THE WILD. 



able is the brown owl, which, from its hideous 

 yell, has acquired the name of the 'Devil Bird.' 

 The Singhalese regard it literally with horror; 

 and its scream by night, in the vicinity of a vil- 

 lage, is bewailed as the harbinger of approaching 

 calamity." 



After alluding to another sound attributed to a 

 bird, but of which the authorship is involved in 

 uncertainty, he adds: — 



"Mr. Mitford, of the Ceylon Civil Service, to 

 whom I am indebted for many valuable notes 

 relative to the birds of the island, regards the 

 identification of the Singhalese Devil-bird as open 

 to similar doubt: he says, 'The Devil-bird is not 

 an owl. I never heard it until I came to Korne- 

 galle, where it haunts the rocky hill at the back 

 of the Government-house. Its ordinary note is a 

 magnificent clear shout like that of a human 

 being, and which can be heard at a great dis- 

 tance, and has a fine effect in the silence of the 

 closing night. It has another cry, like that of a 

 hen just caught; but the sounds which have 

 earned for it its bad name, and which I have 

 heard but once to perfection, are indescribable, the 

 most appalling that can be imagined, and scarcely 

 to be heard without shuddering; I can only com- 

 pare it to a boy in torture, whose screams are 

 being stopped by being strangled. I have offered 

 rewards for a specimen, but without success."* 



The resemblance of this description to that given 

 by Wilson of the performances of the great horned 

 owl of North America, induces a suspicion that 

 Mr. Mitford may be in error, in so confidently 

 denying the Ceylon bird to be an owl. Wilson 

 says of his formidable species, — "His favourite res- 

 idence is in the dark solitudes of deep swamps, 

 * Tennent's "Ceylon," I. p. 167. 

 219 



