their young. So amongst the chorus of sweet singers who make melody when leaves are green it is not very common to hear the voice of the robin, though he is said to sing very constantly by the side of his mate, whilst she sits upon her eggs or broods over her young ones. But in autumn, Robin comes nearer the abode of man, and it is difficult then in country places to skirt a field or wander in a lane, without seeing a brisk little bird with ruby breast perched upon the hedgerow, pouring forth a sweet and gentle song. This is the robin, and we love his notes all the more at a time when few other birds still sing. Nay, even in the winter when, the Nightingale and many other warblers have left our shores to spend the chilly months in some warmer climate, the robin only draws nearer to our homes, makes his abode in our gardens, pecks up the crumbs at our very doors, nay, often finds his way into our houses, and rewards every kindness shewn to him with the same sweet flood of song that he poured forth amidst the woods in the days of summer. Many very pretty stories are told of different robins who have been tamed by kindness until they seemed to lose almost all that fear of man which is generally so striking in birds.

I have heard of one who came to live almost entirely in the chamber of a sick gentleman, and grew very fond of ground rice pudding, which was a favourite invalid dish. But the out-door feeding of robins is not so dainty in general, and I am sorry to tell you that, by those who have taken pains to watch robins, and study their wild habits, these birds are found not only to prey on live worms, which is natural enough, but also to spend much time and trouble to prepare the poor things for food, in a way that must be any thing but agreeable to the victims. For the robin does not eat the whole worm, only the outer skin, and, to get rid of the inner part, Mr. Robin takes the worm in his bill and dashes it about on a stone with great skill until he has effected his purpose. He is also a very pugnacious bird; that is he is very fond of fighting, I am sorry to tell you, but such is really the case. He will not allow other robins to build in the same bush with him. He never joins himself in friendly company with his fellows, and on occasion he can fight very heartily: so heartily that a lady who writes much that is delightful, of birds, and amongst them of robins, tells the following story. She was once sitting with a family party, when a cat rushed in with two robins in her mouth, which she had pounced upon in the garden whilst they were engaged in such a desperate battle that they did not see their enemy at hand. One head stuck out at each side of puss's mouth, but of course she was instantly seized and forced to let go her prey, when both robins flew away as if not much hurt. But for all this Robin Redbreast is a very charming little fellow, and well deserves a warm place in your regard.

Some years ago a pair of robins took up their abode in the parish church of Hampton, in Warwickshire, and affixed their nest to the church Bible as it lay on the reading desk. The vicar would not allow the birds to be disturbed, and, therefore, provided another Bible. Another instance is related where a clerk, in Wiltshire, found a robin's nest, containing two eggs, under the Bible on the reading desk. The bird was not disturbed, and laid four more, which were hatched in due season. The cock-bird actually brought food in its bill and fed the young brood during Divine service.

THE BULLFINCH.

THE BULLFINCH.

Look at the bright colours of this beautiful little bird: you can scarcely find one with prettier plumage or a sweeter note. His native song is not very remarkable, but he is so docile, and so readily taught to whistle different airs, that he is highly valued. Bullfinches are common enough in our woods and gardens, but gardeners are sad enemies to these little birds, declaring that they spoil trees by picking off their buds. It is, however, now thought by intelligent persons that the only buds destroyed by the bullfinch are those infested with insects, so that he really confers a benefit on us instead of doing mischief. Almost all the piping bullfinches as they are called, kept in cages in this country, are brought from Germany, where much care is devoted to their instruction in the art of music. In their education the following method is pursued. "The birds are taken from the nests of wild ones when about ten days old, and are brought up by a person who is very kind and attentive to them, so that they very soon grow gentle and tame. As soon as they begin to whistle their studies commence, they being then about two months' old. Formed into classes of six or so, they are kept a little while hungry and in the dark, whilst the tune they are to learn is played over to them on a bird-organ, which has a sort of bird-like note. Over and over again the same air is repeated, until, one by one, the birds begin to imitate what they hear. Directly they do this, light is admitted, and they have a little food given to them. By this means the birds learn to think of the tune and their dinners at the same time, and directly they hear the organ will begin to whistle. They are then turned over to the care of boys, whose sole business it is to go on with their education, each boy having a separate bird placed under his charge, and he plays away from morning to night, or as long as the birds can pay attention, during which time their first teacher, or feeder, goes his rounds, scolding or rewarding his feathered scholars by signs and modes which he has taught them to understand, until they become so perfect, and the tune, whatever it may be, so imprinted on their memory, that they will pipe it for the remainder of their lives."

Bullfinches that are perfect in their song, are worth a great deal of money. Both the male and female sing, but the colours of the male are the brightest. These birds, however, in confinement, lose their brilliancy of hue, and, from growing duskier and duskier, sometimes become entirely black, as if putting on mourning for their lost liberty. The same change has been observed in a bird which lost its mate to whom it had been tenderly attached. It is principally for its power of imitation and memory that this bird is prized. His wild notes, when loud, are not particularly sweet, but at times are very soft and plaintive.

I will conclude with a pretty and affecting little story of a piping bullfinch that once belonged to Sir William Parsons. When young he was a great musician, and had taught his bullfinch to sing "God Save the King." On going abroad, he committed his feathered friend to the care of his sister, with many injunctions to be watchful of its health and happiness.

On his return she told him the little bird had seemed pining away, and was then very ill. Grieved to hear this news, Sir William went at once to the room where it was kept, and, putting his hand into the cage, called the little creature. It knew the voice of the dear master for whom it had so pined and, opening its eyes and shaking its disordered feathers, as if to do him honour, staggered on to his finger, piped "God Save the King," and