422 
BIRD-LIFE. 
I heard the Song Thrush and Starling, near Toledo, 
begin their piping lay; in Egypt I saw the last named 
even in February, sitting on the back of a buffalo, robed 
in its bright purple-coloured vest, singing a bright spring 
carol, replete with every note of a northern spring. The 
nearer the time for departure the louder the outburst of 
song in the south. Every little stranger clears its 
throat: the Lark sings the while it wings its spiral 
flight; the Wood Lark warbles its lovely sonnet. One 
and all awake to song. The old sadness vanishes; 
all want and winter’s cares are forgotten; the male 
encircles the female; the primaeval power of love has 
turned even a foreign land into-a paradise. And, now, 
all will soon be silent in the south. One after another 
the little exiles take their departure for the land where 
they first learnt to sing; one after another they leave the 
foreign shore, and seek their much-loved home. 
