who would not marry again, for, as they believed, that bird, when it loses its mate, will take no other.

Jupiter, in his infancy, was said to have been fed with ambrosia by wild pigeons, whence they were made harbingers of summer, whose approach they announce by their agreeable cooing among the woods.

According to the classic mythology, two pigeons, which Jupiter had endowed with speech and given to his daughter Thebe, took flight from Egypt: one stopped in Lybia, the other went on to Dodona in Epirus, and alighting there, informed the people that it was the will of Jupiter to have an oracle in that place. An oracle was accordingly founded, and became one of the most celebrated in Greece. The story has been thus explained. Some Phoenician merchants carried away captives two priestesses from Thebes in Egypt; one of them was sold in Lybia, and the other at Dodona, where she caused a small temple to be erected among the ancient oaks in honour of Jupiter (whose priestess she had been in Egypt), and instituted the oracle. The people of the country not understanding her language when she first arrived, said she uttered sounds as unintelligible as cooings, and called her "The Pigeon." Afterwards, when she had learned to speak the Greek tongue plainly, they said the pigeon spoke.

The Greeks fabled that Venus and Cupid having laid a wager which could gather most flowers within a certain time, a nymph called Peristera helped Venus, who thus won the stake, and Cupid was so incensed, that he turned the officious assistant into a pigeon, a play upon the word, which in Greek is Peristera, the nymph's name.

At Eryx, in Sicily, the ancient inhabitants used to observe a time which they called "The Departure," when they said their goddess was departing into Africa, and all the doves and pigeons disappeared, as if to accompany her. After the lapse of nine days, a single pigeon was seen to fly across the sea, like a harbinger, and light upon the Temple, and all the rest soon followed. Then the people celebrated a joyous festival, which they termed "The Return.”

Anius, King of Delos, had three daughters, to whom Bacchus gave the power of transmuting everything they touched into wine, corn, and oil. When Agamemnon was going to the siege of Troy, he took them prisoners, intending to carry them with him, that they might supply his army with provisions; but Bacchus changed them into pigeons, and they flew from Agamemnon's power, and took refuge in the Isle of Andros. Thus has fable altered the features of a simple historical fact. The three daughters of Anius were careful princesses, who took care of the contributions of wine, oil, and corn paid into their father by his subjects. Agamemnon demanded provisions for his troops, and took the ladies as hostages till his demands should be complied with; but they made their escape from him into the Isle of Andros.

Among the ancients the WOODPECKER was dedicated to Mars.

Picus, King of the Latins, before the Trojan War, was said to have been an accomplished and handsome prince, and the enchantress Circe, meeting him when hunting in a wood, became enamoured of him; but finding that he would not, for her sake, desert his beautiful and affectionate wife, Canens, she changed him into a woodpecker. The fable is a play upon words, as Picus means a woodpecker. The transformation

is celebrated by Ovid in his Metamorphoses. It is explained that Picus, who was a great professor of divination, kept a tame woodpecker, that bird being much esteemed by augurs, and used in their rites. Picus having been killed (either accidentally or treasonably) at the chase, and his body not found, he was fabled to have been turned into the bird of his own name.

The brilliant KINGFISHER, whose gorgeous plumage renders him almost too oriental-looking for the banks of our streams, was of old consecrated to Tethys, daughter of Heaven and Earth, and wife of the Ocean; a pretty allegory of the habits of the bird familiar with three elements-flying in the air, building on the ground, and seeking his food in the waters.

Ceyx, King of Thrace, was married to Alcyone, daughter of Eolus, whom he tenderly loved. Being in great affliction for the death of his brother, Deucalion, Ceyx went to consult the oracle at Claros for means to dissipate his melancholy. On his return he was shipwrecked and drowned; his wife, Alcyone, or Halcyone, overwhelmed with despair, threw herself into the sea, and the gods in pity metamorphosed both husband and wife into kingfishers (called also Halcyons), which became thenceforward the emblems of conjugal love. The common term, "Halcyon days," signifying a time of happiness and profound peace, is derived from an old superstition concerning the kingfisher or Halcyon, which was fabled to build its nest on the margin of the sea (some said on the surface of the sea), and during the time of incubation, the gods, from respect to Ceyx and Alcyone, kept the winds and waves lulled into a state of perfect tranquillity. The time called the "Halcyon days" was the seven days before, and the seven days after the winter solstice, generally noted for the calmness of the weather, and popularly called, in some places, "St. Martin's Summer."

Columella gives the name of Halcyon Days to a period beginning with the 8th of the calends of March, during which great stillness was observed to prevail in the Atlantic Ocean. Among other superstitions anciently prevalent concerning the kingfisher, it was believed that when dead its flesh would never corrupt; and that if hung up, its breast would always face the north, by some magnetic quality.

