BLACK-AND-WHITE WATER-WAGTAIL.

79

him and withdraw his steps from the nest, which they often succeed in doing. If the nest and its cherished inmates should be captured, despite all their efforts, they are seen flying round the head of the spoiler, uttering piercing cries, as if to move him to compassion.

So careful are they to guard against the possibility of such an event, that they most scrupulously remove every thing from the neighbourhood of the nest, which could serve to point out its situation. So particular are they in this respect, that they have been known to carry away paper or straw, which has been laid as a mark to trace out the hiding-place. The principal part of these birds migrate in October; a few only remaining in this country. During the season in which they are absent from us, they are found in great numbers in Egypt, and likewise in Senegal, but they pass away from those countries in the spring, and return to our climate about the end of March.* In a book which aims

rather to be a popular introduction to ornithology, than a work of scientific pretension, we have not thought it necessary to give minute details of the form and colouring of this lively little bird, so familiar to all; nor is it needful that we

*See Griffith's Cuvier.

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BLACK-AND-WHITE WATER-WAGTAIL.

should say much to recommend it to the favour of our readers, for it comes to us with the primroses and violets, and is one of the many pleasant harbingers of the season of sunshine and flowers.

THE BLACK-AND-WHITE WATER-WAGTAIL.

The children's shouts of glee

Were heard on the daisied green,
When the ebony and ivory

Of thy glossy plumes were seen.

Like thine their joyous bound,

And the bright, quick glancing eye,
And bird-like voices, of silver sound,
Were hailing thee merrily.

Still, gently as breeze-borne flowers,
Thou art flitting across the lawn ;

But the playmates of former hours,

Where are they with their light steps gone?

Thou art here, the same gay creature,

But they, on the wide world thrown,

Are changed in form and feature,

And with voices of deeper tone.

Still thy visits their bright looks bring,
And our prayers ascend the while,
That the Guide of thy feeble wing,

On the children's path may smile.

L.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Common Chimney-Swallow.

Hirundo Rustica.

Or the swallow and its habits so much has been said and written, that it seems scarcely necessary to do more than mention its name, to bring before our readers the remembrance of its peculiarities. Its social habits in building within the walls of our chimnies, its summer sojourn in our island, the autumnal congregating of its tribes, holding council on the approaching voyage, and the distant journies over pathless wastes and wide-extended waters, that follow, all these particulars are well known. It is no longer a matter of debate whether they emigrate from this country;

"Or if, as colder breezes blow,

Prophetic of the waning year,

They hide, tho' none know where or how,
In the cliff's excavated brow,

And linger torpid there.

Or if, by instinct taught to know
Approaching dearth of insect food,
To isles and willowy aits thy go,
And bending on the pliant bough,
Sink in the dimpling flood.”

*Charlotte Smith.

So difficult, however, has it proved to ascertain the fact of their emigration, that even the acute and observant White, who is so rarely mistaken in a point of this sort, was led, by various circumstances which fell under his own notice, to favour the opinions alluded to in the preceding stanzas, which we have quoted from the pages of a writer cotemporary with the naturalist of Selborne. The investigations of succeeding naturalists have put the matter beyond a doubt; and it is now universally admitted, that, though some individuals may remain in this country, the great body of swallows migrate. As the flight takes place in the night, when the prevailing darkness protects them from many dangers to which they would be exposed by day, we can only watch the preparatory movements. These are truly curious and interesting; and from no spot, with which we are acquainted, can they be seen to greater advantage than in that pleasant woodland village of Selborne, where the amiable historian of his native valley was wont to observe their movements, watching their departure and return with the enquiring eye of the philosopher, and the enthusiasm of the poet. But in all places it is delightful to go forth while the woods are still arrayed in the varied livery of autumn, leaves of all hues, and watch

the assembling of these wonderful birds, flitting over our heads in airy circles and countless numbers. The migration of the swallow seems to have been noticed in almost all ages and countries. It is alluded to by the prophet Jeremiah: "the turtle and the crane and the swallow, observe the time of their coming." The poets of Greece and Rome have celebrated the arrival of this social bird in melodious strains, blending with its natural history many an imaginary circumstance and fanciful legend. The purity of its appearance, its graceful and rapid flight, its continuing long on the wing, and never resting on earth, has invested it with a character which speaks to the reflecting mind of a purer world; and renders it a fit emblem of the life of a Christian not chained to earth, though seeking on its surface the daily supply of daily wants.

We have spoken of its departure, which foretells approaching glooms and stormy skies; but the time of its re-appearance is a season of joy and rejoicing. When the trees are unfolding their leaves, and the endless profusion of wildflowers begins again to gladden our eyes in the woods and fields, then do we look out for the swallow; especially from about the eighth or tenth of April, to the fourteenth or sixteenth, we are making enquiry after the expected visitant. If we