up and delivered to a market-woman, who had witnessed the battle, and who promised to nurse it till it was recovered. In the mean time the two antagonists had separated, the magpie "loud clamouring at the wrong," and abusing the crow in terms which it was impossible not to understand.

The carrion crow is no favourite of mine, and is in fact a decided thief and pilferer. He has been seen to steal an egg from a hen's nest near a farm-yard, and, having perforated it with his beak, carry it to his own nest at a considerable distance. The rook on the contrary is a friend to agriculturists, and no farmer, who considers his own interest will destroy a rookery. I once knew this done, in compliance with the request of many farmers, who, two years afterwards were desirous that it should be restored; the wire-worms, cockchaffer, grubs, and other destructive insects, having greatly increased within that period. In order to be convinced that these birds are beneficial to the farmer, let him observe the same field in which his ploughman and his sower are at work. He will see the former followed by a train of rooks, while the sower will be unattended, and his grain remain untouched.

I had an opportunity of witnessing an instance of affection in birds of the same species this summer (1832), in Richmond Park. The person

who keeps the lodge leading into the grounds of the Earl of Erroll in Richmond Park, had put a very young black-bird into a cage which was hung up under the porch of the lodge. After the bird had become reconciled to its confinement, and had begun to feed itself, an older black-bird was caught and put into the same cage with the other. This bird moped and refused to feed itself, and would probably have died, had not the younger bird brought it food in its bill, and in every respect treated it as if it had been its mother, nourishing it with the greatest perseverance for some time. Both birds are still companions in the same cage, and I also heard them both inwardly singing, or recording, about six weeks after their having been confined together.

The propensity which the raven has to hide things, is one of the peculiarities of its character. Many persons must recollect a raven, which used to hop about amongst the workmen employed in the construction of the bridge, at the top of the Serpentine river in Hyde Park. This bird, from its familiarity and odd habits, attracted at the time the notice of many persons, and amongst others that of a friend of mine. He constantly noticed and made many enquiries respecting it. It was taken from a nest on the top of an elm tree in Hyde Park, with 2ND. SERIES.

D

two or three others, all of which died. The one in question, however, survived, and became perfectly tame and sociable. It haunted the spot I have mentioned, and would sometimes take long flights and be absent some days, but always returned to the bridge. One day a lady was passing over it, and dropped a valuable bracelet. She turned round to pick it up, but before she could do so, the raven had seized and immediately flew away with it out of sight. It was conjectured that he had a hiding place in some distant tree, where probably, at some future time, the bracelet and other things may be found. The fate of this raven was a melancholy one. He was stolen, and was not heard of for a long time. At last, however, he returned, and one of his wings was cut. He was unable therefore to resume his former habits, and moped about, and one morning he was found dead in the Serpentine river, to the great regret of many of his admirers.

The raven is supposed to be a very long-lived bird. Horace notices this, and also its augury of rain;

" aquæ nisi fallit augur,

'Annosa Cornix.'

Perhaps one of the signs it gave was the shaking its wings in some peculiar manner,

'Corvi-quatientes alas frequenter

or by its voice

gutture corvi.'

VIRGIL.

The raven has been considered with a superstitious feeling both by antients and moderns.

Mr. White says that ravens, in their common mode of flying, have a peculiarity attending them not unworthy of notice. They turn over in the air quite on their backs, and that not now and then, but frequently, often two or three hundred yards. When this odd attitude betimes them, they fall down several fathoms, uttering a loud croak, and then right themselves again. This strange vacillation seems to be owing to their scratching when bitten by vermin; the thrusting out their leg to do this destroys their equipoize, and throws their wings out of the true centre of gravity. Ravens spend their leisure time over some hanging wood in a sort of mock fight, dashing and diving at each other continually, while their loud croakings make the woody steeps reecho again.

In a very mild season, magpies will begin building in December, but cease their process of nidification as soon as the weather becomes severe. If the ovarium is so far advanced as to remind the bird that it is time to prepare a place in which to deposit its eggs, it seems to have the power of retarding the further growth of the egg, until the

proper season for laying is arrived. This appears to me a curious and interesting subject for investigation. Mr. White has remarked the fact of magpies perching on the backs of sheep in order to pick out the maggots and ticks from their wool. He adds, that they even mount on their very heads, while the meek quadrupeds seem pleased, and stand perfectly still, little aware that their eyes are in no small danger, and that their assiduous friends would be glad of an opportunity of picking their bones.

The breeding of woodcocks in this country was formerly considered as a circumstance that seldom happened, and indeed by some was altogether denied. So far, however, from its being a rare occurrence, they breed in some places very freely, of which I have been able to collect a few particulars. A gentleman, whose veracity cannot be disputed, assured me that several woodcocks bred every year in his woods, some of which adjoin Woolmer Forest in Hampshire. On my expressing some surprize at this, he said that he had offered a considerable bet that there should not be a day named in the course of the year, in which he would not produce a couple of woodcocks at his table, on receiving a short previous notice. He informed me that he always makes a point of having some on the