any passion. He fain would speak to God, and his words are of this earth, earthy: he would look to his Maker, but he could not help see A MAN Set to watch a field of peas, which had been much preyed upon by pigeons, shot an old cock pigeon, who had long been an inhabitant of the farm. His mate, around whoming also that which distracted him, he had for many a year cooed, and nourished from his own crop, and assisted in rearing numerous young ones, immediately settled on the ground near him, and showed her grief in the most expressive manner. The labourer took up the dead bird, and tied it to a short stake, thinking that it would frighten away the other depredators. In this situation, however, his partner did not forsake him, but continued day after day walking slowly round the stick. The kind-hearted wife of the bailiff of the farm at last heard of the circumstance, and immediately went to afford what relief she could to the poor bird. She told me that on arriving at the spot she found the hen bird much exhausted, and that she had made a circular beaten track round the dead pigeon, making now and then a little spring towards him. On the removal of the dead bird, the hen returned to the dove-cot.-existing in our globe, and partaking JESSE. and a tempest was raised and the man over-ruled: his prayer was broken and his thoughts were troubled, and his words ascended to the clouds, and the wandering of his imagination recalled them, and in all the fluctuating varieties of passion they are never like to reach to God at all. But he sits him down and sighs over his infirmity, and fixes his thoughts upon things above, and forgets all the little vain passages of this life, and his spirit is becalmed and his soul is even and still, and then it softly and sweetly ascends to heaven on the wings of the Holy Dove, and dwells with God, till it returns, like the useful bee, loaden with a blessing and the dew of heaven.-JEREMY TAYLOR. I HAVE seen a lark rising from his bed of grass and soaring upwards, singing as he rises and in hopes to get to Heaven and climb above the clouds; but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighing of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and inconstant, descending more at every breath of the tempest than all the vibrations of his wings served to exalt him: till the little creature was forced to sit down and pant, and stay till the storm was overpast; and then it made a prosperous flight; for then it did rise and sing, as if it had learned music and motion from some angel as he passed some time through the air. So is the prayer of a good man when agitated by IT is obviously impossible to enumerate the amount of the individual living creatures which are always of its produce in some way or other, yet so admirably are the whole placed and disposed, and the size and movement of each, so carefully regulated and adapted to us and to each other, that we are neither disturbed by the number, nor even conscious of it. There is no crowding, no confusion: the enormous amount is nowhere visible to our sense. We must search it out in order to know it. We must calculate from what we can observe, before we can perceive or believe the ever-palpable but unobtrusive truth. What but an all-mighty and alladjusting sagacity, infinitely beyond the highest expansions of human genius, could have arranged such inexpressible multitudes of living, sentient, and ever-moving beings into positions, limitations, and ha bits so wisely appropriated to each, | so productive of comfort to every one, and yet so conservative of the harmony, the order, and the general welfare of the immense and multiform whole.-SHARON TUR NER. A CELEBRATED voyager once saw a stream of Stormy Petrels, which was from fifty to eighty yards deep, and three hundred yards or more broad. The birds were not scattered, but flying as compactly as the full movements of their wings seemed to allow; and this stream of petrels for an hour and half continued to pass without intermission, at a rate little inferior to the swiftness of the pigeon. It is calculated that the number of Petrels would amount to one hundred and fiftyone millions and a half. THROUGH lofty groves the ring dove roves, The path of man to shun it; The hazel-bush o'erhangs the thrush; The spreading thorn the linnet. Thus every kind their pleasure find, The savage and the tender; Some social join, and leagues combine; Some solitary wander.-BURNS. QUILLS are taken from the wings of ravens, swans, turkeys, and peacocks, as well as geese, and in some parts of the world the people write with reeds, particularly the Turks, Moors, and other inhabitants of the East. When the word pen occurs in our English translation of the Old and new Testament, we must not understand it of a pen made of a quill, but of an iron style, or a reed, with which the ancients wrote. The iron style was sharp at one end, like a pointed needle, to write with, and at the other blunt and broad, to scratch out what was written and not approved of. Goose quills are supposed to have been in use among us between four and five hundred years, and many of the quills used in England come from Hudson's Bay, Hamburgh, and Ireland.-Cressingham Rectory. Is it not remarkable, that the same temper of weather which raises a cover the trees with leaves, and the genial warmth in animals, should fields with grass, for their security and concealment, and produce such infinite swarms of insects for the support and sustenance of their respective broods?