THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 209 
a sight of these little creatures, always being much 
amused by their sprightly movements ; but all my 
endeavours to discover the vocalist proved fruitless ; 
and after getting my hands scratched by the furze, 
and my dress torn by the brambles, relinquished the 
search as a hopeless case, although the chirping 
frequently appeared almost under my hand. Had I 
then been aware of this little bird, I might possibly 
have been fortunate enough to have discovered the 
nest of one, as they build in the thickest furze bush, 
and in the midst of the prickly bramble. I have 
frequently heard them chirping late on a quiet 
summer's night, when all else, save themselves, 
seemed at rest ; but it is the skylark whose praise 
we are about to sing ; and how beautiful are the 
following lines to that lovely songster, by Words- 
worth : — 
Ethereal minstrel ! Pilgrim of the sky ! 
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ? 
Or while thy wings aspire, are heart and eye 
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground ? 
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will, 
Those quivering wings composed that music still ! 
T 2 
