is very sweet; this bird, from the changes in its plumage consequent on the seasons, has lost its individuality with some authors, and has been described, according to the state of its dress, as the Linnet or Gray Linnet and the Greater Redpole. A bush of furze is a favourite place for the nest, which is framed of interwoven moss, grass, stalks, and wool, lined with hair and feathers; the eggs, amounting to four or five, are bluish white, mottled with purple-red.

We now come to one of the most common of our English birds, the Chaffinch,* whose song seems as much neglected in England as it is worshipped on the continent. Not that there are no instances of its melody being prized with us, and indeed as much as five guineas have been given for one with an uncommon note; but with the Thuringian, the admiration of the Chaffinch's song becomes a passion. He will travel miles if he hear of the arrival of a wild one with a good note from a neighbouring country, and will sell his cow to possess it. He has created a set of terms to designate the eight different "songs" which his ear has detected, and, when he obtains a bird that sings the best of these in perfection, hardly any price will tempt him to part with it. To procure a good Chaffinch, a common workman will deprive himself almost of necessaries till he has saved the money which is to make him happy by the possession of his favourite songster. The Thuringian Fanatico carries his admiration to an excess that would be incredible if Bechstein had not given the details with a most amusing_fidelity, describing at length all the songs, from the Double Trill of the Hartz, the Reiterzong, and the Wine song, to the Pithia or Trewethia. To his interesting and well-translated book we refer those who are curious in tracing such phenomena of the human mind; the passion for the rare varieties of the Chaffinch's song appears to be, with reference to the ear, what the Tulip mania was, and, indeed, in great measure, is, with regard to the eye.

The nest of the Chaffinch in this country is a masterpiece of art: in the fork of some ancient apple-tree, venerable with mosses and lichens (which are carefully collected for the outside of the symmetrical fabric so as to make it assimilate with surrounding objects), this fine piece of workmanship of closely-interwoven wool and moss is fixed: feathers and hair render the inside a soft, warm, cozy bed for four or five bluish-white pink-tinged eggs, which are variegated with spots and streaks of impurpled red. The love-note of the cock Chaffinch is heard almost as soon as that of the Blackbird; for the species is very early in preparing for the hopes of the year.

Fringilla Colebs.

The débonnaire Goldfinch* builds one of the most elegant nests that our English Finches produce: moss, lichens, wool, and dry grass, artistically intertwined, form the outside of the fabric, which is generally hidden in a quiet orchard or secluded garden, where, in the midst of some evergreen-an arbutus perchance-it is protected from the prying eye by the compact, leafy screen of the well-grown, healthy shrub; the delicate down of willows, or dwarf early-seeding plants, the choicest lamb's wool and the finest hair, form the warm lining on which the bluish-white eggs, dotted with a few rich brown spots, are deposited. The beautiful plumage and sweetly-varied song of the Goldfinch make it a great favourite; hence it is frequently consigned to captivity, and taught to draw its water in a little fairy bucket, or to perform many tricks, some of which have quite a theatrical air: a lookingglass is frequently provided for it, and, from the solace which the mirror affords to the bird, it has been supposed to be the vainest of finches. Let us not, however, be too sure that all this ogling of the reflected form is mere admiration of its own sweet person. Pause, fair lady, before you pronounce this bird to be a little coxcomb. The plumage of the sexes is very nearly similar, the hues of the female being only rather less brilliant, and the prisoner daily deludes himself that the mate which he is doomed never to see is come to visit him.

Most affectionate in disposition, it seems absolutely necessary to the Goldfinch's existence that he should have something to love. The translator of Bechstein's little book above alluded to informs us that Madame had one that never saw her depart without making every effort to quit his cage and follow her: her return was welcomed with every mark of delight; she approached -a thousand winning gestures testified his pleasure; she presented her finger, and it was caressed with low and joyous murmurs: "this attachment," continues the narrator," was so exclusive, that, if his mistress, to prove it, substituted another person's finger for her own, he would peck it sharply, whilst one of his mistress's, placed between two of this person's, would be immediately distinguished and caressed."t

The finches are, for the most part, granivorous; it is not to be supposed, however, that they do not occasionally feed on caterpillars, especially in the early part of the year: but seeds form their staple, and some are of opinion that the Goldfinch never touches insects; but we now turn to a group of singing birds whose nourishment is principally derived from those animals.

The Stone-chatt pours forth its varied and pretty song as it * Carduelis communis-Fringilla Carduelis, Linn.

† Cage Birds, &c., by J. M. Bechstein, with notes by the translator; small 8vo. London; Orr and Smith. Saxicola rubicola.

*

hovers over the golden furze which contains its nest; and the Pied Wagtail, a resident in the southern counties of England, warbles to its mate very early in the year from the cattle-shed or the garden-wall, though it is more familiar to us as it runs along the grass-plat or by the margin of the pond, capturing its insectfood. The scarce Dartford Warbler,t like the Stone-chat, utters its hurried trill on the open downs, generally while hovering over the furze, in which it hides itself on the slightest alarm. The familiar Hedge-sparrow‡ cheers us with its agreeable song at a very early period of the year, when bird-music is scarce.

