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LINCOLN'S PINE WOOD-FINCH. 



4- Peucea Lincolnii, Jlud. 

 PLATE CLXXVII.— Male and Female. 



We had been in Labrador nearly three weeks before this Finch was dis- 

 covered. One morning while the sun was doing his best to enliven the 

 gloomy aspect of the country, I chanced to enter one of those singular small 

 valleys here and there to be seen. The beautiful verdure of the vegetation, 

 the numerous flowers that grew sprinkled over the ground, the half-smother- 

 ed pipings of some frogs, and the multitudes of mosquitoes and flies of 

 various sorts, seemed to belong to a region very different from any that I 

 had previously explored. But if the view of this favoured spot was pleasing 

 to my eye, how much more to my ear were the sweet notes of this bird as 

 they came thrilling on the sense, surpassing in vigour those of any American 

 Finch with which I am acquainted, and forming a song which seemed a 

 compound of those of the Canary and Wood-lark of Europe. I immediately 

 shouted to my companions, who were not far distant. They came, and we 

 all followed the songster as it flitted from one bush to another to evade our 

 pursuit. No sooner would it alight than it renewed its song; but we found 

 more wildness in this species than in any other inhabiting the same country, 

 and it was with difficulty that we at last procured it. Chance placed my 

 young companion, Thomas Lincoln, in a situation where he saw it alight 

 within shot, and with his usual unerring aim, he cut short its career. On 

 seizing it, I found it to be a species which I had not previously seen; and, 

 supposing it to be new, I named it Tom's Finch, in honour of our friend 

 Lincoln, who was a great favourite among us. Three cheers were given 

 him, when, proud of the prize, I returned to the vessel to draw it, while my 

 son and his companions continued to search for other specimens. Many 

 were procured during our stay in that country. They became more abun- 

 dant and less shy the farther north we proceeded, but no longer sang, in 

 consequence of the advance of the season. We did not, however, succeed 

 in finding a nest. 



The habits of this sweet songster resemble those of the Song Sparrow. 

 Like it, mounted on the topmost twig of the tallest shrub or tree it can find, 

 it chants for hours; or, diving into the thickets, it hops from branch to 

 branch, until it reaches the ground, in search of those insects and berries 



