282 THE CHAFFINCH. 



freedom) its song entirely ceases. You may hear 

 the thrush, the lark, the robin, and the wren, sing 

 from time to time in the dreary months of winter ; 

 but you will never, by any chance, have one single 

 note of melody from the chaffinch. Its powers of 

 song have sunk into a deep and long lasting trance, 

 not to be roused by any casualty whatever. All that 

 remains of its voice, lately so sweet and so exhilirat- 

 ing, is the shrill and well-known monotonous call, 

 which becomes remarkably distinct and frequent 

 whenever the cat, the owl, the weasel, or the fox, 

 are seen to be on the move. 



We are told that in the winter season the female 

 chaffinches separate from the males, and migrate 

 into distant countries. I have not been able to ascer- 

 tain that so ungallant a divorce takes place in this 

 part of the country. The chaffinches assemble here 

 with their congeners during the period of frost and 

 snow, and you may count amongst them as many 

 females as males. 



Sad and mournful is the fate which awaits this 

 harmless songster in Belgium and in Holland, 

 and in other kingdoms of the Continent. In your 

 visit to the towns in these countries, you see it 

 outside the window, a lonely prisoner in a wooden 

 cage, which is scarcely large enough to allow it to 

 turn round upon its perch. It no longer enjoys the 

 light of day. Its eyes have been seared with a red- 

 hot iron, in order to increase its powers of song, 

 which, unfortunately for the cause of humanity, are 

 supposed to be heightened and prolonged far beyond 

 their ordinary duration by this barbarous process. 



