was wanted to render this sylvan assembly perfect but the presence of the brightest part of the creation, until whose appearance even paradise was incomplete. To me it was all fairy-land; nor did the darkness of the night diminish the splendour of the scene: the blaze of the fires glittering on the rows of bayonets, and the hum of the thousands around me, all combined to enchant my senses, which were feasting on the new views I now enjoyed of human nature, and on which I could for ever dwell-all around appeared animated ON THE PLUMAGE, NEST, AND EGGS OF THE LONGTAILED TITMOUSE (PARUS CAUDATUS.) In all the best, or at least most modern works upon Ornithology with which I am acquainted,-those of Mons. Temminck, of Selby, Fleming, Mudie, and Alphabet Rennie, to wit,—there are sundry grave and flagrant errors in the portraiture of that elegant and notable little bird, vulgarly 'yclept the bottle-tit, of which I, albeit naturally very shy, and quite a novice in the business of writing, have long been plucking up courage to essay the correction. The head of the little creature in question, is described, by all these learned scribes, as white: Temminck even has it, pure-white; and the back and scapulars (Selby, "Illustrations of British Ornithology," page 234; Fleming, "History of British Animals," p. 81; and Mudie, “British Naturalist," vol. ii. p. 317) rose-red. Now to my sober, and mayhap vulgar, organs of sight, nothing can be more like unto gray, than the hue of the former; nothing more nearly akin to pale-chesnut, than that of the latter. With laudable pains-taking to get at the truth, I have examined divers specimens from diverse parts of the country (two are, at this moment, on the table before me); and asked the opinions of sundry persons more knowing than myself in these matters. The response has invariably been, "grey and pale-chesnut, beyond all contradiction, as plain as the nose in one's face." Now for the nest. Selby, in speaking of this most curious and wonderful structure, says that "a small hole is left on two opposite sides of the nest, not only for ingress and egress, but also to prevent the bird, during incubation, from being incommoded by its long tail, which then projects through one of the orifices." "Illustrations," p. 234: and Fleming (page already quoted), and Mudie, likewise, testify as to the existence of two openings in the nest of the bottle-tit. In my younger days, when my optics were more prying, and, alas! a great deal keener-sighted than they now are, and even within the few years last past, have I repeatedly scrutinized the "domed nest," as Rennie has it, of the long-tailed architect; yet never, for the life of me, could I descry any trace of the postern vent, or tail-hole, with which these good-natured and cunning men have, in their wisdom, so providently furnished it. And, in good truth, one cannot help being a trifle sceptical, or so, as to the main use which Selby and copyists knowingly assign to said vent-hole, even if, in reality, it existed. When the ordinary distance of such orifice from the bottom of the nest is duly scanned, one cannot but surmize that little Mistress bottletit, with her tail-piece sticking out of the attic window, and her head and body in the ground-floor of the tenement, would have, during her long lying-in, rather a sorry time of it. The truth of the matter is, I opine, nothing more nor less than this: when father and mother are nestling together, the gentleman, with more worldly wisdom than politeness, like a supernumerary beggar in a "spare bed," accommodates himself in the best possible manner, to the lack of room, by squatting with his hinder parts (I crave pardon, his caudal extremity, I should have said) in close acquaintance with his partner's pate. In such homely fashion, I have, on sundry occasions, seen the long tail of one of the proprietors poking out from the nest of the bottle-tit. Selby writes that the eggs of this little creature are ten or twelve,-Fleming, nine to twelve in number. Temminck ("Manuel d'Ornithologie," p. 297) represents them as amounting to fifteen. Montagu ("Ornithological Dictionary," by Rennie, p. 52) has heard of more than twenty being discovered; but never saw more than twelve. Knapp (" Journal of a Naturalist,” third edition, p. 165) "remembers finding fourteen or sixteen pea-like eggs," in little long-tail's nest "and many more were reported to have been found." Mudie ("British Naturalist," v. ii. p. 317) merely mentions that the eggs are numerous. In by-gone days, I have repeatedly counted fifteen eggs; once or twice, eighteen; and, on one occasion, nineteen, in what was then familiarly called, by Warwickshire boors, the Jug's nest. Alas! poor Montagu! What a most woeful figure does his、 Ornithological Dictionary (excellent for the days wherein it was written) cut in the claws of the rapacious Butcher-bird (Lanius prædatorius, haud equidem frugilegus*-I am but a sorry Latin scholar forsooth), of King's College. Yet the hapless Colonel does not stand alone in his misfortunes. Let us glance around; and we shall verily, on all sides, behold birds of every tribe and *Most of my readers are, probably, aware that the common rook has been named, by Linnæus, Corvus frugilegus. Now this said Latin