504 FLOWER-GARDENS AND SONG-BIRDS. 



the dell, and insures me the return of warmer weather ! The chaf- 

 finch too, and the whitethroat, and the thrush, and the blackbird, 

 with pretty jenny-wren, and the hedge-sparrow, all add charms inex- 

 pressible, by their sweet voices, to the rising flowers of the dale. And 

 this brings me to another bird, not seen now in this country, but in- 

 teresting to us on account of the place which it occupies in Holy 

 Writ. Its history is but little known to the world at large, and its 

 identity is exposed to be called in question, on account of the name 

 which it erroneously bears. The bird to which I allude is the 

 Passer solitarius ; in English, the solitary sparrow ; and in Italian, 

 passera solitaria. Would my readers lend a patient ear for a short 

 time, they shall have both the history and the true name of this bird 

 placed in a proper light. 



The royal Psalmist, whilst bending down in penitential prayer 

 before his offended Maker, exclaims, " Vigilavi, et factus sum sicut 

 passer solitarius in tecto" "I have watched, and am become as a 

 sparrow all alone upon the house-top." I have often wondered 

 what bird this could be, knowing, by daily experience, that it could 

 not actually be the house-sparrow, for the house-sparrow is not soli- 

 tary in its habits. I despaired of being able to trace its character 

 satisfactorily, and I should probably have long remained in ignorance 

 of it had I not visited the southern parts of Europe. My arrival in 

 Rome let me at once into the secret. The bird to which the re- 

 pentant king of Israel compared himself in the seven penitential 

 Psalms is a real thrush in size, in shape, in habits, and in song ; 

 with this difference from the rest of the tribe, that it is remarkable 

 throughout all the East for sitting solitary on the habitations of man. 

 The first time I ever saw this lonely plaintive songster was in going 

 to hear mass in the magnificent church of the Jesuits at Rome. The 

 dawn was just appearing, and the bird passed over my head in its 

 transit from the roof the Palace Odescalchi to the belfry of the 

 Church of the Twelve Apostles, singing as it flew. I thought it had 

 been the Italian blackbird, with notes somewhat different from those 

 of our own ; for its song was partly that of the blackbird and partly 

 that of the stormcock, but not so loud as the last, nor so varied as 

 the first. I found out my mistake in due time ; and on seeing that 

 the bird was the true solitary thrush, I paid particular attention to 



