THE NIGHTINGALE. 
87 
notes which you never hear but when the birds feel the 
temperature of the air vohiptuous"^/^ Its history has been 
given by Mr. Gosse in a former volume of this series^ so we 
are contented to give the following beautiful extract from 
^ A Journal of Summer-time in the Country/ by the Rev. 
Eobert Aris Willmott, in whose county of Berks, by all 
accounts, before and after the days of Miss Mitfordf, this 
exquisite songster particularly abounds ; and 
" On the bough, 
Sole-sitting, still, at every dying fall, 
Takes up again her lamentable strain 
Of winding love, till wide around the woods 
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound." — Thomson. 
" He left us/'' says Mr. Willmott, ^^in August, and has 
been away between eight and nine months. What he must 
have seen and heard in his long vacation ! While the snow 
froze on my window, and his neighbour the robin sat piping 
on that sparkling bough, where was he ? Probably enjoying 
a run among the Greek Isles. I have read of a naturalist 
who understood the bird-language : why did he not give les- 
sons ? I should like to ask this nightingale a few questions 
* Letters, Conversations, and Recollections of S. T. C. ii. 212. 
t See the charming pictures of English life and scenery in the pages of 
* Our Village.' 
