perhaps had not been hatched but a few weeks) should, at that late season of the year, and from so midland a

age of a very few days, they will sing a portion, if not the whole, of their natural melody. In this respect, the power of observation and imitation in the newborn creature displays itself most marvellously, and gives us reason to attribute many other things to similar causes, which we might otherwise have been induced to refer to instinct. Each bird builds its nest in the same form, and of the same materials as its parent, and for the most part in a similar situation. If the callow nestling is studying and learning the song and call of its parents, from the moment its eyes are open, why should not the more advanced nestling study every particular of the structure in which it is dwelling, and thus learn to build hereafter in the same fashion and position, and with similar materials? I can entertain no doubt that such is the case: and if the eggs were transposed into the nest of some nearly related species, and the produce kept separate from all others of their own kind, they would, doubtless, make their nests like those of the birds which had reared them, and would adopt their notes. I have observed young blackcaps raised from the nest in a large cage, in which the perches were placed very low, as soon as they fed themselves, show a sudden anxiety at roosting time to find a higher perch, and flutter about so intent upon this as to notice nothing else, and at last settle to roost clinging to the wires near the top of the cage. This appeared like a marvellous instinctive impulse; but I apprehend that, while in their native bush, they had noticed the parents every evening, at roosting time, fly upwards to a loftier situation, in which to pass the night. I therefore refer this also to observation.

I had some cock blackcaps and whitethroats, reared from the nest in May and the beginning of June: they were fed upon bread and ground hempseed scalded. The blackcap is naturally a great devourer of fruit, the whitethroat indifferent about it; but, before they were taken, the young blackcaps had been fed by the parents on caterpillars and maggots, and had tasted no fruit, nor could they have had any, for none was ripe; not even strawberries, and those, on account of their acidity, they do not touch. After they were grown up, having one day mixed with their food some of the black currant raisins of the shop, I observed the blackcaps immediately pounce upon them, but the whitethroats either neglected them or took them up and let them drop. In this I think that I discern the immediate agency of an Almighty power, suggesting the food most congenial to this species; for this propensity had not been derived from the habits of the parents. It so happened that the hens of the brood had been placed in a cage at a window of another room, to be fed by the old ones, for some time before they were restored to liberty, for the purpose of observing what food was brought to them; and no fruit was brought to them, nor could any berries have been found in the neighbourhood at that season.

The next propensity that manifests itself in young birds, is the ardent desire of washing themselves, in some species, and of dusting themselves in others; as, for instance, in the common wren. This I conceive must

county, attempt a voyage to Goree or Senegal, almost as far as the equator11?

be an instinctive incitement. It is barely possible that the little wrens might see through the aperture of their covered nest, the parents dusting themselves on the ground in some instances; but their 'nests are often placed where this could not be perceived, and the desire is equally powerful in all individuals. On the other hand, the nestlings of the woodwren and many others, which wash themselves eagerly on the first opportunity that presents itself, after they can feed themselves, could never have seen the like, their nests having been situated under the roots of a tree, upon a dry bank in a wood. This impulse is therefore inspired by the Creator: and it is inspired with a force that, in captivity, is like unto madness. It is very injurious to a nightingale to wash in the winter, and it is fatal to it to do so often: yet the moment a pan of water is put into its cage it rushes into the water and soaks itself, and then stands shivering, the very image of chilliness and despair; yet, will it eagerly repeat the operation, if allowed to do so, every day till it dies. Young whin chats, sedge warblers, wood wrens, yellow wrens, &c. as soon as they can feed themselves, if offered water in a cage, wash with similar avidity, yet, if the temperature be much under seventy, and the sun not shining, it is sure to kill them. In the younger birds it produces, some hours after, or perhaps the next day, a sudden stroke of palsy, by which they drop with a scream, having lost the use of one or both legs, and often with the mouth distorted. In this state the general health does not seem to be affected, but if both legs are paralyzed, they must soon perish. At a little more advanced age, the consequence of a single washing in cool weather is epileptic fits, which are repeated at shorter intervals, till they occasion death. In a state of liberty, the bird would dry itself quickly by rubbing against the leaves, and by very active motion, in the same manner as the wrens, by perpetual activity, resist the severest frost, of which the least attack would kill them in confinement; and, probably, when birds have opportunities of washing always at hand, they choose the most favourable moments. In a cage, it is necessary to give such birds their water in a very narrow-mouthed fountain, to prevent their killing themselves by washing. They will repeat it with equal eagerness, if not prevented, till they die; so strong is the inward impulse. I think the desire of washing belongs most strongly to the birds which migrate to hotter climates in winter; that of dusting to those which remain with us: a substitution wise as all the dispensations of the Creator, for if the little wren in winter were to wash in cold water instead of dusting, it must perish from the chill.

The next impulse that shows itself is the mutation of love into antipathy, not only in the parents, but amongst the young of several species, which impulse is denominated ávricópyn. As soon as the parents of such species as are not gregarious, have completed the education of their brood, they drive them away, while they perhaps give birth to a second

11 See Adanson's Voyage to Senegal.

I acquiesce entirely in your opinion-that, though most of the swallow kind may migrate, yet that some do stay behind and hide with us during the winter.

As to the short-winged soft-billed birds, which come

family. But this is not all: as soon as the young of many species feed themselves, they begin to fight with each other, though perfectly friendly to birds of any other species in the same cage; and if they do quarrel with others, they do so more with those of cognate species. This appears to be a natural impulse given to them in order to effect the dispersion of their kind; it cannot be the effect of imitation.

