universally admired, their general liveliness, gaiety, and song would
endear them to mankind. It appears, however, from accurate observations
founded upon experiment, that the notes peculiar to different kinds of
birds are altogether acquired, and that they are not innate, any more
than language is to man. The attempt of a nestling bird to sing has been
compared to the endeavour of a child to talk. The first attempts do not
seem to possess the slightest rudiments of the future song; but, as the
bird grows older and becomes stronger, it is easily perceived to be
aiming at acquiring the art of giving utterance to song. Whilst the
scholar is thus endeavouring to form his notes, when he is once sure of
a passage, he usually raises his tone, but drops it again when he finds
himself unequal to the voluntary task he has undertaken. "Many
well-authenticated facts," says an ingenious writer, "seem decisively to
prove that birds have no innate notes, but that, like mankind, the
language of those to whose care they have been committed at their birth,
will be their language in after-life." It would appear, however,
somewhat unaccountable why, in a wild state, they adhere so steadily to
the song of their own species only, when the notes of so many others are
to be heard around them. This is said to arise from the attention paid
by the nestling bird to the instructions of its own parent only,
generally disregarding the notes of all the rest. Persons; however, who
have an accurate ear, and who have given their attention to the songs of
birds, can frequently distinguish some which have their notes mixed with
those of another species; but this is in general so trifling, that it
can hardly be considered as more than the mere varieties of provincial
dialects.