sound of music. When once our songster has fairly entered upon his strains, it is extremely difficult to disturb him. I have frequently for the sake of experiment, thrown a stone into the very bush where he was performing, apparently without producing the slightest effect; and have approached within two or three feet of the branch on which he was perched, without his appearing to heed me in the least; on making a nearer approach, however, the song ceased for a few moments, and then recommenced at the distance of about ten yards off. When disturbed in this manner, the peculiar guttural sound is frequently emitted, as if the bird was scolding you for intruding on his solitude. Little seems to have been ascertained with regard to this sound. Pennant says that "when the young first come abroad, and are helpless, the old birds make a plaintive and jarring noise, with a sort of snapping as if in menace, pursuing the passengers along the hedge." (Br. Zool. ed. 1812; Vol. I. p. 496). Асcording to Knapp (Journ. of a Nat.) "the croaking of the Nightingale in June and the end of May, is not occasioned by the loss of voice, but by a change of note, -a change of object." Bechstein, in his excellent Cage Birds, informs us that "in anger, jealousy, rivalry, or any extraordinary event, he (the Nightingale) utters hoarse disagreeable sounds, somewhat like a jay or a cat." It is much to be regretted that Montagu, Selby, and Mudie, are silent on this subject. Now it appears to me extremely doubtful whether this croaking sound does proceed from the male, as seems to be the opinion of Bechstein and Knapp. At all events I am certain of this, that it is not made by the male alone; as I have more than once heard the male singing in one bush, whilst the female was uttering its frog-like croak at the distance of many yards from its mate. Some authors have supposed that this guttural noise is not heard until the end of May; this, however, my own experience enables me to contradict, having frequently heard it before the song commences-so early as the end of April.

I one night started a Ring Pigeon (Columba palumbus, Linn.) close to the tree in which the Nightingale was singing; the loud rustling of the Pigeon's wings did not, however, in the least disturb Philomel in his miserabile carmen, who seemed well aware that he had nothing to fear from so gentle and harmless a creature. The Brake Nightingale is by no means the only bird whose notes are heard in the night time; there is one other nocturnal songster amongst the Sylviade, whose notes, though far inferior to those of the Nightingale, are by no means monotonous or unpleasant-I mean the Sedge Reedling (Salicaria phragmites, Selby). If a stone be thrown into a bush where one of these birds is roosting, it will immediately begin to sing. The other " birds of the night" are, the European Nightjar (Vociferator Europæus, mihi; Caprimulgus Eur. auct.), the Peewit Lapwing (Vanellus cristatus), the Meadow Crake (Crex pratensis), the Common Gallinule (Gallinula chloropus, Lath.), the Barn Owl

(Strix flammea), and occasionally, though seldom, and only on clear moonlight nights, the Grey Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus). The Wild Duck (Anas boschas) and Canada Goose (Anser Canadensis, Will.) are also-like most other Anatidæ, Leach-very active and clamorous in the night season. But to return to the subject of this article.

The Brake Nightingale, as before stated, is very rarely to be seen either in the day-time or at night, its habits being extremely shy and retired. When forced to leave the tree on which it is singing, it does not fly across to the tree on which it intends to alight, but flutters round through the bushes, and ascends the tree by hopping upwards, thus eluding observation. I have never found the nest of this species, nor, indeed, is it an easy matter to discover it, as its colour assimilates so closely with the surrounding leaves, which had fallen the preceding autumn. It is composed of oak leaves of the former year, lined with dry grass, and is placed on the ground. The eggs from four to six in number, are of an olive brown colour, and nearly elliptical. Hewitson has not yet figured the egg of this bird in his beautiful British Oology,* but Lewin has given a tolerably good representation of it in his Birds of Britain.

A friend informed me last summer that some years ago only one Nightingale was heard in Kensington Gardens, which are annually visited by six or seven; and this Nightingale was at length discovered to be a man imitating the song of that bird, and who had mingled with the crowd every night, carolling, as he walked along, the well-known strains of sweet Philomel! All the other Nightingales had been caught and imprisoned by the neighbouring bird-catchers. I have also lately heard of a man who travels about the country, gaining a livelihood by imitating the song of the Nightingale, Sky Lark (Alauda arvensis), Yellowbill+ (Turdus merula), and other birds! all of which he imitated so successfully that, had he been stationed in the woods, the notes might have been supposed, even by an Ornithologist, to have proceeded from the birds themselves. The organ of imitation was doubtless very fully developed in this person.