Cicero and the Emperor Gordian wrote Latin poems on the kingfisher, which are not extant; less fortunate in their fame than "The Metamorphosis " which Ovid has left to us on this subject.

Magnificent like the kingfisher, is the larger and more stately PEACOCK, which, however, is more a bird of earth than air-for though it loves to perch on high places, it frequents the ground more than the skies. It was brought originally from India to Persia, and soon found its way into Europe. When Alexander the Great first saw peacocks in India, he was so much struck with their appearance, that he decreed a punishment for all persons who should kill or injure them. On their introduction into Greece, the people paid a fixed price for seeing them, and undertook long journeys to behold the wondrous birds. In ancient Rome, the pleasure their beauty afforded to the eye soon inspired the idea that they would give equal gratification to the palate. Hortensius the Orator was the first who served a peacock up at a feast, and thenceforward it became a fashionable dish among the Romans

On account of its splendour and its stately air, the peacock was dedicated to Juno. This Queen of Olympus, jealous of Jupiter's love for the beautiful Io, transformed the nymph into a heifer, and gave her in charge to Argus, who had a hundred eyes, of which two only slept at a time. Mercury, however, at the desire of Jupiter, lulled all the eyes to sleep by the melody of his lyre, slew the slumberer, and delivered Io. Juno, in order to honour the memory of Argus, placed his eyes on the train of her favourite bird. The peacock is engraved on the coins of Samos, where Juno was especially worshipped.

In ancient sculptures, May personified was represented with a peacock standing beside him; and August was shown with a fan of peacocks' feathers in his hand, because the varied hues of that beautiful bird's plumage were considered figurative of the many and various flowers that adorned these two months.

On Imperial coins of Rome, the peacock typifies the consecration of princesses, as the eagle does that of princes. The peacock was figured above funeral piles, as if to carry the illustrious dead up to heaven.

Admired as the peacock was in ancient Italy, the modern Italians have a proverb concerning it, "that it has the beauty of an angel, the voice of a devil, and the stomach of a thief."

Adramelech, the sun-god of Sepharvaim (a district of Assyria), was represented in the form of a peacock. His votaries made their children pass through the fire in his honour.

The family of Pawne (originally of French extraction) bears in its scutcheon three peacocks with their trains displayed, from the French word paon, a peacock. This kind of blazonry, when the arms are in allusion to the name, is called by English heralds "canting heraldry," and by French heralds "armes parlantes," or speaking arms."

When Henry II. of England nominated his son John (afterwards King) Lord of Ireland, Pope Alexander confirmed the title, and at the same time he sent to the prince a crown of peacocks' feathers; since when it was long accounted unlucky in Ireland to keep peacocks' feathers in the house. But we believe this superstition has become nearly, if not wholly, obsolete.

In the days of chivalry the peacock was in great esteem, and its plumage adorned the head-dress of the noble, the fair, and the valiant : now, by a complete reverse of fortune, the peacock's feather is left to the crazed or the buffoon. Its want of flexibility seems to be the cause of its banishment from modern adornings. Still, though from its stiffness unfit for plumes, we think modern ingenuity might form beautiful trimmings from the different splendid feathers of the Samian bird. The peacock was of old a dish of high honour at the table of nobles. After being roasted, it was served up in its skin, which, unplucked, had been previously removed; its train was affixed, unfolded and erect; its crest elevated, and a sponge dipped in spirits of wine was set on fire, and placed in its bill. It was carried into the banquetting-room by four serving-men, who elevated the dish so as to be seen by all present before it was laid on the table. It was customary for the knights then to make a vow, "before the peacock," to perform some great achievement in honour of their ladies, or of their Sovereign.

VOL. III.

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The PHEASANT received similar knightly honours. But among the ancients it was associated with the tragic story of Itys, who was murdered by his mother, Progne (daughter of Pandion, King of Athens)-boiled and served up to his unsuspecting father, Tereus, King of Thrace, in revenge for the cruelty he, Tereus, had practised on Philomela, his sister-in-law, whose tongue he cut out to prevent her revealing his wickedness. But the injured lady made it known to her sister by means of a piece of embroidery, in which she depicted her story, which incensed Progne to the utmost. When Tereus had eaten, his wife threw the head of Itys upon the table, and announced the terrible fact to the dismayed tyrant. The sun is said to have withdrawn his light, from horror at the scene. The gods transformed Itys into a pheasant, to be admired for its fine plumage; Progne into a swallow, that frequents human dwellings as though in remorseful search for her murdered son; Philomel into a nightingale, indemnified by the gift of song for the former loss of her tongue, and hiding herself from the gazer's eye amid woods and thickets; and Tereus into a hoepoe (sometimes erroneously rendered "lapwing"), a bird whose filthy habits were considered figurative of the morals of the Thracian King.

