numerous bird amateurs, not least amongst whom was the naturalist I have already so often cited, the Hon. Daines Barrington.

It is interesting to note the different successive phases which the voice of a bird assumes. First, in very early days, comes the chirp, which is a mere note of recognition retained throughout the whole life, and possessed alike by the male and female bird. The chirp differs for different species, and has no analogy with the matured or full musical voice; for example, the chirp of the nightingale is harsh and discordant. When the bird is about a month old, another distinctive voice makes itself evident. Bird-fanciers term it "the call;" this also is retained as long as the bird lives, and until about the eleventh month it is the most elaborate vocal performance of which the bird is capable; then, however, it begins to "record," as the bird-fancier terms it; that is to say, begins to practise sotto voce, and with much hesitation, the full vocal register. It is amusing to listen to the stumbles, and hitches, and breakdowns which a recording bird encounters. No young lady studying her music-lesson could work more assiduously, or oftentimes more unavailingly. Piping bullfinches, and certain other birds to which the task of learning artificial music is assigned, are instructed by listening to some sort of musical instrument. Care should be taken that the instrument employed be perfectly in tune, or else the pupil will inevitably commit to memory the imperfections of it. This, again, is strange; and it serves, amongst other things, to show how much lower are the musical perceptions of birds than what might have been imagined from the nature of their executive talents. A human singer, whose musical perceptions are not incorrigibly bad, would by no means repeat these imperfections. It would require great exercise of will to do so in the slightest degree, and most persons could not do so at all. The tendency of a singer is to correct such imperfections as almost necessarily appertain to the tuning of certain musical instruments-the piano, for in

stance-no two notes of which are absolutely in tune one with another.

Let me conclude this notice of feathered warblers by just indicating the way in which musical tones are produced by the organization of their throats; for which purpose we will direct a glance at the construction of artificial wind instruments. Most people are aware that the tones of wind instruments are developed in one of three principal ways. In the clarionet, and instruments of that type, a thin slip of vibrating reed is the vocal machine: in the flute, and instruments like the flute, a column of air is merely set into vibrations by a peculiar application of the lips to the embouchure or mouth-hole: lastly, in the trumpet, and horn-tribe generally, it is the vibration of the lips themselves, tensely strained across an excavated mouth-piece, which develop the tone. Now, it is to the first and second methods alone that bird-voice is attributable; but the raw material of the voice (if I may so call it) is rude and unpolished; the delightful warblings which please listeners so much have to be moulded into consistency and order by a series of beautiful throat muscles, which it would be useless for me to write about, as only the anatomist can fully understand the fitness of their adaptation.

A VISIT TO THE FINCHES.

THERE are several families of birds included in the finch tribe, each comprising multitudinous individuals. Some are nigh at hand, always either within sight or hearing, on our house-tops or under the eaves of the roofs, while others are afar off, on the moors and mountains; so that of necessity only a passing call can be paid

to the more conspicuous or deserving of the race. They are all of diminutive size, have conical bills, with an undulatory flight, and are for the most part vegetable feeders, very handsome and quite as sprightly. They have also generally the art of constructing cosy, neat, and even beautiful homes; and though not remarkable for song, separately considered, except in one instance, they help to fill up and diversify the music of the groves, piping earlier in the spring and later in the summer than most of their compeers. To them, likewise, the merit may be assigned of not being dunces or obstinate under tuition, but so tractable, and with such a capacity for mimicry, as readily to perform a variety of tricks taught them in confinement, by the playfulness or folly of mankind. The Sieur Roman used to exhibit a number of goldfinches, linnets, and others of the genus, wonderfully trained. Thus, one appeared at his bidding as if dead, and was held up by the tail or claw without exhibiting the least sign of life; another stood on its head with its claws in the air; a third imitated a Dutch milkmaid going to market, with miniature pails on its shoulders; a fourth acted the part of a Venetian girl looking out at a window; a fifth, that of a soldier, and mounted guard as a sentinel; a sixth affected to be wounded, and was wheeled in a barrow, as if to the hospital, after which it flew away; a seventh turned a kind of windmill; and an eighth stood in the midst of some fireworks, which were discharged all around it, without showing any fear. It is all very well, if cage-birds there must be, to elicit their capabilities, and render them as agreeable as possible; but the taste is not to be envied that can sympathize with a training to such senseless and unnatural habits. Give us, however, the birds free; and "on the mountain all rugged and stark," or "in the forest all tangled and dark," we are quite content to have communion with them.

