comes reconciled. Bechstein gives it a very different character for he says that its song is a mere harsh disagreeable warble.

The redwings have been seen and heard in Surrey, Essex and Yorkshire, as late as May, by Mr. Blyth and Mr. William son; and in a cold backward season, they lingered in Hampshire, according to White, till June. Nests have occasionally been found in Middlesex and Surrey; but these were evidently accidental exceptions to the general rule. The Redwing's note, heard in Norway, is characterised by Mr. Hewitson as delightfully wild. Bechstein says its song is in no respect agreeable. Here, again, "who shall decide when, &c."

The ring-ouzel, which visits us in April, sings sweetly, according to Mr. Hewitson; clearly and powerfully, though the notes are few, according to Selby. This species is by no means widely dispersed; and the western and northern parts of our island seem to be preferred. Over Ireland they are generally distributed, according to Mr. Thompson. The nest, which is very like that of the common blackbird, is most frequently placed near the ground, or on it, sheltered by some stone or bush, and sometimes on the sides of heathy banks, without such shelter.

Here we may notice the elegant and beautiful rose-ouzel (Pastor roseus), of rare occurrence in these islands. The song of this species appears to be peculiar. A wounded bird shot from a flock by a sportsman near Meiningen, in Suabia, was soon healed and tamed by the kindness of M. von Wachter, the rector of Frickenhausen, and it began to sing. Bechstein relates that its warbling consisted at first of only a few harsh sounds, pretty well connected; but this in time became more clear and smooth. A connoisseur who had heard the bird without seeing it, thought he was listening to a concert of two starlings, two goldfinches, and perhaps a siskin; and when he saw that it was a single bird that made this music, he could not conceive how it all came from the same throat. One of these birds is now in the aviary of the Zoological Society in the Regent's Park.

The flute-like notes of the golden-oriole (Oriolus galbula), the Frenchman's Père Loriot, has been heard in our orchards, but very rarely. Bechstein states that its call-note, so familiar to the Spaniard and Italian, and not unfamiliar to the Frenchman and German, may be well expressed by the words "ye puhlo." The translator of Bechstein's interesting book says, that the natural song is very like the awkward attempts of a country boy with a bad musical ear to whistle the notes of a missel-thrush. But it is no bad mimic: for Bechstein saw two golden-orioles that were reared from the nest, one of which, independently of the natural song, whistled a minuet, and the other imitated the flourish of trum

pets. One of his neighbours saw two at Berlin, both of which whistled different airs.

Such accomplishments indicate a very correct ear; and, indeed, that organ is so nice in the oriole, that when the sportsman endeavours to approach it, whistling its note, the slightest mistake or false intonation warns the bird of the imposition, and it instantly flies away. The nest, which usually contains four or five white eggs, tinged with purple, and scantily spotted with ash-gray and claret, is generally suspended in a fork at the end of a bough; and the French have a saying purporting that the discovery of one bodes no good end to the finder.

But one regular visiter of the family Anthida, or pipit-larks, comes to these islands, and that is the tree-pipit (Anthus arboreus), so often confounded with the meadow-pipit (Anthus pratensis), which is a resident. The tree-pipit arrives late in April, and begins his pretty song on the top of a bush, or on a lofty branch of an elm. Presently up he goes, rising somewhat after the manner of a sky-lark, till he has ascended nearly as high again as the station from which he sprang; when, with outstretched wings and expanded tail, he makes a half circle in his slow descent, singing all the while, till he arrives at the spot from which he started, or reaches the top of some neighbouring tree; and this he will constantly repeat for many times in succession, if not disturbed. Mr. Yarrell saw these musical evolutions most frequently during and after a warm May shower, and we have watched the bird with the same success at the same periods; and it does make the heart glad to see him, and rejoice in his gladness, as he carols away with the bright sun shining on the emerald leaves, from which the rain-drops hang like diamonds, whilst the glorious rainbow tells of peace and good will to all creatures. The nest, formed of moss, fibrous roots, and dry grass, lined with grass, stems, and sparingly with hairs, is usually placed on the ground; but Mr. Neville Wood once found one on the lowest branch of a small thick bush. The four or five eggs vary in colour in different nests, but the most usual tints are purplebrown, or purple-red clouds or spots on a grayish white ground. Richard's-pipit (Anthus Ricardi) was first noticed by Mr. Vigors, as an occasional visiter, and though the appearance of others here has been recorded, they can only be considered as stragglers.

Of the true larks (Alaudide), the only visiter, and that accidentally, is the shore-lark (Alauda alpestris). Its range from north to south is great. Captain Sir James Ross, R.N., records one shot near Felix Harbour, and Captain Philip Parker King brought it from the Straits of Magellan; or more correctly, Magalhaens. The bird is a sweet singer, and Audubon, who found it

"on the dismal shore

Of cold and pitiless Labrador;

Where under the moon, upon mounts of frost
Full many a mariner's bones are tost,"

graphically describes its zealous parental affection.

66

Although in the course of our previous rambles along the coast of Labrador," says that eloquent and accurate ornithologist, "and among the numberless islands that guard its shores, I had already seen this lark while breeding, never before that day did I so much enjoy its song, and never before I reached this singular spot had I to add to my pleasures that of finding its nest. Here I found the bird in the full perfection of plumage and song, and here I had an opportunity of studying its habits, which I will now endeavour to describe.

