133 
BIRDS IN A VILLAGE. 
visitings " being distinctly different in origin and 
character from the poet's. He — Matthew Arnold — 
is a poet, and the author of much good verse, which 
I appreciate and hold dear. But he was not a 
naturalist — all men cannot be everything. And 
I, a naturalist, hold that the wishes thronging the 
restless little feathered breast are not altogether 
so incommunicable as the melodious mourner of 
" Poor Matthias " imagines. The days — ay, and 
years — which I have spent in the society of my 
feathered friends have not, I flatter myself, been 
so wasted that I cannot small my soul, just as the 
preacher smalled his voice, to bring it within reach 
of them, and establish some sort of passage. 
And so, thinking: that a little more knowledo^e of 
birds than most people possess, and consideration 
for them — for I will not be so harsh to speak of 
justice — and time and attention given to their wants, 
might remove this reproach, and silence these vague 
suggestions of a too fastidious conscience, I have 
taken the trouble to add something to the seed 
with which these little prisoners had been supplied. 
For we give sweetmeats to the child that cries for 
the moon — an alterative which often acts bene- 
ficially — and there is nothing more to be done. 
Any one of us, even a philosopher, would think it 
hard to be restricted to dry bread only, yet such a 
punishment would be small compared with that 
