those frequent breaks, which are so characteristic of the song of the nightingale, when heard at a little distance; it was one incessant warble. I can hardly call it a warble either; it was an unceasing effort; so much so, that I stood perfectly astonished, and at a loss to conceive how it was possible for so small a creature to exert herself so mightily. I began, however, to think, that the nest of the melodist could not be far off; and, as I had never yet seen the nest of the bird, I determined to watch her closely, in order to discover it. But, I was nearly giving up the search as useless; for, as soon as I entered the copse, no matter at what part I made my entrance, there was the nightingale close at my side, delighting me with her melody, and hopping from spray to spray, and from bush to bush, and thus leading me the round of the wood at her pleasure. When, however, all hope of finding the nest had nearly vanished, I fell in with it by pure accident, and I then discovered that the singing of the bird had always led me in a direction from the nest. The question with which I began, I would therefore again repeat-Are all birds in the habit of luring intruders from their nests?

Why do Birds sing?- As I have just been speaking of the nightingale, perhaps it is the most appropriate place for offering a few remarks upon the song of birds: a subject, by the way, of some difficulty. The question, Why do birds sing? has never yet been, I think, satisfactorily answered. It was supposed that the male sang to soothe the female during incubation. (Pennant, quoted in Rennie's Montagu.) There was plausibility in this; but then the question would immediately arise, Why are some birds denied song? Do the females of some birds require soothing more than others? Besides, birds sit during the night as well as the day, yet no bird but the nightingale sings during the night. The skylark frequently mounts so high that we not only lose sight of him, but we also lose all trace of his song: can the female then hear him and be soothed by his notes? Barrington (quoted in Rennie's Montagu) supposed the female to be silent, "lest her song should discover her nest." A singular conclusion, certainly, at the same time that it was supposed that the male sang to soothe the female during the period of incubation. If the song were poured forth for this soothing purpose, it must of course have been in the near neighbourhood of the nest, and consequently would be as likely to discover the nest as if the female herself sang; besides, do not the females of some birds sing occasionally, as well as the males? Now comes another theory. "The males of song birds do not, in general, search for the females, but, on the contrary, their business in the

spring is to perch upon some conspicuous spot, breathing out their full and natural notes, which, by instinct, the female knows, and repairs to the spot to choose her mate." (Montagu.) The female amongst birds has evidently the advantage over the human species, for she is the chooser, and not the object of choice. The same author tells us, that "birds cannot discriminate the colours by which their species is known;" and this is evidently put forth to account for the male "perching upon some conspicuous spot." But what say others? The nightingale sings "concealed in the thickest part of a bush or small tree." (Field Nat. Mag., i. 201.) Both statements are fact. The nightingale does sing in the concealment of a thick bush, and the song thrush sings, morning and evening, mounted on the highest spray he can find. I cannot suppose that he does this to lure the female to him, for I have never observed it to have that effect; besides, he does it for a very considerable portion of spring and summer; certainly after he is mated. Neither can I suppose that his song is poured forth for the purpose of soothing the female during the period of incubation; for, if that were the case, the soothing would be required as much by night as by day, and as much in the middle of the day as in the morning and the evening: besides all this, he frequently sings at Christmas, when he is neither mated nor seeking a mate. Let us come, however, to a still later opinion. "The songs of birds have given rise to several curious enquiries of no small interest. After investigating the subject with considerable attention for several years, we have come to the conclusion that the notes of birds, which we denominate singing, may all be referred to hilarity and joy, or to rivalry and defiance." (Rennie's Habits of Birds, 260.) In making this theory hold good, I think we shall find as many difficulties as in any other. Why is the nightingale more joyous than other birds during the night? Is the redbreast habitually more joyous than other birds? for he sings nearly the whole year round. If it be joy that stimulates to song, why do not the females sing as well as the males have they no joy? And why are some birds altogether denied song: are they joyless? The thrush breaks forth into song frequently in the winter, and the woodlark makes the December mornings resound with his song. How is it that these birds are so joyous when all others are gloomy? The meadow pipit, again, when disturbed from her nest, will mount up into the air to a considerable height, and then descend slowly, warbling with all her powers, until she reaches the ground. Is it any source of joy to the bird to be thus disturbed from her nest? This may be said to be "defiance."

To this I have only to reply, it is the usual and general note, and certainly a source of considerable pleasure to the rambler over our mountains, where they abound. But we must, I am fearful, conclude where we began: Why do birds sing? Pontnewydd Works, near Newport, Monmouthshire, Jan. 20. 1834.

ART. III. A Notice of the Imitative Powers of the British MockingBird, or Sedge Bird (Sylvia [Currùca] salicària), additional to that in V. 653, 654. By T. G., of Clitheroe, Lancashire.

I AM surprised that not any other correspondent has noticed the wonderful imitative powers of this bird. So far is my notice in V. 653, 654. (in that notice, "pelting notes," in p. 653. line 8. from the bottom, is a misprint for "fretting notes") from overrating this bird's imitative powers, that I have not enumerated above half the notes which it hits off with such wonderful exactness.