"The shore-lark breeds on the high and desolate tracts of Labrador, in the vicinity of the sea. The face of the country appears as if formed of one undulated expanse of granite, covered with mosses and lichens, varying in size and colour, some green, others as white as snow, and others again of every tint, and disposed in large patches or tufts. It is on the latter that this lark places her nest, which is disposed with so much care, while the moss so resembles the bird in hue, that unless you almost tread upon her as she sits, she seems to feel secure, and remains unmoved. Should you, however, approach so near, she flutters away, feigning lameness so cunningly, that none but one accustomed to the sight can refrain from pursuing her. The male immediately joins her in mimic wretchedness, uttering a note so soft and plaintive that it requires a strong stimulus to force the naturalist to rob the poor birds of their treasure.

"The nest around is imbedded in the moss to its edges, which is composed of fine grasses, circularly disposed, and forming a bed about two inches thick, with a lining of grouse feathers, and those of other birds. In the beginning of July the eggs are deposited. They are four or five in number, large, grayish, and covered with numerous pale blue and brown spots. The young leave the nest before they are able to fly, and follow their parents over the moss, where they are fed about a week. They run nimbly, emit a soft peep, and squat closely at the first appearance of danger. If observed and pursued, they open their wings to aid them in their escape, and separating make off with great celerity. On such occasions it is difficult to secure more than one of them, unless several persons be present, when each can pursue a bird. The parents all this time are following the enemy overhead, lamenting the danger to which their young are exposed. In several instances the old bird followed us almost to our boat,

alighting occasionally on a projecting crag before us, and entreating us, as it were, to restore its offspring."

The harder billed or seed-eating singing-birds which pay us visits, mostly come among us late in the autumn, or in winter, as might be expected.

Of the Emberizida, or buntings, we have the Lapland bunting, the snow bunting, and the ortolan bunting. The Lapland bunting (Plectrophanes Lapponica), which is most lark-like both in its plumage and in the length of the hind claw, has rarely indeed. -but we believe as many as four different times,―been taken in this country. There was one in the cabinet of the late Mr. Vigors, bought at a market in London, and now in the museum of the Zoological Society. Mr. Yarrell has one which was caught near Brighton. Mr. Gould has recorded the capture of one a few miles north of London, and that in the Manchester Museum was taken near Preston, in Lancashire. The species is a native of the Arctic regions and the north of Europe, and Dr. Richardson notices it as breeding on the shores of the Arctic Sea. Though the instances above stated are the only occasions known to us on which this hyperborean bird has been captured in these islands, it is far from improbable that many visit us, especially in severe winters, or that several are taken in the lark nets without being detected by the captors and consumers: they have been occasionally caught with larks in the neighbourhood of Geneva. Bechstein says, "We should see them more frequently in Germany, if the bird-catchers who take them in their lark's net did not kill them both indifferently." The same author describes the song of the Lapland bunting in captivity as very similar to the linnet's; and remarks that the female also warbles, but only in the bullfinch's style.

The snow bunting, or snow flake (Plectrophanes glacialis), the mountain bunting, and the tawny bunting, are all identical, the variation of the plumage at different times and seasons having been the cause which led authors to describe the bird, in its various dresses, as belonging to a distinct species. It breeds in the northernmost of the American islands, and on all the shores of the continent, from Chesterfield Inlet to Behring's Straits, according to Dr. Richardson; and Captain Lyon found its nest of dry grass, carefully lined with a few feathers, and the hair of the deer, at Southampton Island, singularly placed.

"Near the large grave," says Captain Lyon, in his interesting description of an Esquimaux burying-place, "was a third pile of stones, covering the body of a child, which was coiled up. A snow bunting had found its way through the loose stones which composed this little tomb, and its now forsaken, neatly-built nest was found placed on the neck of the child. As the snow bunting

has all the domestic virtues of our English redbreast, it has always been considered by us as the robin of these dreary wilds; and its lively chirp and fearless confidence have rendered it respected by the most hungry sportsman. I could not on this occasion view its little nest, placed on the breast of infancy, without wishing that I possessed the power of poetically expressing the feelings it excited. Before going on board I placed boarding-pikes, men's and women's knives, and other articles which might be useful to the Esquimaux, on the huts and various piles of stones."

But if this familiar little bird was respected by the hungry mariners, luxury spares it not in the midst of plenty. In Austria they are caught and fattened with millet for the table of the epicure, according to Pennant. Mr. William Proctor, the curator of the Durham University Museum, informed Mr. Yarrell that he found the nests in Iceland with eggs from four to six in number. The male attended the female during incubation, and Mr. Proctor often saw him when he was coming from the nest rise up in the air and sing sweetly, with his wings and tail spread like the treepipit.* Mr. Macgillivray thinks it very probable that this pretty and varying species breeds on the higher Grampians, and perhaps in considerable numbers, but we are not aware of any instance of the nest having been found in our islands.

The translator of Bechstein's book remarks that the ortolan (Emberiza hortulana) is not found in Britain; but Mr. Yarrell, in his excellent work, has collected numerous evidences of its appearance here, some of the instances having occurred a considerable time since.

The bird is a regular summer visiter to the middle and north of Europe, nor is it scarce in some of the German provinces, where it arrives towards the end of April or the beginning of May. Bechstein states that they are then met with in orchards, amongst brambles, or in groves, where they build, particularly if millet is cultivated in the neighbourhood. He adds, that during the harvest they frequent the fields in families, and leave after the oats are gathered in. It is therefore remarkable that we do not see more of them. The absence of its favourite millet may perhaps be the cause that the ortolan does not visit us in numbers; but we suspect that more come than are noticed, and that they are taken by inaccurate observers for some other species. For instance, the back of the ortolan is very similar to that of the cirl bunting, so like indeed, that Mr. Yarrell's admirably executed front view of the bird was given, as he says, "to avoid repetition." Mr. Hoy informed Mr. Yarrell that he found the nests placed in slight hollows on the ground in corn-fields; they were rathe.

*See "Yarrell's British Birds."