84 NIGHTINGALE. 



The late Bishop Stanley relates the following account of 

 one which was reared from the nest in the spring of 1835: 

 'It soon became tame, and was kept in a cage till May, 

 1837, singing always in the winter from Christmas till April, 

 and shewing no symptoms of impatience at the usual period 

 of migration; it was silent the rest of the year. Last May 

 it was permitted to go out of its cage, which was hung up, 

 open, at the door of the offices. At first it returned regularly 

 in the evening to its cage, and was taken in, and released 

 again the next morning. As the season advanced, it some- 

 times stayed out all night in the shrubberies and pleasure- 

 grounds, but if called by any of the servants, whose voice 

 it knew, would return and feed out of their hand. For a 

 a day or two, towards the close of summer, it seemed rather 

 uneasy, but this soon wore off. As the evenings got cool, 

 in the autumn, it returned to its cage before nightfall, and 

 was taken as usual into the house; as the season still further 

 advanced, it was to be permanently housed, and was expected 

 to sing again at Christmas.' 



He also mentions a remarkable instance of their removing 

 their eggs, under peculiar circumstances, as communicated to 

 the French Academy of Sciences by M. Merveaux. A pair 

 of these birds had built their nest in his garden in the 

 lower part of a hedge, containing four eggs, when some 

 water in the neighbourhood rose with such impetuosity as to 

 inundate the garden. He watched them with some anxiety, 

 and one day when the water had reached to within six 

 paces of the nest, he only perceived two eggs. He at first 

 thought that the nest had been abandoned; but coming to 

 it very soon after, he only saw one, and this time he waited 

 to see the result, and was much astonished to see the last 

 egg disappear with the birds, who, flying cautiously, but 

 rapidly, carried it to a new nest, at the highest part of the 

 hedge, where he saw all the four eggs deposited in safety, 

 and where they were afterwards hatched. 



Its flight is swift, light, smooth, and even, though not 

 extended far. On the ground it stands very erect. When 

 alighting on a branch the wings are slightly shaken or 

 quivered. 



It takes its prey just in the same way that the Thrush 

 does, flying to the ground, hopping quickly along in search 

 of any, then suddenly seizing it, and after a sidelong glance 

 returning to its post, often the very spot from which it had 



