202 
NATURAL HISTORY 
commonly creeps about hedges or trees, in the vicinity of 
farm-yards, and sings very late in the evening, though 
not, like the nightingale, after the landscape is enveloped 
with darkness*— The female constructs a very curious 
nest, and lays from ten to fifteen eggs, which are very 
small, white and sprinkled with red spots. 
Redbreast. (PI. 32.) The red breast is less celebra- 
ted for its music than its attachment to mankind; its bill 
is slender and delicate; its eyes are large, dark, and ex- 
pressive, and its aspect mild; its head and all the upper 
parts of its body are brown, tinged with a greenish olive; 
the neck and breast are of a fine deep reddish orange; a 
spot of the same colour marks its forehead: its belly is 
whitish, and the legs and feet of a dusky black. It is 
near six inches in length from the tip of the bill to the 
end of the tail, the former being about half an inch, and 
the latter two inches and a half. 
This bird, in England, is reckoned to have the sweet- 
est song of all others: the notes of other birds indeed, are 
louder, and their inflections more capricious; but the red- 
breast’s voice is soft, tender, and well supported; and the 
more to be valued as we enjoy it the greatest part of the 
winter. 
During the spring, this celebrated bird haunts the 
wood, the grove, and the garden, and retires to the thick- 
est and shadiest hedge-rows to breed in: and in winter 
it endeavours to support itself, by chirping round the 
warm habitations of mankind, and by coming into those 
shelters where the rigour of the season is artificially ex- 
pelled, and where insects are found in the greatest num- 
bers, attracted by the same cause.— The female lays four 
to five eggs, of a dull white colour, diversified with red- 
dish streaks. 
Lark. ( Alauda . Lath. PL 32.) All the birds of the 
name, including the sky-lark, the wood-lark, and the 
tit-lark, are distinguished from other small volatiles by 
the length of their heels; they are also louder in their 
song, hut not so pleasing. Indeed the music of every 
bird in captivity is but the mirth of a little animal insen- 
sible of its unfortunate situation: it is the scenery of the 
