hemisphere. Like them, the wren, the hedge- 

 sparrow, and the robin, are insectivorous, and 

 they differ not in the texture of their plumage; 

 still, they do not accompany their departing' con- 

 geners, but prefer to remain in this cold and 

 stormy quarter of the world, throughout the 

 whole of the year. They may certainly suffer 

 more or less, during the chilling period of frost 

 and snow; nevertheless, their breed is always 

 kept up; and we find, on the return of spring, 

 that they have not suffered more than others 

 which are apparently better suited to brave the 

 rigor of an English winter than they are. 



There is yet another point which wants set- 

 tling in the habits of these birds. I allude to 

 their song. When we are informed that incuba- 

 tion is the main inducement to melody in the feathered 

 tribe, we have only to step out after sunrise into 

 the surrounding evergreens, and there we are 

 sure to hear either the wren, the hedge-sparrow, 

 or the robin, in fine song, although not a single 

 twig has been laid, or a piece of moss produced 

 in furtherance of a nest, wherein to raise their 

 future young! Certainly, in this case, neither 

 love nor warmth could have had any hand in 

 tuning the winter lyre of these little sons of 

 Orpheus ! 



The wren is at once distinguished in appearance 

 from our smaller British songsters by the erect 

 position of its tail. Its restlessness, too, renders 

 it particularly conspicuous ; for, when we look at 

 it, we find it so perpetually on the move, that I 

 cannot recollect to have observed this diminutive 

 rover at rest on a branch for three minutes in 

 continuation. Its habits are solitary to the fullest 

 extent of the word; and it seems to bear hard 

 weather better than either the hedge-sparrow or 

 the robin ; for whilst these two birds approach 

 our habitations in quest of food and shelter, Avith 

 their plumage raised as indicative of cold, the 

 wren may be seen in ordinary pursuit, amid ici- 

 cles which hang from the bare roots of shrubs 

 and trees, on the banks of the neighboring rivu- 

 lets ; and amongst these roots, it is particularly 

 fond of building its oval nest. 



The ancients called the wren, Troglodytes * but 

 it is now honored with the high-sounding name 

 of Anorthura; alleging for a reason, that the 

 ancients were quite mistaken in their supposition 

 that this bird was an inhabitant of caves, as it is 

 never to be seen within them. Methinks that 

 the ancients were quite right, and that our mo- 

 dern masters in ornithology are quite wrong. If 

 we only for a moment reflect, that the nest of the 

 wren is spherical, and is of itself, as it were, a 

 little cave, we can easily imagine that the an- 

 cients, on seeing the bird going in and out of this 

 artificial cave, considered the word Troglodytes 

 an appropriate appellation. 



The habits of the hedge-sparrow are not 

 quite so solitary as those of the wren. It will 

 approach the window in cold weather, and there 

 pick up a scanty meal with the robin, the chaf- 

 finch, and the house-sparrow. Still, we very 

 rarely see three hedge-sparrows in company. 

 As these birds inhabit low shrubs and the bottoms 

 of hawthorn fences, and are ever on the stir amid 

 old pieces of wood and lumber, put apart for the 

 use of the farm-yard, we cannot be surprised that 

 they, as well as the robin and the wren, which 



are fond of such localities, should fall an easy 

 prey to the cat, the weasel, the foumart, and 

 Hanoverian rat, which last all the world knows 

 to be uncommonly ravenous. To these plun- 

 derers, we may possibly attribute the cause why, 

 from year to year, there is no apparent increase 

 in the number of these lowly winter-songsters, 

 be the protection afforded them never so great. 



The last of this sweetly warbling trio, whose 

 habits I am attempting to describe, is pretty 

 cock-robin — the delight of our childhood, and 

 an object of protection in our riper years. 

 Wherever there is plenty of shelter for him, his 

 song may be heard throughout the entire year, 

 even in the midst of frost and snow. In the 

 whole catalogue of British birds, cock-robin is 

 the only one, which in his wild state can be 

 really considered familiar with man. Others are 

 rendered tame by famine and cold weather, and 

 will cautiously approach the spot where food is 

 thrown for them; but the robin will actually 

 alight upon our table, and pick up crumbs on 

 your own plate. When I have been digging in 

 the pleasure-ground, he has come and sat upon 

 my spade ; and by every gesture proved his con- 

 fidence. You cannot halt for any moderate time 

 in the wood, but cock-robin is sure to approach, 

 and cheer you with an inward note or two; and 

 on such occasions he has more than once alighted 

 on my foot. This familiarity is inherent in him, 

 and not acquired. I am not acquainted with any 

 other wild bird that possesses it. 



Iu Italy, this social disposition of his does not 

 guarantee him from destruction by the hand of 

 man. At the bird-market near the Rotunda in 

 Home, I have counted more than fifty robin- 

 redbreasts lying dead on one stall. " Is it pos- 

 sible," said I to the vendor, " that you can kill 

 and eat these pretty songsters?" "Yes," said 

 he with a grin, "and if you loill take a dozen of 

 them home for your dinner to-day, you will come back 

 for two dozen to-morrow '." 



It is the innocent familiarity of this sweet 

 warbler which causes it to be such a favorite 

 with all ranks of people in England. Nobody 

 ever thinks of doing it an injury. " That's poor 

 cock robin! — don't hurt poor cock-robin! " says 

 the nursery maid, when her infant charge would 

 wish to capture it. Mrs. Barbauld has introduced 

 cock-robin into her plaintive story of Pity ; and 

 when we study the habits of this bird, and see 

 that his intimacy with us far surpasses that of 

 any other known wild one, we no longer wonder 

 that the author of that pathetic ballad, The 

 Children in the Wood, should have singled out 

 the red-breast amongst all the feathered tribe, 

 to do them the last sad act of kindness. They 

 had been barbarously left to perish, and had died 

 of cold and want. Cock-robin found them ; and 

 he is described as bringing leaves in his mouth, 

 and covering their dead bodies with them. 



" Their pretty lips with black-berries 

 Were all besmeared and dyed ; 

 And when they saw the darksome night, 

 They laid them down and cried. 



No burial these pretty babes 

 Of any man receives 

 Till robin-redbreast, painfully, 

 Did cover them with leaves." 



This ballad has something in it peculiarly cal- 



