in a bush or along a hedge more like mice than birds. A gentleman, who, like myself, is fond of observing the habits of birds, on visiting one day a cottage in his neighbourhood, was told by some children of a wren's nest in a low hedge near the cottage. Wishing to have it left unmolested, he promised the children that if they would take care of it he would give them a reward. On visiting the nest a short time afterwards, he found that the usual hole of the nest had been stopped up, and immediately accused the children of having broken their promise not to touch the nest. They protested that they had never once meddled with it, or disturbed the old bird, but acknowledged that they had frequently looked at it. On examining the nest more attentively, it was found that the original hole of entrance to it had been stopped up, and that another had been made at the back part. It was evident that the bird, disliking to be looked at, and feeling unwilling to forsake her eggs, had taken this method of obviating the inconvenience to which she was subjected. This little anecdote affords another proof of the sagacity and foresight of animals.

The Water-crake (Rallus Porzana), is sometimes found in the meadows I have been referring to. It is, however, a scarce bird with us, and is exceedingly shy and solitary. It is said to form a buoyant nest, which rises and falls with the water,

and is moored to the stalk of a reed or bull-rush. It shews great ingenuity and perseverance in avoiding dogs, running and skulking among high grass and rushes, so that it is difficult to get it on the wing. The young ones, both of this bird and the water-hen, do not appear to require the care of the mother for any length of time, as they soon leave her.

It was on my return from a walk in these meadows that I had an opportunity of observing the almost total loss of the power of self-preservation in a rabbit, which was pursued by two weazels. It appeared to lose that activity and cunning which I have so often observed in it when pursued by dogs. It will then steal from break to break, stand on its hind legs, listening to every sound, and will, when necessary, creep into a hole. In the present instance, however, all its faculties appeared to be paralyzed while the weazles were in pursuit. It bounded about in a sort of circle, shrieking with terror, and seemingly incapable of getting away from its enemies, who would soon have destroyed it had it not been for my interference. Its hole is always avoided by a rabbit when pursued by weazles. I have been assured that weazles have been known to hunt hares and rabbits in small packs, and have myself had opportunities of observing that they hunt by the scent.

It has always struck me as a curious fact, that during my walks I have but very rarely met with a dead bird. When we consider the countless myriads of birds of various kinds, and how few of them, comparatively speaking, are killed by man, or taken alive, it becomes a matter of curious enquiry what becomes of the vast remainder. It may be thought that when disease or old age overtakes them, they get into holes and hedges and die. But whoever found any in such places? Or it may be said that vermin devour great numbers, and that many destroy each other; but how seldom is the skeleton or the remnant feathers of a dead bird seen compared with the multitudes whose existence is not ended untimely. I should be grateful to any one who would at all lessen my curiosity, by throwing any light on the subject.

'So work the honey bees :

'Creatures that, by a rule of nature, teach
'The art of order to a peopled kingdom.'

SHAKESPEARE'S HENRY IV.

THE lower orders of people in this and some other places have curious superstitions respecting bees. A poor old widow once complained to me that all her stocks had died, and on enquiring the cause, she informed me that on the death of her husband a short time before, she had neglected to tap at each of the hives to inform the bees of the circumstance. In consequence of this omission they had been gradually getting weaker and weaker, and that now she had not one left. This may appear a solitary instance of superstition, but it is by no means the case, and I believe it will be found that very generally on the death of a cottager who has kept bees, some ceremonious observance takes place. Mr. Loudon mentions that when he was in Bedfordshire, he was informed of an old man who sang a psalm in front of some hives which were not doing well, but which he said would thrive in consequence of that ceremony. This may be a local or individual superstition, but the announcement to the bees of the death of the owner is certainly a more general one. A corres

pondent of Mr. Loudon's mentions, that in Norfolk, at places where bees are kept, it is peremptory, in case of the death of any of the family to put the bees in mourning, or the consequence would be that all of them would die. The person who made the assertion mentioned a case in point, where, from the neglect of the custom, every bee in the apiary had perished. The method of putting them in mourning is by attaching a piece of black cloth to each of the hives. Another correspondent also says, that in the neighbourhood of Coyentry, in the event of the death of any of the family, it is considered necessary to inform the bees of the circumstance, otherwise they will dwindle and die. The manner of communicating the intelligence to the little community, is with due form and ceremony to take the key of the house, and knock with it three times against the hive, informing the inmates, at the same time, that their master or mistress, as the case may be, is dead. A similar custom prevails in Kent, and in some places it is considered expedient to communicate any great event that may take place to these industrious insects. The use of a key seems necessary in another ceremony which takes place in regard to bees. When a swarm has quitted one of my hives, I always observe that a key is used to induce it to settle, by striking it against a fryingpan, and I should feel some regret if this good old