an opposite direction to that from which peril is anticipated.

The rook has some qualities worthy of imitation by creatures of a far higher order the readers of this volume it is very regular in its daily movements, and loves cordial intercourse with its kind. Other birds associate together only for a time: thus water-fowl, ringdoves, and finches, will unite in great numbers when winter spreads its coldness and desolation around; but, on the return of spring, they separate, and return in pairs. But the rook is no hermit, delighted only when afar from its species: in flocks, it builds its nest, pursues its food, and retires to rest.

The sympathy of these birds with others, when suffering, surpasses that of birds in general. Thus a large colony of rooks subsisted many years on the banks of the river Irwell, near Manchester. One serene evening, a gentleman placed himself within view of it, and marked with attention the various labours, evolutions, and pastimes of this crowded society. The idle members amused themselves with chasing each other, and in their flight they made a variety of discordant noises. In the midst of their playful exertions, one rook, by a sudden turn, unfortunately struck his beak against the wing of another, and the sufferer instantly fell into the

river. A general cry of distress ensued: the birds hovered with every expression of anxiety over their distressed companion, and, at length, he sprang into the air, and, by one strong effort, reached the point of rock which projected into the water. Now the joy became universal; but, alas ! it was soon changed into lamentation; for the poor wounded bird, in attempting to fly towards its nest, dropped into the river, and was drowned amidst the lamentations of his whole fraternity.

Parent birds do not shrink from long-continued effort, when this is rendered necessary. In a hot summer, some years ago, many of the young brood of rooks of the season perished for want. As the mornings were without dew, few or no worms were to be obtained, and the tender birds were found dead on the trees. The cries of those that remained were very distressing, as no relief could be given them. The old birds seemed to suffer without complaint; and it was pleasing to observe the perseverance they displayed to relieve their famishing offspring, many of them remaining out in pursuit of food quite in the dusk, and returning to their roosts long after the period of retiring.

The rook is, therefore, a friend to the farmer. In ignorance or forgetfulness of this, many a rookery has been destroyed; and from the increase of destructive

insects in consequence, the error has been lamented. In a country walk, the utility of these birds may be perceived. As the ploughman proceeds with his labour, he will be followed by rooks; but the sower will have no such companions. The power they have of discovering the grub of the cockchafer by scent, is very extraordinary. A field is described which had all the appearance of having been scorched, as if by a burning sun in dry, hot weather: the turf peeled from the ground as if it had been cut with a turfing spade; and it appeared that the roots of the grass had been eaten away by the larvæ of the cockchafer, countless numbers of which were found at various depths in the soil. Though there was no rookery within many miles of the neighbourhood, multitudes of rooks came hither, turned up the earth, and appeared to devour the grubs with great satisfaction.

Here another fact occurs which is worthy of remembrance. How often do we err in the conclusions at which we arrive? We assume that we are right, when this ought first to be determined before we flatter ourselves on the ground of our sagacity. But to select an instance: some few years ago there were several large elm-trees behind the ecclesiastical courts of Doctors' Commons, in which a number of rooks had

taken up their abode. On the opposite side lived a curious old civilian, who, observing from his study that the birds often dropped senseless from their perch without the cause of their so doing being apparent, set his wits to work to find what it could be. Having plenty of leisure, he weighed the matter over and over, till he was fully satisfied that he had made a great discovery, from which he expected, moreover, no little fame: he even, it is said, wrote a treatise, describing circumstantially what he had witnessed, and stated it as his settled conviction, that the rooks were subject to the falling sickness. But what was the fact? A young gentleman, who lodged in an attic near to the rooks, amused himself by silently thinning their numbers with a crossbow !

THE SWALLOW.

Or this genus of perchers, we have three native species-the bank, the chimney, and the window swallow. The bank swallow is the smallest, is not near so plentiful, but is more local. It is frequently seen about rivers, where it makes a nest in the banks, but most commonly in sandpits, where it can more easily form a secure place for its abode. The holes are generally horizontal, and about two or three feet deep.

This bird has been observed to cling with its sharp claws to the face of a sandbank, and use its closed bill, just as a miner would do his pickaxe, till it had loosened a considerable portion of the hard sand, and caused it to fall among the rubbish below. Some of these swallows' holes are as nearly circular as if they were marked out with a pair of compasses; while others are irregular in form, perhaps from the sand crumbling more away than in other instances. The bird always uses its own body to determine the proportions of the gallery, perching on the circumference with

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