-ADDISON. THE WRYNECK. THE Wryneck derives its name from its peculiar habit of lengthening the neck, which at the same time it writhes from side to side with serpent-like bendings, now pressing down the feathers so as to resemble the head of a snake, and again half-closing the eyes, swelling out the throat, and erecting its crest, when it presents an appearance at once singular and ludicrous. Among our most interesting and attractive birds, this little harbinger of spring delights us, not by the spendour of its hues, but by the chastness of its colouring, and the delicate and singular way of its markings, which, from their intricacy and irregularity almost defy the imitations of the pencil. Among our migratory or wandering birds the Wryneck is one of the earliest visitors; arriving, at the beginning of April, generally a few days before the cuckoo, (whose mate, from this circumstance, it has been called) when his shrill unchanging note, pee pee pee, rapidly reiterated, may be heard in our woods and gardens. The places where this bird is found, appear to be very limited; the midland counties being those to which it usually resorts in England. M. Temminck informs us that it is seldom found beyond Sweden, and is rare in Holland, occupying in preference the central portions of Europe. We are able to add to this information, by stating that it is abundant in the Himalaya mountains in India, whence we have frequently received it as a common specimen of the birds of that range of hills, with others bearing equally a British character. In manners, the Wryneck is shy and lonesome; and were it not for its loud and well-known call, we should not often be aware of its presence; its quiet habits leading it to close retirement, and its sober colour, which agrees with the brown bark of the trees, tending also to its concealment. Inconfinement, however, or when wounded, this little bird manifests much boldness; hissing like a snake, erecting its crest, and defending itself with great spirit. It breeds with us soon after its arrival, the female selecting the hole of a tree, in which she lays her eggs, to the number of eight or nine, of an ivory white. The young take after the plumage of the parent birds, which shows scarcely any difference between the two sexes. The food of the Wryneck, like that of the weaker-billed Woodpeckers, consists of caterpillars and other insects, especially ants and their larvae, to which it is very partial. In the manner of taking its food this little bird makes but little use of the bill itself: its long hollow tongue, capable of being thrust out to a considerable distance, and made sticky by a proper gland, being the chief instrument. This it inserts between the crevices of the bark, or among the loose sandy earth of the ant-hill, thrusting it out and withdrawing it so rapidly, with the insect sticking to it, as almost to deceive the eye. Leaving England in the early part of the autumn, the Wryneck passes over to the southern districts of Europe, and probably extends its journey to Asia, where it finds a kindly climate, and food still abundant. ON THE FITNESS OF THE FORMS OF ANIMALS TO THEIR THERE are few things more worthy of observation, or more pleasing and instructive, than the way in which different animals are fitted for their appointed modes of life. We see in the management of them all such a depth of knowledge, such a wisdom of design, such a power of accomplishment, as is truly worthy of our highest admiration and most serious reflection. Let us even consider so simple a subject as the foot of a bird, and we shall find it full of contrivance and fitness for its purpose. Every part of nature is peopled with inhabitants. The bosom of the sea abounds with the finny tribes, and its surface forms a resting place for many families of the feathered creation. The numerous species of gulls, many of the duck tribe, the auks, the guillemots, the petrels, the divers, the cormorants, the goosanders, and various others, people the rocks and precipices, obtain their food in the ever restless waves, and many may in truth be said to have "their home upon the deep." Now the foot of a bird is always adapted to its mode of life. If any of these sea birds had a foot like that of a common fowl, a crow, a magpie, or a pigeon, it would not have served well for swimming; and hence we see that they are webfooted, like the duck or the goose. Their mode of living, however, is not in all cases the same, and in order to meet their different circumstances in this respect, there are corresponding variations in the foot; relating to its form, the degree in which it is webbed, the comparative length of the leg, or some other particular; for example, we have here represented the black-backed gull, and the common cormorant. Both swim, and both have webbed feet, yet there are several points of difference between them. dives immediately, and pursues its course under water, in a line to the spot: it is observed to fall with vast celerity; and, if the water is clear, takes the fish with certainty, and frequently before it falls to the bottom." But, in the natural state, how does the cormorant know where the prey is? If you were in a boat, even on the calmest day, you could not see a fish from a distance of twenty or thirty feet, at ten or twelve below the surface, and still less if there were any breeze or ripple. Now how does the bird manage? The author just quoted states, that, when fishing, it always keeps its head under water, in order that it may the more clearly and certainly discover the prey. There is still something more in the foot of the cormorant: but I must first explain to you what I mean by the foot of a bird; for, anatomically speaking, it consists of more than the part merely on which the bird rests. Observe a common fowl walking about,which is its leg? You point to the Why are the feet placed so much further back in the