76 Dr. Heineken on Fringilla Canaria, &c. 
land, I have never seen above a dozen either at large or in confinement. 
I have never seen or heard of a female example, and it is universally 
asserted that such never occurs. A friend who keeps and pays a good deal 
of attention to birds, once saw a Capello cock and common hen tending 
the same nest, but as he had no object in doing so at the time, he did 
not take the trouble of ascertaining the contents of the nest, or of pursuing 
the matter further. Two years ago I had a bird of this variety, which I 
have since ascertained was bought by the person from whom I obtained 
it of a country boy, in the nest, along with a common cock: nothing 
was known of the parents, or the rest of the young, if there were any. 
A short time back, hearing that a neighbour had one, I sent for it to look 
at; he being aware that I had no intention of becoming a purchaser, and 
indeed having no desire to dispose of the bird, being also rather too 
knowing in such matters to be easily deceived, may, I think, be thoroughly 
depended upon. He states that last year (1828), a common cock and 
hen Tinto negro built a nest in his garden ; that four young ones were 
hatched, one of which died so young that nothing could be ascertained, 
another proved a common hen, a third acommon cock, and this of the 
Capello variety. Ido not hesitate, therefore, to give it as a variety pe- 
euliar to the male. 
This is the only warbler worth noticing for its song which we have, 
and it amply makes amends for the absence of most of the others. I 
suspect that in this genial climate it is much superior to any of its own 
species in a northerly latitude, and inferior only to the Nightingale; and 
if ‘ the wild sweetness of its note’? used to bring to the placid mind of 
the enviable old naturalist of Selbourne, lines which he has almost im- 
proved by slightly mis-quoting, how often has it not here 
Lad 
spoke 
“ Of a dear quiet home afar,” 
to those whose only home has been the grave. Humboldt mentions in 
his ‘* Personal Narrative,”’ a bird at Teneriffe, called ‘* Capirdte,”’ stat- 
ing that he ‘ had never seen it sufficiently near to know to what family 
‘© it belongs,” and adding (from hearsay, of course) that “ no effort has 
“* been able to tame it,”? and that, ‘ it is unknown in Europe.’ Now, 
from ‘ Capirdte” in Portuguese (although probably a Spanish word 
also) meaning “a hood,” and from the kind of impression which its 
