it is to
be feared that they gave Nurse Barlow many disturbed and anxious
moments, as they darted away from her to hide behind the bushes, or
rolled head over heels in the new-mown hay, quite regardless of clean
frock or embroidered suit.

It must be confessed that on this particular evening Willie was in a
specially mischievous humour, for, among other tricks, he directed the
attention of many small insects to his nurse's gown, where they remained
till jerked off in horror by the discomfited Nanny.

The Rook and Blackbird watched the party with no small interest and
amusement, and then as the shadows lengthened they flew away home.

It was such a lovely evening that, after seeing his wife and the young
ones comfortably settled in their nest the Blackbird took another short
flight before going to bed himself.

He halted on a hedgerow in a narrow lane, which bordered a deep wood.
The sky was lovely sapphire colour, pierced here and there by bright
stars.

It was wonderfully still, save for those indescribable sounds which ever
accompany the close of a summer's evening, those sounds which reveal to
us that the great pulse of life is still strong,--strong even at that
hour of repose,--the sleepy half-notes of the woodland bird, the
"droning flight" of the beetle, or the passing hum of a belated bee.
Tiny lamps, the glow-worm's "dusky light," shone here and there from the
hedgerow. No step sounded, the air was sweet with the perfume of
flowers, and had not yet lost the heat of a long summer day.

All at once, in the midst of the general stillness, there broke forth on
the night air a song so strange, so beautiful, that the Blackbird held
his breath to listen. It came suddenly; and from a tree close beside
him, a sweet low murmuring song, and then it changed to a swift "jug,
jug." This was followed by a shake, clear and prolonged, and then came a
"low piping sound," which, as the song ceased, the air gave back, as if
it were loth to lose the melody.

Once again the song broke forth, varied, and, if possible, more full,
more beautiful than before, finishing with the same low pipe. The
Blackbird gazed about him in ecstasy; who could the unseen minstrel be?

A very unpretending looking bird, with a brown back, and a dull white
breast was sitting on a beech-tree close by. Could that be the minstrel,
that plain insignificant looking bird?

And then as the Blackbird reflected, he all at once called to mind who
it was,--