he do it in the daytime if he must do it at all?" (She spoke, of course,
in twitters, but I am confident the above is a correct translation.)

After a while, the young thrushes would wake up and begin chirping, and
then the mother would get madder than ever.

"Can't you say something to him?" she would cry indignantly to her
husband. "How do you think the children can get to sleep, poor things,
with that hideous row going on all night? Might just as well be living
in a saw-mill."

Thus adjured, the male thrush would put his head over the nest, and call
out in a nervous, apologetic manner:--

"I say, you know, you there, I wish you wouldn't mind being quiet a bit.
My wife says she can't get the children to sleep. It's too bad, you
know, 'pon my word it is."

"Gor on," the corncrake would answer surlily. "You keep your wife
herself quiet; that's enough for you to do." And on he would go again
worse than before.

Then a mother blackbird, from a little further off, would join in the
fray.

"Ah, it's a good hiding he wants, not a talking to. And if I was a cock,
I'd give it him." (This remark would be made in a tone of withering
contempt, and would appear to bear reference to some previous
discussion.)