130 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 



vivacity and power, and ours more melody and plain* 

 tiveness. In the song of the skylark, for instance, 

 there is little or no melody, but wonderful strength 

 and copiousness. It is a harsh strain near at hand, 

 but very taking when showered down from a height 

 of several hundred feet. 



Daines Barrington, the naturalist of the last cen- 

 tury, to whom White of Selborne addressed so many 

 of his letters, gives a table of the comparative merit 

 of seventeen leading song-birds of Europe, marking 

 them under the heads of mellowness, sprightliness, 

 plaintiveness, compass and execution. In the aggre- 

 gate, the songsters stand highest in sprightliness, 

 next in compass and execution, and lowest in the 

 other two qualities. A similar arrangement and 

 comparison of our songsters, I think, would show an 

 opposite result, — that is, a predominance of melody 

 and plaintiveness. The British wren, for instance, 

 stands in Barrington's table as destitute of both 

 these qualities; the reed sparrow also. Our wren- 

 songs, on the contrary, are gushing and lyrical, and 

 more or less melodious, — that of the winter wren 

 being preeminently so. Our sparrows, too, all have 

 sweet, plaintive ditties, with but little sprightliness 

 or compass. The English house sparrow has no song 

 at all, but a harsh chatter that is unmatched among 

 our birds. But what a hardy, prolific, pugnacious 

 little wretch it is! They will maintain themselves 

 where our birds will not live at all, and a pair of 

 them will lie down in the gutter and fight like dogs. 

 Compared with this miniature John Bull, the voice 



