I cannot better complete my account of the nightingale's song than by transcribing the delightful, though somewhat exaggerated picture, which has been given of it by Buffon. "There is no well organised man," says he, "to whom the name of the nightingale does not recall some one of those fine nights in spring, when the sky being clear, the air calm, all nature silent, and as it were attentive, he has listened with delight to the song of this chorister of the woods. Several singing birds may be named whose voices in some respects may compete with that of the nightingale; the lark, the canary, the greenfinch, the blackcap, the linnet, the goldfinch, the common blackbird, the solitary thrush, the American mocking-bird, are all listened to with pleasure when the nightingale is silent: some have fine tones, others have their voice as clear as it is soft, others have as fine flourishes, but there is not one which the nightingale does not surpass in the complete union of all these different talents, and in the prodigious variety of his songs; so that the song of each of the above-named birds is, when taken in its whole extent, only one couplet of that of the nightingale. The nightingale always charms, and never copies himself servilely; if he repeats any passage it is animated with a new accent, embellished by new ornaments. He succeeds in all styles, he renders all expressions, he seizes all characters, and he also augments their effect by contrast. If this Coryphæus of the spring prepares to sing a hymn to nature, he begins by a timid prelude, by faint uncertain sounds, as if he would try his instrument and interest his audience; then gaining courage he becomes gradually animated, warmed, and he soon displays in their plenitude all the resources of his incomparable organ, brilliant bursts, lively delicate trills, volleys of notes whose distinctness equals their volubility; an internal dull murmur, not itself pleasing to the ear, but very fit to enhance the brilliancy of the agreeable strains, sudden, brilliant, and rapid runs, articulated with strength, and even a tasteful ruggedness, plaintive accents, tender cadences; sounds dwelt on without art, but swelling with sentiment; enchantingly penetrating notes, the true sighs of voluptuousness and love, which seem to come from the heart, and make all hearts palpitate; which produce in all who are not insensible a delightful emotion, a touching languor. In those impassioned tones are recognised the language of sentiment which a happy husband addresses to his beloved partner, and which she alone can inspire; while in other strains, more surprising perhaps, but less expressive, are discovered the simple wish of amusing and pleasing her, or of disputing before her the prize of singing with rivals jealous of his glory and happiness.