344 THE WREN, THE HEDGE SPARROW, AND THE ROBIN. 



of either of them. The whole narrative is confused, and wants ex- 

 planation. 



The last of this sweetly warbling trio, whose habits I am attempt- 

 ing to describe, is pretty cock robin, the delight of our childhood, and 

 an object of protection in our riper years. Wherever there is plenty 

 of shelter for him, his song may be heard throughout the entire year, 

 even in the midst of frost and snow. In the whole catalogue of 

 British birds, cock robin is the only one which, in his wild state, can 

 be really considered familiar with man. Others are rendered tame 

 by famine and cold weather, and will cautiously approach the spot 

 where food is thrown for them; but the robin will actually alight 

 upon your table, and pick up crumbs on your own plate. When I 

 have been digging in the pleasure-ground, he has come and sat upon 

 my spade ; and by every gesture proved his confidence. You cannot 

 halt for any moderate time in the wood, but cock robin is sure to 

 approach, and cheer you with an inward note or two ; and on such 

 occasions he has more than once alighted on my foot. This famili- 

 arity is inherent in him, and not acquired. I am not acquainted 

 with any other wild bird that possesses it. In Italy this social dis- 

 position of his does not guarantee him from destruction by the hand 

 of man. At the bird market near the Rotunda in Rome, I have 

 counted more than fifty robin redbreasts lying dead on one stall. 

 " Is it possible," said I to the vendor, " that you can kill and eat 

 these pretty songsters ? " " Yes," said he, with a grin ; " and if you 

 will take a dozen of them home for your dinner to-day, you will 

 come back for two dozen to-morrow." It is the innocent familiarity 

 of this sweet warbler which causes it to be such a favourite with all 

 ranks of people in England. Nobody ever thinks of doing it an 

 injury. "That's poor cock robin ! don't hurt poor cock robin," 

 says the nursery maid, when her infant charge would wish to capture 

 it. Mrs Barbauld has introduced cock robin into her plaintive story 

 of " Pity ;" and when we study the habits of this bird, and see that his 

 intimacy with us far surpasses that of any other known wild one, we 

 no longer wonder that the author of that pathetic ballad, "The Chil- 

 dren in the Wood," should have singled out the redbreast amongst all 

 the feathered tribe to do them the last sad act of kindness. They 

 had been barbarously left to perish, and had died of cold and want 



