much infested with it. He also asks me whether the sex of the mistletoe is likely to be determined by the tree on which it grows.* It is, perhaps, a fact worth mentioning, that the mistletoe has never been known to grow in Ireland. * "The mistletoe grows on the oaks in the Peninsula of India”See Murray's Demonstration of Evidence of Revelation, p. 241, ed. 1840. The same friend, who has pointed out the above passage to my notice, also observes, that in the correspondence of the late Sir James Smith (1, p. 460) is the following account of this plant:-"The oaks in the Arcadian mountains presented them with the true ancient mistletoe (loranthus Europæus,) while our misseltoe (viscum album) grows only on the silver fir." See also Tournefort's Tour in the Levant, vol. 3, p. 279. A dissertation on the medicinal properties of the misseltoe was published in 1729, by Sir John Albatch; and a treatise on Epilepsy, and the use of the viscus quercinus, or mistletoe of the oak, in the cure of that disease, by Henry Fraser, M.D. 1806. See also Plinii Nat. Hist. Lib. xvi. 95. The mistletoe must grow on the oak in the Morea, as it is called in Laconia igíodpvc. This is the viscum album. This plant grows on Parnassus, and is gathered by the herdsmen as food for the labouring oxen: it is called by the modern Greeks μέλλα. See Walpole's Memoirs of European Turkey, p. 281; and Falconer's tracts on Natural History, from the Writers of Antiquity, 4to. 1793. The loranthus is called ogos; a name wrongly given by Linnæus to the viscum. See Falconer (Tab. Alt.) p. 189. E 'Tis love creates their melody, and all This waste of music is the voice of love; Hence the glossy kind Try ev'ry winning way inventive love Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates, THOMSON. MUCH has been written respecting the song of birds, some attributing it to one cause, and some to another. The following interesting and authentic anecdote may, perhaps, throw some light on the subject. A gentleman of my acquaintance had an American Mocking-bird, in such health and vigour, that it was either constantly singing, or else imitating the various sounds it heard. In order to try the powers of this bird, its owner purchased a fine sky-lark. When placed in the same room with the mocking-bird, the song of the former was heard to echo through the house, as if it were chaunting "on fluttering wing" its well known welcome to the rising sun. The mocking-bird was silent for some time, but at last burst forth in the strains of the "aerial songster," but louder and clearer, as if mounting and stretching its wings towards heaven. The lark was silent from that moment, nor was a joyous note ever heard from it afterwards. Wishing to test the powers of the mocking-bird still further, an unusually large price was given for a black-bird, celebrated for its vocal powers. It was placed in the same room with the mockingbird; early on the second morning, its song was resumed, and its charming notes were warbled forth with all the sweetness and modulations, which may be heard in its native "thorny brakes." The mocking-bird listened, and was silent for some time, then all at once the blackbird's notes were heard to issue forth, but sweeter and louder than those of the woodland songster. The poor blackbird heard them, felt that it was conquered, remained silent, drooped, pined and died. From the above facts, emulation would seem to be one of the existing causes of the song of birds. When their powers are excelled, they appear to feel the disgrace of being conquered, and to lose all inclination to renew their former efforts. When the Nightingale first arrives, which is generally about the first week in April, it immediately begins to sing its song of love, in order to attract the notice of the female, whose appearance takes place sometimes three weeks after that of the male, as was the case this spring (1843). At this time, two nightingales may be heard pouring forth their delightful notes, both day and night, near each other. When a female arrives, a contest takes place for her, and when her choice has been made, the rejected bird quits the locality, and resumes its song in some other quarter. In this instance there is evident emulation, as if the loudest and most continuous songster had the best chance of bearing off the prize. During the period of incubation, the song is neither so frequent nor so loud as before, and is certainly not an emulative one. We may fancy it the song of satisfaction and happiness, or as intended to cheer the female during the performance of her task, as well as to assure her of the presence of her faithful partner. Caged birds may frequently be observed to sing from emulation, and this, I think, is the case with our charming Sedge-warbler. Whoever has passed along the river Thames on some silvery moon-lit night in summer, will have observed that the least noise has caused these warblers to pour forth their song on some of the little aits, each endeavouring to exceed the other in the loudness and continuity of it. A stone thrown amongst the willows, or the sudden splash of the oar near the ait, instantly causes them to sing with renewed energy. In the autumn, I have frequently observed two Robins singing like jealous rivals near each other, and then suddenly begin a fight, which often ends in the death of one of them. How different is the case with my favourite Swallow. No angry or jealous passion disturbs it, nor is there the least appearance of emulation in its song; on the contrary, it "twitters sweetly" from feelings of happiness and complacency, which cannot be mistaken, now and then darting to the nest, and uttering that little note of love, which I am so fond of hearing, and which is responded to by the female, while she is performing her allotted task of incubation. Gentle bird! it is a thousand pities, that you are often so wantonly destroyed, and that you are not permitted to rear your young in those sunny spots, which you have selected for the purpose. Gladly would I afford you the shelter of my projecting roof, where your clay-built nest should be protected from harm, and you might please me with your airy evolutions, and your pretty songs ; I delight to see How suddenly he skims the glassy pool, How quaintly dips, and with an arrow's speed His morning song twitter'd to dawning day.* But amongst our charming song-birds, I must not omit the Black-cap, which is, I think, quite on an equality with the nightingale. Its song does not appear to be emulous, but, as Mr. White observes, it pours forth very sweet, but inward * HURDIS. |