The notes of the Gold-crested Wren,§ the smallest of British birds, can hardly be called a song, but they salute the ear in the beginning of February, and the beautiful little bird, with its elegant nest and pale-brown eggs, weighing nine or ten grains each-the bird weighs no more than eighty-must not pass unnoticed. A pair, which took possession of a fir-tree in Colonel Montagu's garden, ceased their song as soon as the young were hatched; and, when they were about six days old, he took the nest and placed it outside his study window. After the old birds had become familiar with that situation, the basket was brought within the window, and, afterwards, was conveyed to the opposite side of the room. The male had regularly assisted in feeding the young ones as long as they remained outside the window; and, though he attended the female afterwards to that barrier, he never once entered the room, nor brought any food while the young were in it. But the mother's affections were not to be so checked:—she would enter, and feed her infant brood at the table where Colonel Montagu was sitting, and even while he held the nest in his hand. One day he moved his head as she was sitting on the edge of the nest which he held. She instantly retreated— so precipitately, that she mistook the closed for the open part of the window, dashed herself against the glass, and lay apparently breathless on the floor for some time.

Neither the fright nor the hurt could, however, overpower her maternal yearnings. Colonel Montagu had the pleasure of seeing her recover, and soon return, and she afterwards frequently fed her nestlings while he held the nest in his hand. The little mother's visits were generally repeated in the space of a minute and a half, or two minutes, or, upon an average, thirty-six times in an hour; and this continued for full sixteen hours in a day, which would amount to seventy-two feeds daily for each, if equally divided between the eight young ones, amounting in the whole to five hundred and seventy-six. "From examination of the food," + Sylvia provincialis.

Accentor monularis.

Motacilla alba. § Regulus cristatus. There are two species, viz., Regulus aurocapillus (Gold-crested Regulus), and Regulus ignicapillus (Fire-crested Regulus).

says the Colonel, "which by accident now and then dropped into the nest, I judged, from those weighed, that each feed was a quarter of a grain upon an average, so that each young one was supplied with eighteen grains weight in a day; and, as the young birds weighed about seventy-seven grains when they began to perch, they consumed nearly their weight of food in four days at that time. I could always perceive by the animation of the brood when the old one was coming; probably some low note indicated her approach, and, in an instant, every mouth was open to receive the insect morsel."

are not.

When we made our annual pilgrimage last year to Mr. Waterer's at Knapp Hill, we were attracted, even surrounded as we were by that wilderness of sweets-that assemblage of all that is rich and delicate in colour, when the azalias and rhododendrons form one splendid mass of bloom, almost too beautiful for this earth-by one of these little birds that had her nest in a yew hedge skirting one of the paths. An intelligent lad pointed out the "procreant cradle," put in his hand, and took out one of the young ones, then nearly fledged. After it had been viewed and admired-for it was very pretty, as most young birds -he replaced the tiny creature, and, to the inquiry whether the parents would not forsake the nest if so disturbed, he replied in the negative, adding that they were old acquaintance, and "didn't mind," for he often took the young ones out to "see how they got on." As soon as the nestling was returned to its happy home, the parent, that had been watching the proceedings from a neighbouring rhododendron gorgeous with flowers, among which her small bright streak of a crest still shone brilliantly, repaired to her family, and covered them with her wings, as if nothing had happened. We trust that Mr. Waterer's noble collection has been spared by the ruthless season which, even now, chills us as we write; but we shall go to Knapp Hill under the fear that his lovely and rare hybrids have been sadly scathed. The air is pure and mild there, it is true; but his Americans

"All unfit to bear the bitter cold,"

must have had a severe trial, when hardy, indigenous plants have suffered.

Although the Gold-crested Wren braves our severest winters, it appears to be very susceptible of cold, as well as the common Brown Wren of our hedges. The Hon. and Rev. W. Herbert informs us, that, in confinement, the least cold is fatal to them. In a wild state, he says, they keep themselves warm by constant active motion in the day, and at night, secrete themselves in places where the frost cannot reach them; but he apprehends

that numbers perish in severe winters. He once caught half a dozen Golden Wrens at the beginning of winter, and they lived extremely well upon egg and meat, being exceedingly tame "At roosting-time there was always a whimsical conflict among them for inside places, as being the warmest, which ended, of course, by the weakest going to the wall. The scene began with a low whistling call among them to roost, and the two birds on the extreme right and left, flew on the backs of those in the centre, and squeezed themselves into the middle. A fresh couple from the flanks immediately renewed the attack upon the centre, and the conflict continued till the light began to fail them. A severe frost in February killed all but one of them in one night, though in a furnished drawing-room. The survivor was preserved in a little cage, by burying it every night under the sofa cushions; but having been, one sharp morning, taken from under them before the room was sufficiently warmed by the fire, though perfectly well when removed, it was dead in ten minutes."

The common Wren* is too often shot by the sportsman for the sake of the tail-feathers; these, when skilfully manipulated, admirably represent the spider of February, March, and April, when any thing like an insect is considered a bonne bouche by the rout; and, indeed, the deceit, if lightly cast by a nice hand on the ripple, is sure to take fish, and good ones, too, "if," as old Izaak hath it, "they be there." The bird may be followed up and down the hedge-row till it will suffer itself to be taken by the hand. Then borrow-steal if you will-two or three of the precious feathers - but let the little warbler go to enjoy its liberty, and furnish "Wren's tails" for another year.

We must not forget the Redbreast, as we conclude this imperfect sketch of Resident British Song Birds, already too long. This, the familiar household bird, with its innocent confidence, would, we might have hoped, bear a charmed life everywhere but no. Sonnini tells us that it arrives in the Levant in October, seldom passing into the open islands, but seeking the luxuriant myrtle-groves of Scio, and those other isles which offer shade and shelter. There the Greek bird-catcher takes them by dozens in the snares to which, assured by the presence of their murderer, they offer themselves; and the same war is waged against them, we are sorry to add, in other foreign countries, that one more dish may be added to the luxury and profusion of the table of Dives. With us this friendly bird is, and we trust ever will be, sacred. When every thing is fettered by frost

"When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail"—

* Troglodytes Europeus, Motacilla Troglodytes, Linn.