tibility of injury in their eggs and young, but their particular locality with reference to climate, and to the living creatures which exist in their neighborhood. I have already noticed a remarkable instance of this latter kind of adaptation, in the different kinds of nests formed by the woodpeckers of Europe and of America; and I think the reader will join me in a similar observation with regard to the swallows of India, as compared with their congeners in our own quarter of the world. Here this tribe are strikingly familiar with their fellow-inhabitants of the human race. There is nothing in the materials of their nests which man can covet, and they therefore freely throw themselves on the protection of that lord of the creation. But it is very different in the Indian Archipelago. There, from some peculiarity with which we are not acquainted, the swallows are made to build their "procreant" cradles of materials which man eagerly covets as food; and, therefore, these little tenants of the air are taught to retire to deep and dangerous caverns, which their wings enable them easily to penetrate; but where nothing but a morbid and pampered appetite could induce man to pursue them.

SEVENTH WEEK-TUESDAY.

BIRDS.-HATCHING OF EGGS, AND REARING THE BROOD.

WHEN the nest is prepared, the bird is instructed, by Him who has so mysteriously provided for the mortal beings He has created, to lay that number of eggs which she can safely rear, or which, in His infinite wisdom, He finds best calculated for preserving the balance of living beings. I have already observed, that there is in this, as in other departments of Nature, a distinct evidence of beneficent contrivance in the general law which regulates the number of eggs hatched by each species; inasmuch as, that birds of prey, which are intended to restrain within certain bounds, but not to exterminate, the smaller

tribes, produce very few; while the other orders, in proportion to their helplessness and liability to destruction, produce a more numerous progeny. It is curious to observe the instinct which regulates this. The bird, by its natural constitution, is capable of laying many more eggs than she actually produces in one season; but, as soon as she finds her nest sufficiently replenished, she desists from laying, of her own accord, and by an apparently voluntary act. The domestic fowl is a familiar example of this. Although she is capable of producing eggs through the greater part of the year, yet, if her nest be left undisturbed, she will refrain from laying, and begin to brood, as soon as she finds that she has laid as many as the heat of her body can easily warm. That this is the case with birds also, I remember having myself, when a schoolboy, proved by an experiment. Having found the nest of a yellow-hammer, I carefully abstracted one of the three eggs which it contained, when the bird did not appear to be within observation, and, next day, was delighted to find another laid in its stead. This also I abstracted; and, day after day, I continued to do the same thing, till I was in possession of fifteen eggs. The bird then deserted her nest, having laid three times the number of eggs she would have done had I not been guilty of this cruel depredation.

The anxious care, and patient endurance, with which the duty of incubation is performed, is worthy of the highest admiration. "Nothing," says Goldsmith, "can exceed the patience of birds while hatching; neither the calls of hunger, nor the near approach of danger, can drive them from their nest. They are often fat upon beginning to sit, yet, before incubation is over, the female is usually wasted to skin and bone. Ravens and crows, while the females are sitting, take care to provide them with food, and this in great abundance; but it is different with most of the smaller kinds. During the whole time, the male sits near his mate, upon some tree, and soothes her by his singing; and often, when she is tired, takes her place, and patiently continues upon the nest till she returns."

Addison, in his own elegant language, thus speaks of the instinct of the domestic fowl: "With what caution does the hen provide herself with a nest in places unfrequented, and free from noise and disturbance! When she has laid her eggs in such a manner, that she can cover them, what care does she take in turning them frequently, that all parts may partake of the vital warmth? When she leaves them, to provide for her necessary subsistence, how punctually does she return, before they have time to cool, and become incapable of producing an animal! In summer, you see her giving herself greater freedoms, and quitting her care for above two hours together; but in winter, when the rigor of the season would chill the principle of life, and destroy the young one, she grows more assiduous in her attendance, and stays away but half the time. When the birth approaches, with how much nicety and attention does she help the chick to break the prison !*—not to take notice of her covering it from the injuries of the weather, providing it with proper nourishment, and teaching it to help itself; nor to mention her forsaking the nest, if, after the usual time of reckoning, the young one does not make its appearance. A chemical operation could not be followed with greater art or diligence, than is seen in the hatching of a chick, though there are many birds that show an infinitely greater sagacity; yet, at the same time, the hen, that has all this seeming ingenuity, (which is, indeed, absolutely necessary for the propagation of the species,) considered in other respects, is without the least glimmerings of thought or common sense. She mistakes a piece of chalk for an egg, and sits upon it in the same manner; she is insensible of any increase or diminution in the number of those she lays; she does not distinguish between her own and those of another species, and, when the birth appears of never so different a bird, will cherish it for her own. A hen, followed by a brood of ducks, shall stand affrighted

