12 
BIRDS IN A VILLAGE. 
I saw much more of them, especially of one in- 
dividual, the male bird of a couple that had made 
their nest in a hedge a stone's throw from the 
cottage. A favourite morning perch of this bird 
was on a small wooden gate four or five yards 
away from my window. It was an open, sunny 
spot, where his restless, bright eyes could sweep 
the lane, up and down ; and he could there also 
give vent to his superfluous energy by lording 
it over a few sparrows and other small birds that 
visited the spot. I greatly admired the fine, alert 
figure of the pugnacious little creature as he 
perched there so close to me, and so fearless. His 
striking resemblance to the robin in form, size, 
and in his motions, made his extreme familiarity 
seem only natural. The robin is greatly dis- 
tinguished in a sober-plumaged company by the 
vivid tint on his breast. He is like the autumn 
leaf that catches a ray of sunlight on its surface, 
and shines conspicuously among russet leaves. 
But the clear brown of the nightingale is beautiful 
too. 
This same nightingale was keeping a little sur- 
prise in store for me. Although he took no notice 
of me sitting at the open window, whenever I 
went thirty or forty yards from the gate along the 
narrow lane that faced it, my presence troubled 
him and his mate only too much. They would 
