THE NIGHTINGALE. 543 



All these are of small size, and have the singular property 

 of imparting a vibratory motion to their tails. They are chiefly 

 denizens of our woods, thickets, and gardens, where they fill 

 the air with their melody. They are generally migratory, 

 arriving in the spring, and departing at the fall of the leaf. 

 Living, except in autumn, almost exclusively on insects and 

 their larvae, they render in this respect eminent services to 

 man; but it is a curious fact that at that period these birds 

 cease to be insectivorous, and feed on fruits among others, figs 

 and grapes, whence the name of Bec-figues applied to them 

 in the South of France. There they are most eagerly sought 

 for, the attraction being their flesh, which is considered most 

 delicate. 



Warblers prefer the woods and sloping hill-sides, or the banks 

 of rivers, clothed with trees and shrubs, for their residence. 



In the first rank of the Warblers stands the NIGHTINGALE 

 (Philomela luscinia, Selby), Fig. 246, celebrated all over the world 

 for its song, which is superior, without any doubt, to that of all 

 other birds. In size it is somewhat greater than the Garden 

 Warbler, which it resembles in its homely attire. Many have been 

 the attempts made to describe this far-famed bird. Naturally 

 shy, the Nightingale retires into the freshest and most sheltered 

 places, rarely exposing itself to observation. Brushwood and 

 thickets, witch-elms and evergreen trees, growing on the banks 

 of some retired water-course, are its favourite dwelling. It is 

 among these that it establishes its nest, built without care, at 

 irregular height, and sometimes even on the ground. It possesses 

 this peculiarity that it sings not only during the day, but also 

 in the night ; but let any alarming noise approach its retreat, 

 and it stops instantly. It seems to love solitude above all things. 

 Audubon, the American naturalist, has described some of the dis- 

 tinctive characteristics of the bird with a few graphic touches. 

 He has left his downy couch, and sallied forth to watch the 

 eventful moment when nature arises, fresh, blooming, and full of 

 renovated vigour. In his wanderings he comes upon a Nightingale. 

 " In the midst of a thicket," he says, " I now see a solitary bird, 

 humble in its attire, and of most modest mien, peeping at me with 

 a caution so uncommon, and yet so inviting, that I feel tempted to 