Some Ornithologists have supposed that there are two distinct species-and some two varieties of the Nightingale, confounded under one name. The one has been called the Common Nightingale, and the other the Greater Nightingale. Those who are of this opinion say that the latter, besides being larger than the Common, or more properly the Brake Nightingale, "has a much stronger, louder, and deeper voice; but it sings more slowly and more unconnectedly; it has not that astonishing variety, those charming protractions, and harmonious conclusions of the common nightingale; it mutilates all the strains; and, on this account, its song has been compared to the missel thrush, to

*

Unless it be in the first or second number, which I have not as yet been able to procure. † Vulgarly Blackbird.

which, however, it is superior in softness and pureness. The Common Nightingale is superior in delicacy and variety, but inferior in force and brilliancy. The Greater Nightingale sings generally in the night so that it is the real night-singer; while among (brake) Nightingales this is rather uncommon. Its voice is so loud that it is almost impossible to bear it in a room. It is necessary to keep it always outside the window, either by hanging its cage there, or, by opening it a sort of passage into which it can remove." (Bechst. Cage Birds, p. 310.) Such is the account of an eminent Ornithologist, who during a great number of years kept all kinds of cage birds with great success, and from his knowledge in this line, wrote a most useful and interesting volume, which has gone through many editions, and from which the above quotation is taken.

It is possible that two varieties of Nightingales may exist in Britain, but I think it extremely improbable that two species should have been so long overlooked, when we consider the great attention that has always been paid to these birds in consequence of their superior vocal powers. As to the Greater Nightingale being the only night-singer, that is quite erroneous; as the same birds are commonly known to sing both by day and by night, a fact which was remarked even in the days of Pliny. A few words more and I will conclude.

Much as I admire the song of the Brake Nightingale, I certainly cannot agree with Mudie in the latter part of the following passage, taken from his delightful work the "Feathered Tribes of the British Islands," reviewed in the first volume of The Analyst: -"To hear it in the morning, especially for the first time, and to be awakened by it upon one of those balmy mornings in May, when every leaf is freshness, and every breath young perfume, is indescribable-worth more than a whole musical festival; but yet it owes much to the time, and the absence of other sounds."* This clearly proves, not that the song of the Nightingale is "worth more than a whole musical festival," but that the organ of melody is very deficient in Mudie. A person with a very moderate share of harmony but large ideality-which I take to be Mudie's case-may admire the song of the Nightingale, or of any other bird, but will not be able to appreciate more definite and scientific strains.

Luscinia seu Philomela, Will. Orn. (Angl.)-Briss. Orn.Motacilla luscinia, Gm. Linn.-Faun. Suec.-Sylvia luscinia, Lath. Ind. Orn.-Id. Gen. Hist. Temm. Man.-Steph. Gen. Zool.Scop. Ann. Curruca luscinia, Flem. Br. Anim.-Philomela luscinia, Swains.-Nachtigall, Mey. Tasch. Deut. -Frisch, Vög. Rossignol, Buff. Ois.-Becfin Rossignol, Temm. Man.-Nightingale, Will. Orn. (Angl.) -Penn. Br. Zool. -Lath. Syn. Id. Gen. Hist.--Lew. Birds of Brit. - Walc. Syn. -Mont. Orn. Dict. Id. ed. Rennie-Bew. Br. Birds-Don. Br. Birds-Flem. Br. Anim.

* Vol. I. p. 345.

Selby, Illustr. Br. Orn.-Stewart, Nat. Hist. - Syme, Br. Song Birds-Sweet, Br. Warblers-Bechst. Cage Birds (Angl.)-Nightingale Warbler, Steph. Gen. Zool. -Mudie, Feath. Tribes.