The next impulse that shows itself in young birds is at the season of passage, and I can say, positively, that the desire of migration at the usual periods, is as strong in those which have never been out of their native country, and have been brought up in a cage, as in the old birds that have made the passage. This uneasiness lasts nearly a month, both in the autumn and spring. I have observed, at these periods, that they usually go to roost quietly, but, upon a light being brought into the room after they have been asleep, the bustle commences, and it is very difficult to get them to settle on the perch again. The anxiety is always accompanied with a looking upwards, and bending the neck quite back, with an aspiring motion of the body, as if the bird wished to soar. At these times, if their perches are near the top of the cage, they bruise their heads against it. It appears from this, as if the rise of the moon were the summons for departure; and the upward flight is probably necessary at starting, to get above all impediments. It has been often observed that woodcocks come over to us on moonlight nights. From these circumstances it is evident that birds do not migrate because their food fails them. If it be said that the diminution or increase of temperature is the channel through which they are warned of the necessity to depart, it does not appear that they are distressed by those changes, for they settle very well again as soon as the days of migration are passed, although the alteration of temperature is daily increasing. Indeed the vernal change, instead of creating a wish to depart, in the chilly species, should rather tend to reconcile them to confinement. It cannot therefore be truly averred that their desire of migration is occasioned by the pressure of any inconvenience.

The result of these observations is, that there are certain impulses given to birds, independent of their early imitative propensities, which seem to proceed directly from the Almighty power that governs the universe. The craniologist may, perhaps, expect to find such impulses modified by the various conformation of their sculls; but if it were admitted that a particular shape of the head might induce a disposition to migrate, what, but the agency of a higher intelligence, could impel the young bird, reared in a cage by the hand of man, with a pan full of food beside a comfortable fire, to travel north or south. The more this subject is investigated, the more clearly, I believe, the direct agency of God will be discovered.-W. H.

F

trooping in such numbers in the spring, I am at a loss even what to suspect about them. I watched them narrowly this year, and saw them abound till about Michaelmas, when they appeared no longer. Subsist they cannot openly among us, and yet elude the eyes of the inquisitive: and, as to their hiding, no man pretends to have found any of them in a torpid state in the winter. But with regard to their migration, what difficulties attend that supposition! that such feeble bad fliers (who the summer long never flit but from hedge to hedge) should be able to traverse vast seas and continents, in order to enjoy milder seasons amidst the regions of Africa 12!

SIR,

LETTER XIII.

TO THE SAME.

SELBORNE, Jan. 22, 1768. As in one of your former letters you expressed the more satisfaction from my correspondence on account of my living in the most southerly county; so now I may return the compliment, and expect to have my curiosity gratified by your living much more to the north.

12 There certainly does exist a difficulty in conceiving how some of the birds of passage, such feeble and bad fliers, should be able to migrate to such a vast distance; but some of our wonder will perhaps diminish, when we read an account of the manner in which the quail crosses the Mediterranean, for the coast of Africa. "Towards the end of September, the quails avail themselves of a northerly wind to take their departure from Europe, and flapping one wing, while they present the other to the gale, half-sail, half-oar, they graze the billows of the Mediterranean with their fattened rumps, and bury themselves in the sands of Africa, that they may serve as food to the famished inhabitants of Zara." St. Pierre's Studies of Nature, vol. i. p. 91.-MITFORD.

Mr. White subsequently arrived at a solution of this difficulty. See his Letter XXXIII. to Pennant; and that to Daines Barrington numbered IX.-W. Y.

For many years past I have observed that towards Christmas vast flocks of chaffinches have appeared in the fields; many more, I used to think, than could be hatched in any one neighbourhood. But, when I came to observe them more narrowly, I was amazed to find that they seemed to me to be almost all hens. I communicated my suspicions to some intelligent neighbours, who, after taking pains about the matter, declared that they also thought them all mostly females; at least fifty to one. This extraordinary occurrence brought to my mind the remark of Linnæus; that "before winter all their hen chaffinches migrate through Holland into Italy." Now I want to know, from some curious person in the north, whether there are any large flocks of these finches with them in the winter, and of which sex they mostly consist? For, from such intelligence, one might be able to judge whether our female flocks migrate from the other end of the island, or whether they come over to us from the continent1.

We have, in the winter, vast flocks of the common linnets; more, I think, than can be bred in any one district. These, I observe, when the spring advances, assemble on some tree in the sunshine, and join all in a gentle sort of chirping, as if they were about to break up their winter quarters, and betake themselves to their proper summer homes. It is well known, at least, that

'Concerning the congregation of cock chaffinches in the winter season, it may be observed that such is not an invariable habit. A pair of chaffinches have frequented my window for food during three winters without interruption, and have grown so tame as to take it while I stand almost touching them. Having no difficulty in procuring sustenance, they continue as paired birds during the whole winter, and in last June and July they used to carry the food away for their young. A pair of robins and hedgewarblers do the same, always making their nest at a very small distance; and the hedgewarbler even brings its young to the window to feed them there.-W. H.

* Linnets flock in September, and continue to congregrate till March. At this season they are termed branchers, and assemble in vast numbers: but they are broken up towards winter into smaller flocks, in which the sexes are separate. In March they again assemble, when they are