This bird may become, under favourable circumstances, very familiar. One of them built a nest in a workshop at Taunton. It was not only a room occupied by braziers, whose noise was loud and incessant, but also near the wheel of a lathe, which revolved within a foot of the little dwelling. Here, strange as it may seem, the bird hatched four young ones; but the male, not accustomed to such society, appeared disinclined to follow the usual course of feeding the nestlings; for he carried the food he collected to a certain spot on the roof, where he left it, and from thence it was borne by his mate, who flew in and out of the shop without the slightest fear. She, however, was disturbed by the presence of a stranger

if in her nest, she would quit it on his appearance; or if absent, would not return; but, the moment he was gone, she was as familiar as before.

THE LAPWING.

THIS bird breeds early in the spring on heaths and upland situations, in fens and moist fields, and not unfrequently in old fallow land, and is common in most parts of the kingdom. The female is not so brilliant in colour as the male; some of the feathers of his crest, too, are above three inches in length, but hers are much shorter.

It is a curious fact, that the eggs of this and some other birds are commonly four, much tapering to the smaller end, and are always placed in a quadrangular manner, touching each other at the smaller ends, by which they occupy the least possible space. As soon as they are hatched, the young make use of their legs; but they are not able to fly till nearly full-grown. They are not fed by the parents, but led by them in search of food. The name of lapwing has been given this bird from the constant flapping of its wings in flight; it is also called the pe-wit, from the resemblance of its note to the sound of that word.

To entice any animal, that may be dreaded, away from its nests or young, the lapwing has often recourse to stratagem. Some of its movements of this kind are amusing. It will strike with the bend of the wing so near to a person's head, that the stroke may be distinctly heard; and it will actually hit birds which prowl about, and even dogs. One writer tells us of his crossing a lonely moor, half heath, half quagmire, where lapwings were more than usually abundant and clamorous, and a little before him was a countryman, accompanied by one of the yelping curs of which such people are sometimes too fond. The dog seemed determined on hunting lapwings, and they as willing to give him some sport. Various, indeed, were their manœuvres: they limped before him, flew low in twitches, and came close upon him, by all kinds of motions both on foot and on the wing, and the dog was fatiguing himself by hopeless leaps at the flyers, and hopeless starts after the runners. At last, one came twitching down, and struck the cur with his bill, or the bend of his wing. Audible was the blow, and, doubtless, painful too, for the dog went yelping, with his tail between his legs, to his master, and gave up, for that time at least, so profitless and disastrous a chace.

A clergyman, who kept a lapwing in his garden,