THE GOLDFINCH. 241 



which this is the most common. It well deserves the spe- 

 cific designation Elegans, being truly elegant, perhaps the 

 most so of any of our native birds. Its beautifully varie- 

 gated dress of nicely shaded buff and brown, that melts 

 away into white on the under parts, and is edged with 

 glossy black, and ornamented at places with gold and 

 crimson, must be familiar to all of our readers. Its well- 

 proportioned form, with the wings and tail neither too long 

 nor too short, its lively motions, its gentle engaging man- 

 ners and agreeable song, render it a general favourite. 

 One only regrets that the beauty and loveable qualities of 

 the bird should lead to its frequent imprisonment, in which 

 state, however, we must confess, it appears very happy. 

 Still we would say with Hunter, 



I love to see the little Goldfinch pluck 



The groundsel's feathered seed, and twit, and twit; 



And then, in bower of apple-blossom perched, 



Trim his gay suit, and pay us with a song. 



I would not hold him prisoner for the world ! 



Many are the amusing stories we could tell of Master 

 Goldie's cleverness, and docility, and affection ; but our 

 object in this book has been rather to depict the natural 

 habits and manners of birds, than to speak of their vocal 

 and other acquirements in a state of captivity. Therefore 

 do we take our readers out into the woods and fields, to 

 watch this gay Finch following out the promptings of its 

 instinct, and doing its appointed work in the great scheme 

 of creation. Under the guidance of Macgillivray, 



Let us stroll abroad on this fine autumnal day, when the sun 

 shines brightly on the yellow fields, and the thistle-down floats 

 along on the gentle breeze, gliding like snow-flakes over the river. 

 There, on that old pasture, is the source of the plumy eruption 

 a forest of tall weeds, which the husbandman ought to have pulled 

 up and burnt before they had time to perfect their seeds. See what 

 tufts of down are scattered about by those little birds, that seem bent 

 on demolishing all the heads, anthodia or capitola, as the botanists 

 term them. How curiously they hang on the prickly stems and 

 leaves, with what adroitness do they thrust their bills into the heart 

 of the involucres, and how little do they regard us, as they ply their 

 pleasant pursuit, unconscious of danger, and piping their merry call- 

 notes ! Now some of them have perceived us ; they fly off, chuckling, 



Q 



