young oaks and Spanish chestnuts, the 

 wild rose tangles, the little bosky hollow at the old tree root, in 

 one of which the little nest is built and the little wife broods on 

 her eggs ! 



Generally, however, the unhappy bird, if he be caught, is 

 taken soon after his arrival in this country ; for nightingales are 

 migratory, and arrive with us about the middle of April. The 

 male bird comes about a fortnight before the female, and begins 

 to sing in his loneliness a song of salutation — a sweet song, 

 which expresses, with a tender yearning, his desire for her com- 

 panionship. Birds taken at this time, before the mate has arrived, 

 and whilst he is only singing to call and welcome her, are said 

 still to sing on through the summer in the hope, long-deferred, 

 that she may yet come. He will not give her up though he is 

 no longer in the freedom of the wood, so he sings and sings, 

 and if he live over the winter, he will sing the same song the fol- 

 lowing spring, for the want is again in his heart. He cannot 

 believe but that she will still come. The cruel bird-catchers. 



