in this situation a short time, feeling about with the extremities of its wings, as if to be convinced whether the business was properly executed, and then dropped into the nest again. With these (the extremities of its wings) I have often seen it examine, as it were, an egg or nestling before it began its operations; and the nice sensibility which these parts appeared to possess, seemed to compensate for the want of sight, which as yet it was destitute of. I afterwards put in an egg, and this, by a similar process, was conveyed to the edge and thrown out. This experiment I have often repeated, with the same result."

Such are the very bad habits of the noted Cuckoo. We are sorry to say that we have seen conduct strongly resembling his in individuals of our own species. They make it a business to lay their eggs in other people's nests, and take care that their cormorant brood shall be fed by the toils of their neighbours.

A wren built its nest in a box so situated that a family had an opportunity of observing the mother-bird instructing the young ones in the art of singing peculiar to the species.

She fixed herself on one side of the opening in the box, directly before her young, and began by singing over the whole song very distinctly. One of the young then attempted to imitate her. After proceeding through a few notes, its voice broke, and it lost the tune. The mother immediately recommenced where the young one had failed, and went very distinctly through the remainder.

The young bird now made a second attempt, commencing where it had ceased before, and continuing the song as long as it was able; and when the note was again lost, the mother began anew where it stopped, and finished it. Then the young one resumed the tune, and completed it. This done, the mother sang over the whole series of notes a second time with great precision, and a second of the young attempted to follow her. The wren pursued the same course with this as with the first, and so with the third and fourth.

It sometimes happened that the young one would lose the tune, three, four, or more times, in the same attempt, in which case the mother uniformly began where they ceased, and sang the remaining notes; and when each had completed the trial, she repeated the whole strain. Sometimes two of the young commenced together. The mother observed the same conduct toward them as when they sang alone. This was repeated day after day, and several times in a day.

Pretty Wren, you are taking green moss for your nest,
A home to be making to shelter your nest;

A winter store bringing, so careful and wise,

And all the while singing your thanks to the skies,
Pretty Wren!

Pretty Wren, tiny creature, the smallest of birds,
You are a kind teacher-far better than words:
To be prudent and clever like you I must be,
Content with whatever is destin'd for me,

Pretty Wren!

is made of a particular kind of long, tough grass, that will bend without breaking, and this grass is knit or sewed through and through in a thousand directions, just as if done with a needle. The little creature

does it with its feet and bill. Mr. Wilson, the American naturalist, says that he one day showed one of these nests to an old lady, and she was so much struck with the work that she asked him, half in earnest, if he did not think that these birds could be taught to darn stockings? This gentleman took the pains, too, to draw out one of these grass threads, and found that it measured thirteen inches, and in that distance the bird that used it had passed it in and out thirty-four times.

"I saw," says a writer who took a great interest in the habits of birds, "when I was in the West Indies, another kind of starling which will cut leaves into a shape like the quarter of an orange-rind, and sew the whole very neatly to the under side of a banana-leaf, so as to make one side of the nest. But there is another most beautiful little bird, which is called the Tailor-Bird, because it sews so well. It first picks out a plant with large leaves, then it gathers cotton from the shrub, and with the help of its fine long bill and slender little feet, it spins this cotton into a thread, and then, using its bill for a needle, it will sew these large leaves together to hide its nest, and sew them very neatly too."

"It wins my admiration

To view the structure of that little work

A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without;-
No tool had he that wrought; no knife to cut
No nail to fix; no bodkin to insert;

No glue to join-his little beak was all:

And yet, how neatly finish'd! What nice hand,
With every implement and means of art,
And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot,
Could make me such another? Fondly, then,
We boast of excellence, whose noblest skill
Instinctive genius fails!"

in England. It builds in woods and forests in the neighbourhood of man, and sometimes it chooses groves, in the midst of cities, as a place of retreat and security. In

rookeries, which, during the winter seem to have been deserted, or only guarded by about five or six, like old soldiers in a garrison, now begin to be once more frequented; and in a short time all the bustle and hurry of business is fairly commenced.

They keep together in pairs for some time previous to making their nests and laying. The old inhabitants of the rookery are already provided for; the nests which served them for years before, with a little trimming and dressing, will serve very well again; the difficulty of nestling lies only on the young ones, who have no nest, and must therefore construct one as well as they can. But not only are the materials wanting, but also the place in which to fix it. Every part of a tree will not do for this purpose, as some branches may not be sufficiently forked; others may not be strong enough; and some may be too much exposed to the rockings of the wind. The male and female, upon occasions like these, are for some days seen examining all the trees of the grove very attentively; and when they have fixed upon a branch that seems fit for their purpose, they continue to sit upon and observe it very carefully for two or three days longer. The place being thus determined upon, they commence gathering the materials for their nest, such as sticks and fibrous roots, which they regularly dispose in the most substantial manner. But here a new and unexpected obstacle arises. It often happens that the young pair have made choice of a place too near the mansion of an older pair, who do not desire the acquaintance of their neighbours. Disputes are therefore of frequent occurrence, and the contests are of great violence. New comers are often in this manner beaten from the place. An instance of this occurred near Newcastle in the year 1783. A pair of rooks, after an unsuccessful attempt to establish themselves in a rookery, were compelled to abandon the attempt, and take refuge on the spire of the Exchange; and though constantly interrupted by other rooks, they built their nest on the top of the vane, and reared their young ones undisturbed by the noise of the populace below. The nest and its inhabitants were of course turned about by every change of the wind. They returned and built their nest every year in the same place till 1793, soon after which year the spire was taken down.

THE COMMON PARTRIDGE.

IN ornithology, the Partridge belongs to a genus of birds of the order of gallina. The beak is strong and short; the head is pretty and the

shape is peculiar to itself and the Quail, both having a very short tail. The plumage is a mixture of brown and fawn colour, interspersed with grey and ash colour tints. Their growth is very quick; their flight is low and of a small compass, and they run almost as soon as hatched. Partridges are found almost in every country, and in every clime, from the torrid tracks under the equator, to the frozen regions of the pole. It is very striking, how, by the wise arrangements of the Creator, this interesting bird becomes assimilated and adapted to the climate of Greenland in winter. As soon as the icy winter sets in, it is clothed with a warm down beneath, and its outward feathers become as white as the snow among which it seeks its food. In warmer climates, near the equator, they are long-legged, much swifter of foot, and choose for their residence the highest rocks and precipices. It is said, that on the lofty Alps the partridges are white, and their feet protected by hair. Common partridges delight most in corn-fields while the corn is growing, where they shelter and breed. In winter, when the stubble-fields are ploughed up, they resort to the upland meadows, and lodge among the furze.

the brood was hatched the birds scrambled down the short and rough boughs, which grew out all around the trunk of the tree, and reached the ground in safety.

Partridges are in great esteem among all lovers of the table, and hence the saying

"If the Partridge had the woodcock's thigh,
'Twould be the best bird that ever did fly."