While the church-bell rings its discourse They are sitting on the spires; Song and anthem, psalm and carol Quaver as from mystic lyres. Everywhere they flirt and flutter. Mate and nest in shrub and tree. Charmed, I wander yon and hither, While their beauties ravish me, Till my musings sing like thrushes, And my heart is like a nest, Softly lined with tender fancies Plucked from Nature's mother-breast. Elizabeth Grinnell. SINGERS AND THEIR SONGS And hark! The nightingale begins its song,-- "Most musical, most melancholy bird." A melancholy bird? Oh, idle thought. In nature there is nothing melancholy. .... 'Tis the merry nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast, thick warble his delicious notes. Coleridge. Some barbarous peoples possess a rude taste for the beautiful plumage of birds, decorating their bodies in feathers of softest and brightest tints. But we have record of few, if any, savage tribes the world over which delight in bird melody. True, the savage may seek his food by sound, or even song, but to feast the ear on music for music's sake--ah, this is reserved for culture. An ear cultivated to melody is one of the soul's luxuries. Attuned to sweet and varied sound, it may become the guide to bird secrets never imparted to the eye. Sitting in the close shrubbery of a home garden, or crouching moveless in a forest, one may catch whispers of bird language never imparted to human ears when the listener is moving about or talking with a comrade. If one has accidentally or by patience discovered the evening resort of shy birds, let him precede the birds by half an hour. Sitting low among rocks or fallen trees, having the forethought to wear plainly colored clothes, and as moveless as the neighboring objects, one may be treated to such a feast of sounds as will both surprise and entertain him. The birds will come close, and even hop over one's coat sleeves and shoes, though so much as a full-fledged wink may dissipate the charm. Just before bedtime there are whisperings, and salutes, and low-voiced conversations, and love notes, and "O's" and "Ah's" at sight of a belated insect, and lullaby ditties, and if one be possessed of a good deal of imagination, "evening prayers." Birds that fly from their night-time perches in the thick shrubbery in the morning dusk with a whirr, and a scream, or emphatic call-note, in evening time just whisper or sing in half-articulate tones.