Let us pay our respects first to the chaffinch. This bird is found

all over Europe, but with us is one of passage, though some usually remain the winter, and are among the first heralds of the spring, uttering their notes as early as February. Linnæus noticed that only the females migrated from Sweden, leaving their males behind; and he bestowed the name of "colebs" upon the species, in reference to these apparently deserted unfortunates. Whether this is rigorously true in that country we know not, but the temporary separation of the sexes among birds is by no means an unusual occurrence. Hence, no special reason appears for calling Mr. Chaffinch a "bachelor." The male is a good-looking little fellow, about six inches in extreme length, with a white bill in winter, but dark blue from the pairing to the moulting season. The nest is nicely constructed in a hedgerow or fruit-tree, of moss and lichens on the outside, with an interior lining of wool, covered with hair and some feathers. Insects are taken for food, grain and seeds, young and tender vegetables, such as early sown radishes when just peeping above ground, to the great anger of market-gardeners. Owing to the gleesome activity of these birds, to be “as gay as a chaffinch" has become a common saying in France. They are very prominent from their numbers in the woodland concert, though their musical powers are not great. A few notes are uttered at the same pitch, with a variation at the close, corresponding to the style of the yellow-hammer, which the cow-boys render,

"A little bit of bread, and no cheese."

The chaffinch has a peculiar cry of alarm, which seems also to be used when the clouds threaten rain, and will be uttered for an hour together, corresponding to wet, wet, wet. The call of yak, yak, yak, is kept up while on migration, The bird is a prime favourite in Germany, especially with the Thuringian villagers, who will travel to the Harz mountains, a distance of eighty miles, to procure one with a good voice. The captives are soon taught a variety of short

strains, of which Bechstein has given several examples. One, called the Bridegroom's Song, consists of the words,

"Fink, fink, fink, fink, willst du denn mit dem Brautigam zieren ?" Finch, finch, finch, finch, wilt thou adorn thyself with the Bridegroom?"

Another is the Wine Song,

"Fritz, Fritz, Fritz! willst du mit zum Wein gehen?”

"Fred, Fred, Fred! wilt thou go with us to the wine?"

The last strain is ominous of not over-good company. Properly taken care of, the chaffinch is said to live twenty years.

While admired by every one for extreme beauty, the goldfinch is also a common bird, of great service in the fields and gardens. The seeds of some of the worst weeds are its food; and, as if conscious of being entitled to the protection of man, for keeping down noxious vegetation, the orchard near his dwelling is commonly chosen for a nestling place. Hurdis has noticed this habit:"I love to see the goldfinch twit and twit, And pick the groundsel's feathered seeds; And then in bower of apple blossom perch'd, Trim his gay suit, and pay us with a song."

The song has little variety, but the tone is rich, polished, and highly pleasing. The goldfinch lives to a great age. It is sometimes called the seven-coloured linnet, and the sheriff's man. A handsome bird, too, is the bullfinch, very amusing withal, being tractable to learn little arts, such as drawing up water for himself in a thimble-sized bucket, and raising the lid of a small box to get at the seed. The bird has only a few calls, but a good voice, and readily learns short musical measures. A far better songster is the greenfinch, sometimes called the green linnet, master of a few passages uttered in quick succession, but in very different tones. The two are often found in company, mischievously foraging on the