the British Sung Bird. 83 



tition of the attacks, we left them for a few days, to accustom 

 them to the cage, and we then let them out as quietly as possible. 

 While watching them after their liberation, we found, to our 

 great dismay, that only two out of the four could fly, and that 

 the others ran along the ground in so helpless a condition as to 

 render themselves very liable to injury from an enemy of any 

 kind. With some little difficulty we caught these two again, 

 and found their wings in so ragged a state from their restless 

 habits in their small cages, that it was no wonder that flying 

 was out of the question. We got then wings pulled, and I took 

 charge of them till such time as the feathers had grown again. 

 But one of them was either ill, or had got injured hi being 

 recaught, and died the next clay ; and the other, after having 

 lived apparently healthy, but in a curiously ragged condition, for 

 several months, seemed to find one of our frosty nights too cold 

 for it, and, although eating heartily the clay before and sheltered 

 in a tolerably warm room, it was found dead in the morning. 

 The two which were left in the gardens were seen once or twice, 

 and upon several occasions passers on the river informed Mr. 

 Brown that they had been heard to sing. Tor some time no 

 news was received of them. The nightingale is, however, a very 

 shy bird. It lurks in the most leafy recesses of the thicket, and 

 scores of them might hide themselves in so suitable a place for 

 their reception as is furnished by some portion of the Botanical 

 Gardens, without giving any note of their whereabouts. A 

 short time ago, however, I was delighted to hear that one of 

 them had been both seen and heard singing, by Mr. Wilhemie, a 

 German gentleman engaged at the Botanical Gardens. I called 

 upon Mr. Wilhehne, and he showed me the precise tree near his 

 cottage where it was perched. It appeared very healthy, sang 

 cheerfully, and was undoubtedly a nightingale. Of this Mr. Wil- 

 hehne had no doubt whatever. He is a gentleman of education 

 and respectability ; has lived hi parts of Germany in which the 

 nightingale is quite common, and speaks quite confidently of the 

 fact. Next to the pleasure with which I heard that one at least 

 of the birds was doing well in the spot in which it was turned 

 loose several months ago, was the surprise occasioned by the 

 fact that it had allowed so large a portion of our winter to pass 

 away, without showing any disposition to obey its natural instinct 

 of migration. 



An experiment on this small scale was scarcely likely to be 

 very successful. Nature is profuse in her supply, and if we 

 imitate or supplement nature we must be tolerably liberal too. 

 At the same time, if we went systematically to work, and did 