term, frugilegus, means, in plain English, corn-gathering: and, as a specific designation, is not mightily applicable to the rook, rather a general feeder, and not over-nice respecting the quality, if the quantity of victuals be enough. Professor Rennie, aware of the impropriety of the term, proposes to substitute for it the epithet prædatoridus (vide "Ornithological Dictionary," Introduction, p. vi.) But this does not mend the matter one whit; for are not the raven, the carrion-crow, and the “lawyer jack-daw," as much given to prey as their cousin, the rook? Is it not invidious, or does it not, in fact, savour of libel, to specially stigmatize, as a plunderer, one member of the crow family, or, in truth, any other family, when all are thieves alike. In my humble opinion, moreover, the distinctive (or specific, as they are scientifically named,) titles of animals should be derived, not from their habits, which are liable to change with the circumstances wherein they are placed; but from some notable and unchanging peculiarity of external structure or character. The "conveyancer rook" is mainly distinguished from its next-door neighbour, (" counsellor crow," by having the base of the bill white, scurfy, and bare of feathers,— a condition probably intended to facilitate the operations of the bird in grubbing for the larvae of the cock-chaffer, which lie deep in the ground; and among which, like the portly alderman, feasting on oysters, it makes, during the year, terrible havoc. Why, therefore, not distinguish the rook from its congeners by the title, barebeaked? aye, Corvus nudirostris, just the thing! or, if you would fain have it from a more learned source, here it is ready for you, in what Dr. Parr would have facetiously called a very fair specimen of "Brummagem Greek," Corvus gymnorynchus (yvuvos, bare or naked, puyxos, beak),—the bare-faced crow. trade,-land-fowl, waders, and swimmers, carpenters, masons, miners, weavers, and tailors,* to boot,-insects and their larvæ, most piteously impaled, like the relics of poor Montagu, upon the thorn of this literary shrike; and unmercifully mangled by his beak and talons. Neither the exalted character of the immortal Swede, nor the profound quinary system of the luminous Mister Mac Leay, nor the order Lepidoptera, of the orderly Mister Stephens, albeit fenced round on all sides, by the formidable mihi (O mihi, Beate Martin!), nor even the floating nest of the humble dobchick,-nothing in air, in earth, or in water,—can be safe from the attacks of this northern bird of rapine,—this kingbird of the Omnivori, happily "new to the British Fauna.”+ My friend, Mr. Gould, of the Zoological Society of London, is bringing out a first-rate work upon European Ornithology ;‡ which will, I would fain hope, set all disputed matters on the subject finally at rest, and restore to their right position the heads of birds (and the craniad, by the bye, of certain wrongheaded Professors), which have been woefully turned in the celebrated Ornithological Dictionary of British Birds (see page 35, article, Sinciput.)§ And what, in the name of common sense, and the King's College, could an Ornithological Dictionary have treated of, save Birds? To conclude, the dark-the iron-ages of Ornithology, Bewick, by his spirited doings upon the block (no lack of respect to the memory of that highly-endowed and pains-taking man), hath since ushered in the wooden-and Rennie, still more lately, the brazen age; but the duration of the latter will be brief; its days are numbered: for (prithee, forgive, O gentle reader, the miserable pun) the golden age of Ornithology, is, at last, dawning upon us. Sept. 19th, 1834. * Vide Rennie's "Architecture of Birds," Contents. SENEX. † Vide Rennie's "Conspectus of Butterflies and Moths,” page vi. : manifestly borrowed from the hive of Mr. Mihi Stephens-wax, honey, grubs, and all. "The Birds of Europe," by J. Gould. Nine parts of this splendid work have already appeared. The author, evidently a Falco, of the golden eagle kind, has taken wing nobly; soars far above all his European competitors; and leaves even the American Audubon himself at a goodly distance below. § Sinciput, in our schoolboy days, was wont to be rendered forehead. Things are wonderfully changed since then. Steam, gas, and the "schoolmaster" have verily turned the heads, not only of men, but of birds also: since it is stated on the high authority of James Rennie, Professor of King's College, that the sinciput of birds is now actually where the occiput used to be. And is this the learned scribe, who hath presumed to quiz the Latinity of Naturalists? Vide "Conspectus of Butterflies," p. vii. After all, we suspect that he really belongs to the Crow family, and may correctly be referred to the bare-faced species. I, Rosa, purpurei flos jucundissime prati, Quam grata et candens est ea visa mihi. Nil valet omninò tucem male passa venustas ; Quam petit omnis Amor virgo patiatur Amorem Tum morere; ut rerum videat communia fata Eheu! quàm minimum præbetur temporis illis Sed quamois monaie, tuis post fata peracta Temnere sic discat pietatem Temporis arma- GODFREY GRAFTON. This last most exquisite stanza was found written in pencil, in a volume of Waller's Poems, lent by a friend to the unfortunate Kirke White. |