cormorant ? they are so far behind, that the bird, as you see, stands nearly erect. The reason is this: the Creator has determined, in his wisdom, that the one bird should seek its food on the surface of the water, and the other beneath it; that one, also, should feed while on land as well as on water, but the other in the water exclusively. Now the gull cannot dive, however well it can swim; and, in consequence, it can only obtain such prey, or eatable substances, as are to be found floating on or near the surface; but the cormorant feeds on fishes, which it pursues under water; and the back-pillar covered by a scaly skin, which ward position of the legs, it will be evident, must assist it most materially in diving after them. You will observe a difference, too, in the manner in which the foot is webbed in the two species; in the gull, the back-toe is very small, and not connected with the others; while in the cormorant it is not only of considerable length, but is united by a membrane to the other three, so that, in this bird, the whole four toes are webbed and connected together, a circumstance which tends to give it great velocity, when diving in pursuit of prey. Montagu, speaking of a tame cormorant, observes, that "it is almost incredible, to see with what dexterity this bird dives and seizes its prey: knowing its own powers under water, if a fish is thrown in at a great distance, it frequently stands between the toes and the feathers. Now suppose that this fowl submits to the usual fate of its race; that it is killed and dressed, and that I request you to help me to a leg. Do you find any difference in the part you send me, from what you considered as the leg in the living fowl? In fact, you help me not to the leg only, but also to the thigh; while the naked part, which you considered as the leg in the living bird, is wanting altogether. From this you will see, that what you had considered as the knee is in reality the ankle or heel; that what is commonly called the drumstick is the leg, and the portion above it, which is attached to the side bone by the round ball, or head of the thigh bone, is the thigh. If you examine, then, the leg of a duck or goose, you will find, that though it is compressed at the sides, still it has considerable thickness in front. These birds, however, do not require to swim with great velocity; and, in fact, a slow and deliberate examination and search with their bills is the most usual way of obtaining their subsistence. But we may readily conceive that in a bird, which, like the cormorant, depends chiefly for its success in capturing its prey on the rapidity with which the latter can be followed, such a leg would be less properly fitted, since it would offer, considerable resistance and retard the velocity. Now here again we have an example of that wisdom which pervades every thing, whether the revolutions of worlds, the motions of a fly, or the structure of a bird. The cormorant's leg is so flattened on the sides, that the front edge, which cuts the water, is not thicker than the blade of a carving-knife.-Letters to a young Naturalist. PERILOUS LEAP OF A BIRD CATCHER. Ir is chiefly on the most rugged shores of Scotland, or on the more rugged rocks of the several adjacent islands, or still further to the north, in the Shetland or Ferroe Islands, that this "dreadful trade" is carried on in the perfection of its horrors; though in some parts of Wales, (as, for instance, near the South Stack, in Anglesey,) and the Needle Rocks in the Isle of Wight, adventurous climbers will occasionally exhibit feats of perilous achievement, quite sufficient to satisfy most beholders. In some parts of the coast, immense mounds or fragments of rocks have been cut off from the main land by terrible convulsions of nature, or the incessant wearing of waves through fissures and narrow channels for successive ages. On a few of these spots, sea-birds, for a time, rested securely, till some bold adventurers devised the means of invading their territories, crossing the space by means of cradles, suspended on ropes thrown across. But though here and there, accommodations like this, for facilitating the visits of the bird-catchers to their particular haunts, may be at hand, by far the greater number are taken by enterprising individuals, who have only their own steadiness of head, strength of muscle, and dauntless spirit, to ensure success. We will describe the means and proceedings of those in St Kilda, a small speck of an island, the most westward and distant, (save a still smaller needle-pointed uninhabited spot, called Rockall,) in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, containing a few people, who, from infancy accustomed to precipices, drop from crag to crag, as fearlessly as the birds themselves. Their great dependence is upon ropes of two sorts; one made of hides,-the other of hair of cows' tails, all of the same thickness. The former are the most ancient, and still continue in the greatest esteem, as being stronger, and less liable to wear away, or be cut, by rubbing against the sharp edges of rocks. These ropes are of various lengths, from ninety to a hundred and twenty, and nearly two hundred feet in length, and about three inches in circumference. Those of hide are made of cows' and sheep's hides mixed together. The hide of the sheep, after being cut into narrow slips, is plated over with a broader slip of cow's hide. Two of these are then twisted together; so that the rope, when untwisted, is found to consist of two parts, and each of these contains a length of sheepskin, covered with cow's hide. For the best, they will ask about thirteen pence a fathom, at which price they sell them to each other. |