328 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES. 
“The chaffinch raises with all his energy his clear and sonorous 
note; the robin sings from the summit of the larch, the goldfinch 
amid the alder-groves, the blackbird and the bullfinch beneath the 
leafy arbours. The tomtit, the wren, and the troglodyte mingle their 
voices. The stockdove coos, and the woodpecker smites his tree. 
But far above these joyous utterances re-echo the melodious strains of 
the woodlark and the inimitable song of the thrush.” 
Page 185. Migrations.—For the famished Arab, the lank in- 
kabitant of the desert, the arrival of the migrating birds, weary and 
heavy at this season, and, therefore, easy to catch, is a blessing from 
God, a celestial manna. The Bible tells us of the raptures of the 
Israelites, when, during their wanderings in Arabia Petrea, fasting 
and enfeebled, they suddenly saw descending upon them the winged 
food: not the locusts of abstemious Elias, not the bread with which 
the raven nourished his bowels, but the quail heavy with fat, delicious 
and yet substantial, which voluntarily fell into their hands. They 
ate to repletion; and no longer regretted the rich flesh-pots of 
Pharaoh. 
I willingly excuse the gluttony of the famished. But what shall 
I say of our people, in the richest countries of Europe, who, after 
harvest and vintage-time, with barns and cellars brimming full, pursue 
with no less fury these poor travellers? Thin or fat, they are equally 
good: they would eat even the swallows; they devour the song-birds, 
“those which have only a voice.” Their wild frenzy dooms the 
nightingale to the spit, plucks and kills the household guest, the poor 
robin, which yesterday fed from their hands. 
The migration season is a season of slaughter. The law which 
impels southward the tribes of birds is, for millions, a law of death. 
