since our good king abdicated, the poor bird has never opened its sweet lips, and has done nothing but mope and pine."

But to return to what I was saying of the tuition of canaries. The power of articulating words is not common to all of them, or at any rate if they have the power, they do not exercise it. One of the two canaries I have referred to although having the same opportunities, never profited by them in the same manner. He caught, indeed, a few words from the other bird, but he seldom introduced them, never repeating them after his instructor as the other does, or appearing to take some degree of pride and pleasure in so doing. The tempers of the two birds are likewise quite unlike. The talking bird is of an irritable disposition, pecking the fingers of his best friends with furious passion. The other is most gentle. They both know persons they have been used to after long absences, and hail them with the utmost pleasure, while they avoid strangers.

So strong is the imitative power of birds, that a canary who had been taught to pipe, having heard a chaffinch that daily sung in a tree near the window where the cage was hung, learnt his note in a few days, omitting at that time the air he had been accustomed to sing. At the end of the spring, after having been removed from the neighbourhood of the chaffinch, he resumed

the air as before. A nestling nightingale also learnt the notes of a hedge-sparrow that sung near it, for want of other sounds to imitate, and it was extraordinary to hear the gentle, although agreeable warble of the latter attuned to the full compass and power of the nightingale. The effect was most pleasing, although of course not equal to the natural notes of this bird, not one of which he retained. Indeed many birds are almost, if not entirely imitative, and in default of hearing the parent bird, borrow the notes of others; soft-billed birds always prefer the song of softbilled birds, and vice versa.

It is hoped from what has been said on the above subject, that persons who are in the habit of keeping caged birds will be induced to educate them in the manner suggested. Then instead of hearing the shrill, deafening natural notes of the canary, they will be delighted with those of the nightingale, the black-cap and other warblers. "They will then breathe such sweet music out of their little instrumental throats, that it may make mankind think that miracles are not ceased." So said the good Izaac Walton, nor can we forget Mrs. Dorset's very amusing and clever notice of the birds we have been referring to

The bullfinch, a captive almost from the nest,

Just escap'd from his cage, and, with liberty blest,

In a sweet mellow tone join'd the lessons of art,

With the accents of nature which flow'd from his heart.

The canary, a much-admir'd foreign musician,
Condescended to sing to the fowls of condition :

While the nightingale warbled and quaver'd so fine,
That they all clapp'd their wings and pronounced it divine.

It is well known that song birds do not possess their music by intuition, but by imitation. It may be asked whether the various sounds of the galinaceous tribe are imitated also? It is difficult to give an answer. The best judges would be those persons who hatch and rear chickens by steam in London, far from the inhabitants of the farm-yard. As a proof, however, that they are not imitative, the following may perhaps be considered decisive. Eggs brought from a distance of rare species of pheasants and hatched under hens, produce birds with all the native vocabulary, but none of the calls peculiar to domestic fowls, although the birds can never have heard any of their own kind.

I should imagine, also, that the sounds expressive of different feelings and passions among all beasts of the same genus, are always similar and by intuition. A young lion, removed immediately after birth to be brought up under a canine nurse, though it should never see one of its own species, would scarcely bark.

As far as my own observation goes, I am led to believe that all sounds of animals, beasts as well

as birds, are natural and by intuition, except the language of man, and the song of birds. Should the above be the case, strange indeed is the mysterious working of Providence, which thus makes sounds of all others the most harmonious and pleasing alone the effect of imitation! Viewed in this light, the song bird possesses an additional claim to our sympathy-an additional cause to raise it in the scale of created beings, while man receives an additional warning not to think too highly of himself.

MOVEMENTS OF BIRDS.

Theories are more easy and more brilliant than observations; but it is by observation alone that science can be enriched, while a single fact is frequently sufficient to demolish a system.

LE VAILLANT.

We must observe the actions of living animals, and endeavour to trace the cause of those actions.

MONTAGU.

NATURALISTS have not, I think, given sufficient attention to the movements of birds, or to the origin of those we see domesticated around us. I will now offer a few remarks on these two points.

In watching the movements of birds, we shall discover an infinite variety of them. For instance, the jay has a peculiar flight, consisting of curving jerks, closing and then opening its wings very frequently. Other birds have more continuous flights, such as the rook and pigeon. The woodpecker has a very peculiar one, and so has the starling especially when seen in flocks. The rook walks in feeding with much deliberation, but jackdaws invariably hop on both legs. The movements of the wagtail are unlike those of any other birds. Some extend their necks in flying, and