chooses for its nest a shallow cavity among grass or moss in a bank, or at the foot of a tree. Not unfrequently too are the words of the poet verified :—

"High is his perch, but humble is his home,

And well concealed; sometimes within the sound
Of heartsome mill-clack, where the spacious door,
White with dust, tells him plenty reigns around:
Close at the root of brier-bush that o'erhangs
The narrow stream, with shealings bedded white,
He fixes his abode, and lives at will.
Oft near some single cottage he prefers
To rear his little home; there, pert and spruce,
He shares the refuse of the good wife's churn;
Nor seldom does he neighbour the low roof
Where tiny elves are taught."

A redbreast built her nest in a little hollow on the side of a heap of manure, the materials of which were brought partly from the stable, and partly from the seashore, the heap being placed in an enclosure on the outside of a garden, and under a sort of pent-house formed by a lock of the sea-weed. Here, too, she hatched her young, undisturbed by the persons continually passing by, though her nest was very near to the garden door, and apparently unmolested also by the manure-heap being dug away within a couple of feet of her abode, which she entered and left whoever happened to look

on.

Another redbreast found an abode in a house standing

in a garden. This dwelling was almost covered with ivy: round some of the windows was a light trellis, with which roses and other flowering plants were interwoven, and on the sill of one of them, and in a snug recess within the trellis, the nest was formed. It was the window of a parlour, from which she was often observed by the different members of the family, though she would frequently have escaped notice but for the bright sparkling of her eye. But as the window was not opened, and care was taken not to disturb her, she in due time hatched her brood, and carried off her safety.

young in

A pair of robins chose for their dwelling a small cottage, which served as a depository for potatoes, harness, and various other articles, and was often visited by its owners. It closely adjoined, too, a large blacksmith's shop, where a huge hammer, worked not by hand, but by water, kept up a constant noise. These circumstances might be supposed to alarm the settlers, but they were undisturbed: they entered through a windowframe, the lattice of which had been removed, and actually built their first nest, early in the spring, in a child's covered cart, which, with its horse attached to it, was hanging to a peg over the fire-place, and just afforded space for the purpose. So curious a circumstance at

tracted attention, and many came to look at the nest, where the birds, without displaying any alarm, reared their first brood.

As soon as their offspring were full-fledged, they set about providing for another family, and built their second nest on a shelf, close to an old mouse-trap, on the opposite side of the room. Here again they had many visitors, but in due time dismissed their progeny. A third nest was soon afterwards built under the same roof. Another shelf was now chosen in a different corner of the same room, and there were soon seen in their mossy bed, placed on a bundle of papers, four halffledged nestlings, the hen-bird entering the room while the party were there.

The song of the robin attracts regard not only for its sweetness and peculiarity, but also for the indication it affords of changes in the atmosphere. When spring comes he warbles, for a short time, in so singular a strain, as even to startle and puzzle those who often listen to the notes of birds. Though the weather in summer may be unsettled and rainy, he is sometimes observed on the roof of a house, or on some topmost twig in the evening, pouring forth his mellow or liquid notes, and singing cheerfully and heartily. Now he will be found a kind of barometer, for he foretells succeeding

fine days. The reverse is the case, though the atmosphere is dry and warm, if, in a melancholy state, he chirps and broods in a bush, or hides in a hedge. In autumn his pipings are grave but sweet; and in winter a few chirps are all that are to be expected.

Many a reader will sympathize with Dr. Jenner as he said:

"Come, sweetest of the feather'd throng!
And soothe me with thy plaintive song:
Come to my cot, devoid of fear,
No danger shall await thee here;
No prowling cat, with whisker'd face,
Approaches this sequester'd place;
No schoolboy, with his willow bow,
Shall aim at thee a murderous blow;
No wily limed twig e'er molest
Thy olive wing or crimson breast.
Thy cup, sweet bird! I'll daily fill

At yonder cressy, bubbling rill;

Thy board shall plenteously be spread

With crumblets of the nicest bread;

And when rude Winter comes, and shows
His icicles and shivering snows,

Hop o'er my cheering hearth, and be
One of my peaceful family;

Then soothe me with thy plaintive song,

Thou sweetest of the feather'd throng."

THE STARLING.

It is found in almost
Many stay with us the

THIS is a plentiful species. every part of the old continent. whole year; but the vast flocks seen in severe winters probably migrate hither in search of food, and return northward in the spring. Starlings chiefly feed on insects, but if these fail, they will eat grain. In winter they will resort to our pigeon-houses for the sake of warmth; and here great numbers are frequently taken. They make their nests of dry grass, in old buildings, or in the holes of trees. The natural notes of this bird are a chattering noise and a shrill whistle; but in confinement it becomes very docile, and puts forth its imitative powers.

Mr. Syme says, he went one morning with a friend to see a collection of birds belonging to a gentleman in Antigua-street, Edinburgh; and among these were some very fine starlings, one of which cost five guineas. Breakfast was ready before they entered the room. When the bird was produced, it flew to his master's