* Addison has here fallen into the error of the earlier naturalists, that the chipping of the egg was the act of the mother; he has also com mitted another error, in saying that the bird frequently turns her eggs; but his general reasoning is not affected by these mistakes.

at the edge of the pond, trembling for the fate of her young, which she sees venturing into so dangerous an element. As the different principle which acts in these different animals, cannot be called reason, so, when we call it instinct, we mean something we have no knowledge of. It appears to me the immediate direction of Providence ; and such an operation of the Supreme Being, as that which determines all the portions of matter to their proper centres."

The following just observations, from the Journal of a Naturalist,' suggested by the maternal instincts of the missel-thrush, shall close this paper. "The extraordinary change of character which many creatures exhibit, from timidity to boldness and rage, from stupidity to art and stratagem, for the preservation of a helpless offspring, seems to be an established ordination of Providence, actuating, in various degrees, most of the races of animated beings; and we have few examples of this influencing principle more obvious than this of the missel bird, in which a creature addicted to solitude and silence, will abandon its haunts, and associate with those it fears,* to preserve its offspring from an enemy more merciless and predaceous still. The love of offspring,-one of the strongest impressions given to created beings, and inseparable from their nature,—is ordained by the Almighty as the means of preservation under helplessness and want. Dependent, totally dependent, as is the creature for every thing that can contribute to existence and support, upon the great Creator of all things, so are newborn feebleness and blindness dependent upon the parent that produced them; and to the latter is given intensity of love, to overbalance the privations and sufferings required from it. This love, that changes the nature of the timid and gentle to boldness and fury, exposes the parent to injury and death, from which its wiles and cautions do not always secure it; and in man, the avarice

*It had been previously observed that this bird, to avoid the depredations of the crow and magpie, frequents our gardens and orchards during the breeding season, seeking protection from man, near whose haunts these rapacious plunderers are wary of approaching.

of possession will at times subdue his merciful and better feelings.

"Beautifully imbued with celestial justice and humanity, as all the ordinances which the Israelites received in the wilderness were, there is nothing more impressive, nothing more accordant with the divinity of their nature, than the particular injunctions which were given in respect to showing mercy to the maternal creature cherishing its young, when, by reason of its parental regard, it might be placed in danger. The eggs, the offspring, were allowed to be taken; but, thou shalt in any wise let the dam go,' *thou shalt not, in one day, take both a ewe and her young,'-the ardent affection, the tenderness with which I have filled the parent, is in no way to lead to its injury or destruction. And this is enforced, not by command only, not by the threat of punishment and privation, but by the assurance of temporal reward, by promise of the greatest blessings that can be found on earth,-length of days and prosperity."

* I have already mentioned one of my schoolboy experiments. Here is another, much less justifiable, and attended with a more distressing result, which strikingly illustrates the benevolence of the Divine command alluded to in the text, and the cruelty of neglecting it. I took a brood of young chaffinches in the nest, and, having placed them in a cage, in a room, near an open window, their cries drew both the male and female to their aid. Laying aside their usual timidity, the affectionate birds flew in at the window, and rested on the cage. At that moment, by drawing a string, I suddenly closed the window, and thus made both parents prisoners. My object was to get them to feed their young, with food regularly supplied to them by myself, and thus to provide for the proper rearing of the tender brood. The experiment altogether failed, and I suffered the reward of my treachery. The parent birds were enclosed in the same cage with their offspring, along with abundance of meat; but next day all the young ones, with their mother, were lying wounded and dead at the bottom of the cage. The high-spirited male preferred the death of his family to their captivity. He would probably have immolated himself also on the shrine of freedom, as he refused to eat, but I was too much shocked by the catastrophe to carry the unhappy experiment further. The bird regained his liberty, and flew, lonely, and uttering plaintive cries, to his native grove.