hidden, by those at least who are acquainted with the haunts and habits of the bird. The name of Troglodyta, applied to it by the older naturalists, and still continued, (Sylvia Troglodytes, LATH.; Troglodytes Europaus, CUVIER), is derived from an ancient race of people inhabiting Ethiopia, who lived in caves *. It is very usual for the wren to build under the brow of a river's bank, where the turf overhangs from being undermined by the stream. But the bird seems equally partial to the shelter afforded by ivy on trees or walls, though it will often build under the fork of a bare overhanging bough; and we have now before us a specimen built in the small upper spray of a hawthorn. It will be found, perhaps, more commonly still, sheltered under the projecting side of a haystack, or the overhanging thatch of a cottage-eave †.

We

The usual staple material of this nest is green moss (Hypnum velutinum, &c.), which the wren collects in great quantity; and, apparently to save itself the trouble of frequent journeys for materials, it sometimes carries a tuft of moss nearly as bulky as itself. We have picked out several such tufts from the nest in the hawthorn spray just mentioned, which are evidently not felted nor cemented together by saliva, but as they have naturally grown on the tree. have often seen a house-sparrow flying with a piece of packthread, or bass, more than a yard long, and consequently about six times its own length; but it must be a much more curious sight to see a wren carrying a piece of moss almost as large as its own body. When the wren attaches its nest to the bare clay, under an overhanging piece of turf, as well as when it selects the moss-grown trunk of a tree, it first sketches an oval outline of the structure, by

*Pliny. Hist. Nat. v. 8.

† J. R.

gluing with saliva bits of moss all round, so as to be narrower at top than bottom.

Sometimes, instead of attaching the back of the nest to the clay, it fixes only the arch of the top to that support, the under part of the nest being built downwards and suspended therefrom. This foundation of moss is increased by inserting fresh pieces, apparently glued with saliva, as the foundation is glued to the clay, till a large hemisphere is constructed, about twenty times the bulk of the little architect, with a small oval hole in the side for an entrance. Sometimes moss is almost the only material used in the whole structure, a smooth bed of the finer sort being employed for a lining. But most commonly there are a few straws, sticks, or dead leaves on the outside, by way of binding to the moss; while the interior is lined with hair, wool, shavings of wood, cotton, worsted, feathers, down, and similar materials, according as they can be had, or rather according to the experience of the birds and their different notions of comfort; for we have found the nests thus varying even in the same locality*.

It is not a little remarkable that the same bird, though so partial to moss as a building material, in other instances, scarcely uses any. We have now two of these nests before us of this sort. One, which was built in a haystack, is chiefly composed of withered grass of the softer kinds (Holcus lanatus, &c.), and of some of the finer twigs of birch, bent into a circular form, the convex part being downwards, and the concavity encompassing the oval entrance of the nest. There is in this a few bits of moss on the back of the structure, as well as in the interior. Another, built in an adjoining haystack, was chiefly of moss, which shews that the locality does not always influence the choice of materials.

* J. R.

A second nest which we possess has no woody twigs, and scarcely any moss in the walls, which are composed of straw and dried grass (Lolium, Agrostis, Poa, &c.), several with the seed-panicles; while within it is lined with dog's-hair, and apparently the scrapings from the barrels of writingquills, procured, no doubt, from the sweepings of a neighbouring school-room *. There is a similar specimen in the British Museum.

a hawthorn.

* J. R.

The statement of Colonel Montagu, copied by Atkinson, that the wren's nest is "invariably lined with feathers," is no less incorrect than maintaining it to be always adapted to the selected locality. We have seen a nest of moss in a haystack, and others of the same material under the thatch of cottages and barns; which agrees also with the observations of Mr. Jennings *.

An anonymous correspondent of Mr. Loudon's Magazine says, "Many wrens' nests may be found which have no feathers-but did you ever find either eggs or young ones in them? As far as my observation goes, the fact is that the nest in which the wren lays its eggs is profusely lined with feathers: but, during the period of incubation, the male, apparently from a desire to be doing something, constructs as many as half a dozen nests in the vicinity of the first, none of which are lined; and, whilst the first nest is so artfully concealed as to be seldom found, the latter are very frequently seen. The wren does not appear to be very careful in the selection of a site for the cocknests, as they are called by the schoolboys in Yorkshire. I have frequently seen them in the twigs of a thick thorn-hedge, under banks, in hay-stacks, in ivy-bushes, in old stumps, in the loopholes of buildings, and in one instance in an old bonnet placed among some peas to frighten away the black-caps t." We apprehend that these supposed cock-nests are nothing more than the unfinished structures of paired birds.

The wren sometimes lays as many as eighteen eggs, but more commonly six or eight, whence Willughby remarks that "it is strange, to admiration, that so small a bodied bird should feed such a company of young, and not miss one bird, * Ornithologia, p. 243. Mag. of Nat. Hist. iii, 568.

when the swans assemble together, and form a sort of commonwealth; it is during severe colds. When the frost threatens to usurp their domain, they congregate and dash the water with all the extent of their wings, making a noise which is heard very far, and which, whether in the day or in the night, is louder in proportion to the intensity of the frost. Their efforts are so effectual, that there are few instances of a flock of swans having quitted the water in the longest frosts; though a single swan which has strayed from the general body has sometimes been arrested by the ice in the middle of the canals."

We shall close the subject with the very minute observations of the Abbé Arnaud, derived from his own experience. "One can hardly say," the Abbé remarks, "that the swans of Chantilly sing: they cry; but their cries are truly and constantly modulated : their voice is not sweet; on the contrary, it is shrill, piercing, and rather disagreeable; I could compare it to nothing better than the sound of a clarionet winded by a person unacquainted with the instrument. Almost all the melodious birds answer to the song of man, and especially to the sound of instruments: I played long on the violin beside our swans, on all the tones and chords; I even struck unison to their own accents without their seeming to pay the smallest attention; but if a goose be thrown into the basin where they swim with their young, the male, after emitting some hollow sounds, rushes impetuously upon the goose, and seizing it by the neck, he plunges the head repeatedly under water, striking it at the same time with his wings; it would be all over with the goose, if it were not rescued. The swan, with his wings expanded, his neck stretched, and his head erect, comes to place himself opposite to his female, and utters a cry to which the female replies by another, which is lower by half a tone. The voice of