devour flies; but its most delicious morsel was any species of hairy caterpillar; these insects it seized with avidity, shook them to death, and softened by passing several times through the bill, till they were quite pliant, when it would swallow whole the largest of the caterpillars of the egger or drinker moths. It was very fearful of strangers, fluttering in its cage to avoid their attentions; but it would quietly suffer itself to be handled by a young lady, who had been its kind benefactress, appearing to like the warmth of her hand to its feet. But now let us listen to another poet :

"Hark! the cuckoo's sprightly note,

That tells the coming of the vernal prime,
And cheers the heart of youth and aged man.
Say, sweet stranger, whence hast thou ta'en thy flight,
From Asia's spicy groves, or Afric's clime;
And who direct'st the wandering journey far?
Philosophy says, instinct-Religion, God.
Though simple in thy note, it speaks to man's
Reflecting soul, since thou didst wing thy course
From Albion's cliffs, another year is gone.

A year! how short the space unnoticed by

. The gay and mindless throng, yet awful to
The race of human kind.

Another year may pass, unheeded as

The one so lately number'd in the book

Of Time, and thou wilt take thy flight to realms
Unknown; but when thou cheer'st the future spring,
Will those who now admire the song, walk forth
To hear the lay? This awful question brings

A thousand thoughts of solemn import to
Th' attentive mind. Another year! and then,
O God! the souls that greet this smiling morn,
May stand for judgment at thy dreadful throne!
This serious call should check man's sinful course,
And raise his views to heaven."

THE BLACKBIRD.

THIS bird is an early breeder: it prepares a nest composed externally of green moss, fibrous roots, and other similar materials; the inside is plastered with earth, and afterwards lined with dry grass; and the nest is generally placed in a thick bush, or against the side

of a bank.

The song of the blackbird commences early in the spring, and is a shrill kind of whistle of various notes. It has much less variety and compass than the voice of the thrush, but it is far more mellow. Of this bird

Grahame says :

"When snow-drops die, and the green primrose leaves
Announce the coming flower, the merle's note,
Mellifluous, rich, deep-toned, fills all the vale,
And charms the ravished ear. The hawthorn bush
New budded, is his perch; there the grey dawn
He hails; and there, with parting light, concludes
His melody. There, when the buds begin,
More richly full, melodious he renews."

Another poet, Montgomery, says: "Those who

live in the country, and who are apt to awake early

on spring mornings, when all around is still, and the lark himself is yet on the ground, must often have been charmed with the solitary song of the blackbird, a brief stave of six or seven notes only, followed by an interlude of silence, during which the ear listens eagerly for a repetition. His broad and homely strain, different from that of every other minstrel of the woods, and chiming in at intervals with the universal chorus of wild throats, is likewise known from infancy to those who have been accustomed to walk abroad on

spring evenings. The yellow bill and glossy black plumage of the same conspicuous bird are equally familiar to the eye of such, when he flits from hedge to tree, or across a meadow; nor less so to their ear is the chuckling call with which he bolts out of a bush before the startled passenger, who has unconsciously disturbed him on his perch.

MORNING.

"Golden Bill! Golden Bill!

Lo! the peep of day;

All the air is cool and still,

From the elm-tree on the hill,

Chaunt away:

While the moon drops down the west,

Lies thy mate upon her nest;

And the stars before the sun

Melt, like snow-flakes, one by one.

Let thy loud and welcome lay

Pour along

Few notes, but strong."

EVENING.

"Jet-bright Wing! Jet-bright Wing!
Flit across the sunset glade;
Lying there in wait to sing,
Listen, with thine head awry,

Keeping time with twinkling eye,
While, from all the woodland shade,
Birds of every plume and note
Strain the throat,

Till both hill and valley ring,
And the warbled minstrelsy,
Ebbing, flowing, like the sea,
Claims brief interludes from thee:
Then, with simple swell and fall,
Breaking beautiful through all,
Let thy Pan-like pipe repeat
Few notes, but sweet."