In listening to one the other day for about a quarter of an hour, I heard it give three notes of the swallow, two of the martin, two of the spring wagtail; and, in addition, notes of the sparrow, whinchat, starling, chaffinch, whitethroat, greenfinch, little redpole, and whin linnet (Fringilla Linòta); besides the notes of half a dozen birds which I did not know; at least a reasoning from analogy would induce me to think them imitations, and I have no right to suppose that they were not, because I did not happen to recognise them. I was not strictly correct when I said (in V. 653.) that it only imitates the alarm notes (called here the fretting notes) of other birds; for, although this is generally the case, it is not invariably so. For instance, in addition to producing the alarm note of the swallow, chiz-zee chiz-zee, it also had the whit whit which the swallow uses when flying about, and the chatter of self-satisfaction (not the song) which one often hears in a barn when two swallows are arranging their plan of operations in the spring. Again, in addition to the shriek of the martin, there was the note which it utters when on the wing, in pursuit of its food. There was also the chirrup of the greenfinch, and the whee whee whee which is the climax of the linnet's song, by which it is so irresistible as a call bird, and which appears to bring down the flock, in fact, in spite of themselves.

Although the sedge bird imitated all I have mentioned, it made much more frequent use of the notes of some than of others: the sparrow, the whinchat, the swallow, and the star

ling appeared to be its chief favourites; whilst it only touched once or twice on the notes of the greenfinch and the linnet. It had been very sparing, also, in its use of the chaffinch's note, until one in the neighbourhood had begun to twink twink twink; then the mocking-bird took it up, and twinked away for fifty times together. In the next morning the linnet's note was much more in request; and it also made more use of notes with which I was not acquainted. On neither day did it touch upon the notes of the redstart or pied wagtail, both of which I had heard frequently used by the mocking-bird before. On the other hand, I had not previously observed the notes of the starling and whin linnet, which this bird gave in perfection; and, therefore, though I have said, in my former communication (V. 653, 654.), that I had never heard it make use of the notes of any of the larks or thrushes, I would not be understood to say that this never happens. It is difficult to say, perhaps, that it has a note which is not an imitation; but there is one which it always makes use of when any person approaches the nest (intermixed, however, with the notes of the swallow, whinchat, and whitethroat): this is something like chur-r-r chur-r-r, prolonging the sound of the very considerably, and in a style which would be quite an acquisition to the Northumbrians, if they could attain it. May 29. 1834.

ART. IV. A Notice of the Songs of the Bramble Finch, the Mountain Linnet, and the Tree Sparrow; with Remarks on each Species. By Mr. EDWARD BLYth.

I AM not aware that the songs of these birds have ever yet been described. Mr. Selby, in his account of the first, observes, that he is "unable to say whether its notes ever vary in the spring, or whether it possesses any proper song." I have repeatedly heard its song in confinement, and have one now in my possession which sings frequently. Its song consists only of a few coarse unmusical notes, generally delivered in an under tone; and not the least resembling the chaffinch's song, nor that of any other bird with which I am acquainted. I hardly know how to describe the song of the bramble finch : if a person were to fill his mouth half full of water, and draw it slowly backwards and forwards through his teeth, the sound produced would not be much unlike it, at least in part. It also utters a kind of chuck, analogous to the twink of the chaffinch; and sometimes a hoarse jay-like call to its companions. The mountain linnet's song is chattering and inarticulate,

bearing a harsh resemblance to that of the linnet. Its notes are always hurried and indistinct; and are mostly delivered in successive bursts (if I may be allowed the term), sounding like several birds singing together, and reminding one of the firing of bells. I have never heard the sound twite, which it is alleged to utter; but its usual notes upon the furze much resemble those of the common linnet, being either a low tsu-tsu-tsu, or a loud chit chit. I may take this opportunity to mention, that, with the twite in confinement, the red on its rump entirely disappears on the first moult; as, from analogy with its congeners, might be anticipated.

The tree sparrow (Pásser arboreus? P. montànus Auct.) has been usually described to have no song; which is incorrect, for one in my possession frequently sings; and its notes are not altogether despicable, being far superior to those of the bramblefinch. The tree sparrow, like the common species, has a great variety of chirrups; one of which is peculiarly musical and sweet, and may be rendered pee-eu-weep. Its proper song consists of a number of these chirps intermixed with some pleasing notes, delivered in a continuous unbroken strain, sometimes for many minutes together; very loudly, and having a characteristic sparrow tone throughout.

This is a wild and untractable species in captivity; and, consequently, as birds always closely depress their feathers when frightened, appears, when looked at, remarkably slender yet, when at ease, and undisturbed, the tree sparrow always puffs its plumage so as to appear quite as bulky as the common species; and the individual which I have in confinement has generally this appearance, having lost much of its original wildness; still the species is undoubtedly more slender than the P. domésticus. The sexes of it may be distinguished easily by the smaller size, in the female, of the black spot on the side of the neck: in both, the bill becomes quite black in summer. I do not know how this bird came to be called "mountain sparrow," and "montànus;" for it appears to me, both from observation, and from what I have read of it, only to inhabit valleys; frequenting low damp situations where willows grow, and being more abundant in the flats of Lincolnshire than in any other part of Britain. The more appropriate term arbòreus, therefore, might as well be substituted for "montànus," if the latter is thus implicatory of error.

Were I to judge of the temper and disposition of the bramble finch from one which I kept in confinement last summer, I should call it one of the most untamable of birds; but, were I to form my judgment from the individual which I