134 FRESH FIELDS 



part in the choir. The song is as loud as that of 

 our orchard starling, and is even more animated. 

 It begins with a rapid, wren-like trill, which 

 quickly becomes a sharp jingle, then slides into a 

 warble, and ends with an abrupt flourish. I have 

 never heard a song that began so liltingly end with 

 such a quick, abrupt emphasis. The last note often 

 sounds like "whittier," uttered with great sharp- 

 ness; but one that used to sing in an apple-tree 

 over my head, day after day there by the Boon, 

 finished its strain each time with the sharp ejacula- 

 tion, "Sister, right here." Afterwards, whenever 

 I met a shilfa, I could hear in its concluding note 

 this pointed and almost impatient exclamation of 

 "Sister, right here." The song, on the whole, is 

 a pleasing one, and very characteristic; so rapid, 

 incessant, and loud. The bird seemed to be held 

 in much less esteem in Britain than on the Conti- 

 nent, where it is much sought after as a caged bird. 

 In Germany, in the forest of Thuringia, the bird is 

 in such quest that scarcely can one be heard. A 

 common workman has been known to give his cow 

 for a favorite songster. The chaffinch has far less 

 melody and charm of song than some of our finches, 

 notably our purple finch; but it is so abundant and 

 so persistent in song that in quantity of music it 

 far excels any singer we have. 



Next to the chaffinch in the volume of its song, 

 and perhaps in some localities surpassing it, is the 

 song-thrush. I did not find this bird upon the 

 Doon, and but rarely in other places in Scotland, 



