Between the redstarts (Ruticilla) and the redbreast (Erithacus), next to be described, the bluethroats (Cyanecula) are placed, of which two species have been recorded as casual visitors to this country--the white-spotted bluethroat (_C. Wolfi_), from Western Europe; and the red-spotted bluethroat (_C. Suecica_), a breeder in the arctic regions. Redbreast. Erithacus rubecula. [Illustration: FIG. 25.--REDBREAST. ¼ natural size.] Upper parts olive-brown; forehead and breast red, the red edged with grey; belly white. _Female_: a trifle smaller than the male, and less bright in colour. Length, five inches and three-quarters. * * * * * Of man’s feathered favourites--the species he has thought proper to distinguish by a kindly protective sentiment--the redbreast probably ranks first, both on account of the degree of the feeling and its universality. The trustfulness of the familiar robin, especially in seasons of snow and frost, in coming about and entering our houses in quest of crumbs, is the principal cause of such a sentiment; but the highly attractive qualities of the bird have doubtless added strength to it. The bright red of his breast, intensified by contrast with the dark olive of the upper parts, gives him a rare beauty and distinction among our small songsters, which are mostly sober-coloured. Even more than beauty in colouring and form is a sweet voice; and here, where good singers are not few, the robin is among the best. Not only is he a fine singer, but in the almost voiceless autumn season, and in winter, when the other melodists that have not left our shores are silent, the robin still warbles his gushing, careless strain, varying his notes at every repetition, fresh and glad and brilliant as in the springtime. His song, indeed, never seems so sweet and impressive as in the silent and dreary season. For one thing, the absence of other bird-voices causes the robin’s to be more attentively listened to and better appreciated than at other times, just as we appreciate the nightingale best when he ‘sings darkling’--when there are no other strains to distract the attention. There is also the power of contrast--the bright, ringing lyric, a fountain of life and gladness, in the midst of a nature that suggests mournful analogies--autumnal decay and wintry death. There cannot be a doubt that the robin gives us all more pleasure with his music than any other singing-bird; we hear him all the year round and all our lives long, and his voice never palls on us. But those who have always heard it, for whom this sound has many endearing associations, might have some doubts about its intrinsic merits as a song--they might think that they esteem it chiefly because of the associations it has for them. In such a case one is glad to have an independent opinion--that, for instance, of an ‘intelligent foreigner,’ who has never heard this bird in his own country.