BIRDS IN A VILLAGE. 
15 
never found my nightingale's nest. One day the 
bird came to the gate as usual, and was more alert 
and pugnacious than ever ; and no wonder, for his 
mate came too, and with them four young birds. 
For a week they were about the cottage every 
day ; then they dispersed, and one beautiful bright 
morning the male bird, in his old place near my 
window, attempted to sing, beginning with that 
rich, melodious throbbing, which is sometimes 
horribly called jugging , and following with half 
a dozen beautiful notes. That was all. It was 
July, and I heard no more music from him or from 
any other of his kind. 
I have perhaps vnritten at too great length of 
this bird. The nightingale was after all only one 
of the fifty-nine species I succeeded in identifying 
during my sojourn at the village. There were 
more. I heard the calls and cries of others in 
the wood and various places, but refused, except in 
the case of the too elusive crake, to set down any 
in my list that I did not see. It was not my 
ambition to make a long list. My greatest desire 
was to see well those that interested me the most. 
But those who go forth, as I did, to look for birds 
that are a sight for sore eyes must meet with many 
a disappointment. In all those fruit and shade 
trees that covered the village with a cloud of 
