Dr. Jenner on the Migration of Birds. 97 



notes, the native scenes. How sweetly, at the return of 

 spring, do the notes of the cuckoo first burst upon the ear ; 

 and what apathy must that soul possess, that does not feel a 

 soft emotion at the song of the nightingale (surely it must be 

 " fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils") ! and how wisely is 

 it contrived that a general stillness should prevail while this 

 heavenly bird is pouring forth its plaintive and melodious 

 strains, — strains that so sweetly accord with the evening hour ! 

 — Some of our foreign visitors, it may be said, are inharmo- 

 nious minstrels, and rather disturb than aid the general con- 

 cert. In the midst of a soft warm summer's day, when the 

 martin is gently floating on the air, not only pleasing us with 

 the peculiar delicacy of its note, but with the elegance of its 

 meandering; when the blackcap is vying with the goldfinch, 

 and the linnet with the woodlark, a dozen swifts rush from 

 some neighbouring battlement, and set up a most discordant 

 screaming. Yet all is perfect. The interruption is of short 

 duration, and without it, the long continued warbling of the 

 softer singing birds would pall and tire the listening ear with 

 excess of melody, as the exhilarating beams of the sun, were 

 they not at intervals intercepted by clouds, would rob the heart 

 of the gaiety they for a while inspire, and sink it into languor. 

 There is a perfect consistency in the order in which nature 

 seems to have directed the singing birds to fill up the day 

 with their pleasing harmony. To an observer of those divine 

 laws which harmonize the general order of things, there ap- 

 pears a design in the arrangement of this sylvan minstrelsy. 

 It is not in the haunted meadow or frequented field we are 

 to expect the gratification of indulging ourselves in this pleas- 

 ing speculation to its full extent; we must seek for it in the 

 park, the forest, or some sequestered dell, half inclosed by the 

 coppice or the wood. 



First the robin, and not the lark, as has been generally 

 imagined, as soon as twilight has drawn the imperceptible line 

 between night and day, begins his lonely song. How sweetly 

 does this harmonize with the soft dawning of day ! He goes 

 on till the twinkling sunbeams begin to tell him his notes no 

 longer accord with the rising scene. Up starts the lark, and 

 with him a variety of sprightly songsters, whose lively notes 

 are in perfect correspondence with the gaiety of the morning. 

 The general warbling continues, with now and then an inter- 

 ruption, for reasons before assigned, by the transient croak of 

 the raven, the screaming of the jay and the swift, or the pert 

 chattering of the daw. The nightingale, unwearied by the 

 vocal exertions of the night, withdraws not proudly by day 

 from his inferiors in song, but joins them in the general har- 



Vol. G4-. No. 31G. Aug. 1824. N mony. 