Though the HOEPOE was thus of bad repute among the Greeks, yet among the ancient Egyptians it was the emblem of gaiety and filial piety, and its head was often represented on Egyptian sceptres, especially on that of Horus, the sun-god; the semicircular erect crest representing a radius, or glory.

Besides the misfortunes of Philomel, the NIGHTINGALE was associated with another melancholy story in classic mythology. Edo, daughter of Pandorus, and wife of Zethus, had but one son, Itylus, while Niobe, the wife of her husband's brother Amphion, had a numerous offspring. Edo, jealous of her sister-in-law on that account, resolved to kill the eldest of Niobe's sons; and as Itylus slept with his cousin, she desired him to change his bed, which the youth forgetting to do, he was slain by his mother in mistake for her nephew. Edo was overwhelmed with grief and despair, and the gods metamorphosed her into a nightingale, to sing the dirge of her child.

Thamyras of Thrace was the most celebrated musician of his era. His poem of "The Wars of the Gods and the Titans," was esteemed superior to all that had been known before it (he preceded Homer), and he was the third person who won the prize of singing at the Pythian games. His fame made him so arrogant, that he challenged the Muses themselves to compete with him. They accepted the challenge, on condition that if he was vanquished he should be at their discretion, to endure what penalty they willed. The Muses gaining the victory, deprived him of sight, voice, reason, and musical skill. He died of grief, and was transformed into the melodious nightingale, gifted with exquisite music to indemnify him for his former sufferings.

Universally admired as is this bird of song, it was once an object of antipathy to an English King. Edward the Confessor, on being solicited for alms, in the absence of his almoner, by an aged pilgrim from Jerusalem, gave to the suppliant a valuable ring. Subsequently this ring was brought back to him by two Englishmen from the Holy Land, to whom it had been delivered by the pilgrim, with the injunction, that on

returning the gift they should inform the King, that the person to whom he had presented it was St. John the Evangelist, in the guise of a pilgrim, and that he (Edward) should die on the 5th of January, 1062. The Confessor upon hearing this, resolved on preparing for his dissolution. He built, in a wooded part of Essex, a retreat, which he called "Have-atte-ye Ring Bower,"* (since abbreviated into "Havering-at Bower), whither he retired for the purpose of meditation and prayer. But he found himself so much disturbed by the singing of the nightingales, that he conceived a dislike to them, and prayed that they might be banished thence; and they were thenceforth no longer heard within the park paling, though resorting in great numbers all round about the immediate vicinity. The adventures of King Edward and his ring are represented in three or four compartments of the frieze over his shrine in Westminster Abbey.

Among the ancient Greeks the LARK, lively and musical as it is, commemorated an undutiful daughter. Nisus, King of Megara, had on his head a lock of hair of a purple hue, on which his destiny depended; for the Fates had decreed that while it remained unshorn he should be prosperous in all things. Minos, King of Crete, going to war with Nisus, besieged Megara, but gained no advantage till Scylla, daughter of Nisus, seeing Minos riding round the walls of the city, fell in love with him, and in order to conciliate his affections, cut off the fateful lock during her father's sleep. Nisus, on perceiving that his ruin was effected, slew himself, and his kingdom was conquered by Minos; but the latter, scorning Scylla on account of her treachery to her parent, she threw herself into the sea in a paroxysm of shame and sorrow, and the Olympic deities changed her into a lark, and Nisus into a hawk, since which time these two birds have been irreconcileable enemies.

Aristophanes, however, in his wild play of "The Birds," gives the lark, on the other hand, a good character for filial piety. He says, "The lark is the oldest of all things, older than the earth. Her father died, there was no earth at the time, and the daughter, not knowing where to find him a grave, buried him in her own head."

Acalet, nephew of the great artificer Daedalus of Athens, invented the saw, which excited the envy of his uncle, who had himself invented the wedge, the wimble, and other implements, besides sails for ships. In his jealous rage, Daedalus threw Acalet from the top of a tower, and the gods transformed him into a PARTRIDGE.

Impudence and Contumely were worshipped at Athens under the form of partridges.

On the other hand, the ancient priests of Egypt represented a happy and well-ordered family by the emblem of two red Egyptian partridges, male and female, brooding side by side, for the male bird aids the female in the task of hatching her eggs.

The QUAIL was sacrificed to Hercules, because when that hero was

* Have-at the ring.

†The nightingales no longer heed King Edward's decree of banishment, and they now sing in the park when it pleases them.

How had the lark a father, if she were the oldest of all things? Is not this a Greek bull, and of the same species as an Irish one?