morning, the absence of care, the solitude in which I find myself, all these have for me inexpressible charms. The mixture of light and air which is diffused around us, influences the whole system of nature, and thus produces the beauty of some things and the magnificence of others, affording inexhaustible matter for devotion and contemplation both to the Christian and the naturalist.

The hurried and what have been called 'imitative' notes, which I hear near me, are those of the reedwarbler or sedge bird.* It may be heard nearly all night long in the willow aytes on the Thames. The nest is curious, and well adapted to the situation in which it is placed, which is amongst reeds and sedges or very young and pliable willow shoots. Three stems, forming a triangle, are generally selected for the support of the nest, which is formed of dry grass, strengthened with the fibres of plants; these are twisted and bent in such a manner round the stems which support it, as to acquire considerable strength; and yet are so entwined with the sedges and willows, as to yield to every breath of wind, or any unusual current of water. The nest being thus liable to be agitated, the eggs would roll out if the bird had not the precaution to make it of a more than common depth. I have one of these nests now by me, and it is impossible not to admire its structure and

* Motacilla Salicaria.

wonderful adaptation to the situation in which it is found. The bird has a fine variety of notes, but I do not think that they are imitative, as is supposed by Mr. White.

The white-throat (Motacilla Sylvia), is a bird of the same genus, although its habits are very dissimilar. Its note has been designated as harsh and unpleasing, but I cannot help thinking it forms a pleasing variety amongst our songsters. This bird imitates, as I have frequently observed, the notes of the swallow and sparrow ;-*

"The sporting white-throat on some twig's end borne,
'Pours hymns to freedom and the rising morn.'

Amongst the variety of birds, however, which I hear around me, there is not one which gives me so much pleasure as the black cap (Motacilla Atricapilla). It is now singing in good earnest, and nothing can be sweeter than its melody. Its notes, previous to the arrival of the female (for the male is the first to migrate), are very different from what they are after she has paired with him. Before that period, the male exerts all the powers of his song as if to invite her to join him. This has been called the 'love laboured song.' After the pairing has taken place, the male does not sing as before, nor is his voice heard so frequently or so loud. While the female is searching for a

* I have also remarked that the imitative notes are always the commencement of the song.

place in which to build her nest, the notes of the male are peculiarly soft. When the young are hatched, his song entirely ceases, as, if it were continued, it might expose them to the danger of being discovered; and besides his time is employed in procuring food for them. If, however, there should be a second brood, his notes are again heard. It has been supposed, that if a bird which had been confined, and had learned the song of another, without retaining any of his original notes, were to be set at liberty, he would not be able to find a mate; in short, that it would not be possible for him to make himself understood, although paying his addresses to one of his own species. Colonel Montagu says, that he has never been able to discover the parent birds giving their young a musical lesson; and he questions, whether the late brood of many species, ever heard the song of their parents till the ensuing spring. I once, however, took a very young sky-lark from the nest, and reared it, and it never heard but one tune, which I whistled to it several times a day. This tune, when I listened attentively, I could distinctly hear it inwardly whistle, or, in the language of bird-fanciers, record it. It seems difficult, therefore, to suppose that birds in a wild state do not imitate the notes they hear. If a bird heard none, he would not, I think, be able to sing at all. While, reclining in

perfect stillness, I am listening to the various notes around me, the red-breast, another of the Motacilla tribe, influenced apparently by curiosity, comes closer to me than any other bird. The cock red-breast is very gallant, and feeds his hen as they hop about together, the latter receiving his bounty with great pleasure, shivering her wings and expressing much complacency.

Though I cannot say that

'The twittering swallow skims the dimpled lake,'

yet it is continually flitting past me as it hawks for flies, sometimes lightly touching the water, and then, describing one of its rapid and elegant circles on its banks. I delight in the swallow. Its appearance tells me that fine weather is approaching, and there is an apparent hilarity and independence in its motions which I always admire:

'The swallow for a moment seen,

'Skims in haste the village green.'

Sir Humphrey Davy has recorded his admiration of this bird in language almost poetical. The swallow,' he says,' is one of my favourite birds, and a 'rival of the nightingale, for he cheers my sense of

seeing as much as the other does my sense of

hearing. He is the glad prophet of the year-the 'harbinger of the best season-he lives a life of en'joyment amongst the loveliest forms of nature— 'winter is unknown to him; and he leaves the 'green meadows of England in autumn for the

'myrtle and orange groves of Italy, and for the 'palms of Africa; he has always objects of pur'suit, and his success is secure. Even the beings 'selected for his prey are poetical, beautiful and 'transient. The ephemeræ are saved by his 'means from a slow and lingering death in the ' evening, and killed in a moment when they have 'known nothing but pleasure. He is the constant 'destroyer of insects, the friend of man, and may 'be regarded as a sacred bird. His instinct, which 'gives him his appointed season, and teaches him 'when and where to move, may be regarded as 'flowing from a divine source; and he belongs to 'the oracles of nature, which speak the awful and 'intelligible language of a present deity.'

The swallow tribe appear full as soon in the midland counties as in the maritime, a circumstance which Mr. White thinks is more favourable to hiding than migration. They fly, however, with so much rapidity, and probably in so unerring a line, that the small space which intervenes between a midland and maritime situation in this island can make but little perceptible difference in the times of their appearance.

Martins, in addition to the nests in which they lay their eggs, build near them the apparent foundations of several others. On one of these the male roosts while the female is sitting, and they both sometimes rest on them in the day time.