282 
THE CHAFFINCH. 
freedom) its song entirely ceases. You may hear 
the thrush, the lark, the robin, and the wren, sing 
from time to time in the dreary months of winter ; 
but you will never, by any chance, have one single 
note of melody from the chaffinch. Its powers of 
song have sunk into a deep and long lasting trance, 
not to be roused by any casualty whatever. All that 
remains of its voice, lately so sweet and so exhilirat- 
ing, is the shrill and well-known monotonous call, 
which becomes remarkably distinct and frequent 
whenever the cat, the owl, the weasel, or the fox, 
are seen to be on the move. 
We are told that in the winter season the female 
chaffinches separate from the males, and migrate 
into distant countries. I have not been able to ascer- 
tain that so ungallant a divorce takes place in this 
part of the country. The chaffinches assemble here 
with their congeners during the period of frost and 
snow, and you may count amongst them as many 
females as males. 
Sad and mournful is the fate which awaits this 
harmless songster in Belgium and in Holland, 
and in other kingdoms of the Continent. In your 
visit to the towns in these countries, you see it 
outside the window, a lonely prisoner in a wooden 
cage, which is scarcely large enough to allow it to 
turn round upon its perch. It no longer enjoys the 
light of day. Its eyes have been seared with a red- 
hot iron, in order to increase its powers of song, 
which, unfortunately for the cause of humanity, are 
supposed to be heightened and prolonged far beyond 
their ordinary duration by this barbarous process* 