Description; Male.-Bill dusky; eyes large, and of a hazel colour; the whole of the upper parts reddish brown, in some individuals inclining to chesnut; tail, tawny red and broad; quills and wing coverts brown, slightly tinged with red, paler at the edges; under parts pale yellowish ash colour; legs long, and light brown: length from tip of the bill to end of the tail six inches and a half.

Female. Does not differ from the male in plumage. Young of the year. Before the first moult they are spotted with yellow, and the breast is more yellow than in adults.

Foston Hall, Derbyshire, June 4, 1835.

NEVILLE WOOD.

SONNETS ON THE SCENERY OF THE MALVERN HILLS.

III.

The Herefordshire Beacon.

This hill is remarkable for being, in its upper part, invested with the lines of an ancient camp, generally supposed to be of British origin, but subsequently strengthened and occupied by the Romans.

The jubilant wind hath here a martial tone,

Here on this height, where once the Roman passed

With all his legions, and the surging blast
Rang with the shout of trump and clarion,

As, like a cloud, the embattled host swept on

From their entrenchments:-lo! through the dimness cast

By old oblivious Time some records last,

And Memory claims the precinct as her own.
For oft, while lingering here, I half forget
The lapse of ages; - History's wizard spell
Peoples the fosse and turf-grown parapet;
Still, still on Fancy's ear the war-notes swell,
And in the breeze's rush, the hawk's shrill cry,
Come the last voices of Antiquity.

IV.

The North Hill, at Twilight.

In such a place as this, at such an hour,
When darkness curtains the theatric show
Of the vain world, our inward light doth glow
Most brightly, and the soul puts forth her power,
And vindicates her most-ennobling dower ;-
She looks into herself, and there descries,
As a calm lake reflects the o'er-arching skies,
Thick-coming thoughts, that sparkle like a shower
Of meteor stars, and from her depths outleap,
Bringing not earthly wishes, worldly cares, -
But fulgent aspirations, Joys as deep
As Heaven is high, ethereal Hope that wears
The hue and fragrance of the morning's breath,
And Faith, whose radiance thrids the gloom of death.

1

E. S.

SKETCHES OF INSECTS, PICTORIAL AND POETICAL.

BY EDWIN LEES, M. E. S.

Honorary Curator of the Worcestershire Natural History Society.

"Shall the poor worm that shocks thy sight,
The humblest form in nature's train,
Thus rise in new-born lustre bright,
And yet the emblem teach in vain ?"

HAVING before descanted on the importance of entomology, whether considered as an amusement or a study, I pass on to consider the economy of insects, and the "transformations" or stages of development exhibited by their different tribes. This will be found no less interesting than their physiology. Entomology, as a science, may have been but little regarded by us, and among the busy world it has few votaries;-those who are striving for the emoluments of life, -those who are panting for the glittering honours upon the steepy precipice of fame-those who are "seeking the bubble reputation in the cannon's mouth," have confessedly but few opportunities for attending to the mechanism of an insect's wing, and no leisure, but in the moment of irritation, to crush the poor sparkler that has unwittingly intruded upon their attention. But we shall be poor logicians, and feeble reasoners in the school of philosophy, if we thence conclude that there is nothing deserving the attention of a rational being in the economy of the insect world.

Dr. Franklin has not unaptly compared our busy world to an ant's nest. If we examine it, there is the same hurry, bustle, and contention and the same selfishness and injustice is displayed, though on a smaller scale. An ant who, after a long excursion, has obtained a maggot, a fly, or a piece of fruit, is robbed of the object of his efforts at the very door of his mansion, and the credit of his labours is assigned to another. Some happy pismire who has carried a long straw for a considerable time, by an unhappy mischance drops it in the crowd, and loses it for ever, while in the contention that ensues, some ignoble, and perhaps lazy insect, who has never wandered a foot from the ant-hill, becomes possessed of the valued rod of office. And yet all this strife, bustle, and perplexity, resolves itself into no apparent useful purpose, -the ant-hill may be made a few inches higher, or a host of unemployed manufacturers may emigrate to find a new field for the exercise of their labour; but nothing at all commensurate with the apparent toil, labour, and excitement, results from the efforts we witness. The moralist, then, may, without compromising his dignity, find a lesson deserving his