122 
BIRDS IN A VILLAGE. 
soulfuUy breathed upon ? What faint melodious 
murmurings that float around us, mysterious and 
tender as the lisping of leaves ? Who could be 
so dull and exact as to ask the names of such 
choristers at such a time ! Earthly names they 
have, the names we give them, when they visit us, 
and when we write about them in our dreary 
books; but, doubtless, in their brighter home in 
cloudland they are called by other more suitable 
appelatives. 
Kew is exceptionally favoured for the reason 
mentioned, but birds are also abundant where 
there are no hired men with red waistcoats and 
brass buttons to watch over their safety. Why do 
they press so persistently around us ; and not in 
London only, but in every town and village, every 
house and cottage in this country ? Why are they 
always waiting, congregating as far from us as the 
depth of garden, lawn, or orchard will allow, yet 
always near as they dare to come ? It is not senti- 
ment, and to be translated into such words as 
these : " Oh man, why are you unfriendly towards 
us, or else so indifferent to our existence that you 
do not note that your children, dependants, and 
neighbours cruelly persecute us ? For we are for 
peace, and knowing you for the lord of creation, we 
humbly worship you at a distance, and wish for a 
share in your affection." No ; the small, bright soul 
