the fieldfare, with its congener, the redwing; the Royston crow; the wood-pigeon; the pochard; and the occasional visitors, the crossbill and the silktail; or several species of the more rare aquatic wanderers, in the same manner as the sportsman regards the loss of the woodcock, the snipe, the wild-goose, the widgeon, the wild-duck, and that tiny favourite, the teal.

Nor, in all seasons, can he fail to reflect on the causes which influence the migration of his many favourites from country to country. He may not be enabled to comprehend the innate laws by which they are directed, the impulse by which they are guided, and, apparently, the impossible length of flight of the small-winged and comparatively feeble species. But, as no feathered creatures are subject to a state of torpitude, like fishes, reptiles, insects, and amphibiæ, he must arrive at the inevitable conclusion, however mysterious and inexplicable, that not only are trackless oceans crossed with safety, but at the time and with weather, too, the most favourable for the accomplishment of a long and laborious journey; resting himself perfectly satisfied with the conviction that their course is directed and impelled by an Almighty hand, for the fulfilment of benevolent purposes, and in perfect accordance with the objects of unerring wisdom.

Diving into the depths of the harmonious woods, which are about to put on their richest robes of summer, or strolling along the narrow green footways, which go twisting about hither and thither like a brook-stream in search of a peaceful home,-a sylvan solitude,-a fit spot for mute contemplation,-or, as the leaves are gently stirred by the passing breeze, for fancy to take wing and flee away into the regions of old romance; the first joyful summer sound that falls upon the attentive ear is that from the chirp of the CHIFF-CHAFF, or LESSER WILLOW WREN (motacilla trochilus) a dimunitive creature, yet, as a stranger, thrice welcome, the harbinger of sunny skies and days of beauty and sweetness. Perched on the higher part of an aspiring tree, or actively flitting about from branch to branch, its song, though extremely simple, embracing, indeed, only two notes, "chiffchaff," is thrown over the dense underwood with a joyousness which speaks of its own happy condition, and, at the same time, indicates to its mate its own whereabout. In the more obscure hollows of the wood, amid shattered rocks and peaceful nooks, it can awaken the echoes, and there it seems to possess more of heart and of happy and conscious security: a truly simple song, and affording a striking contrast to that which is heard in a neighbouring locality, the harsh note of the WRYNECK, (jynx torquilla,) another of the earliest summer visitors.

But, amid the several migratory birds which gladden our summer seasons with their presence, there are none more interesting than the hirundines, the swallow tribe; the HOUSE-SWALLOW (hirundo rustica), the MARTIN (hirundo urbica), the SAND-MARTIN (hirundo riparia), and the SWIFT (hirundo apus). Exclusive of the good which these migratory visitors do in clearing the atmosphere of annoying insects, especially around our dwellings, they possess a peculiar charm by the manifestation of other qualities-their beauty, their harmlessness, their sociability, the marvellous agility of their flight, their graceful evolutions, their unwearied industry, and their gladdening song. The chimney or house swallow is the first comer of the hirundo tribe, and the most expert upon the wing, taking in its flight a wider range than

the rest of its congeners. Its heartfelt song, warbled forth while at rest on eaves or chimney, may charm the ear; but its activity on the wing is not less attractive. During the most favourable weather, the swallow seems all heart and joyousness; visiting all localities; skimming the gravel-path of our pleasure-grounds, then wheeling round a clump of evergreens; gliding over park and paling; sweeping along the green shady lanes, on the line of hedge-rows, in the lee of the wood; over peaceful pastures, circling the cattle assembled beneath the shade of trees; skimming over rivers and lakes, occasionally dipping its wings; stretching far away over heaths and commons, and returning to its home with untiring wings; wonderful, too, in the construction of its nest, and affectionately faithful in the provision for its offspring. The flight of the house-martin, with its snow-white breast, embraces a more confined range, but it is equally graceful, but somewhat less daring; while that of the sand-martin is less still, and more like that of the butterfly; presenting a striking contrast to the rush of the swift, the last of the tribe in its arrival, and the first in its departure, with the racing and screaming around buildings, and, during a fine summer evening, floating on unmoved and outstretched wings, at an immense height, in the full enjoyment of perfect freedom and in the participation of the glory of the evening.

There is not, however, during the early portion of summer, a more welcome sound than the voice of the CUCKOO (cuculus canorus). Familiar to the ear from the days of childhood, the peculiar song of this vagrant visitor, from the many associations with which it is connected, sounds like the voice of an old friend, and claims the attention with a degree of interest in which the days of youth and joyousness come back upon the recollection with augmented power; presenting, perhaps, a striking contrast to those of more matured existence, with blighted hopes, departed joys, or days misspent or misapplied; sounds which, as it were, go creeping along the hedge-rows, through the coppices, amid dense underwood, or by the margin of some immense sylvan scene, however much we may disregard the peculiar fact that the cuckoo imposes the care and provision of its young upon other birds,— the hedge-sparrow, the titlark, the wagtail, or the white-throat.

But the NIGHTINGALE (motacilla luscinia), shy in its habits, as simple in its plumage, surpasses all the passeres in the sweetness of its song. In this respect, indeed, the bird of night is wholly unrivalled. And truly delightful it is on a lovely evening when summer is young, and perfumes are diffused around from fresh leaves and rich buds,—in the soft stillness of the twilight, when all nature is calm and beautiful, -to visit the long-drawn aisles of the sylvan sanctuary, and listen to the melodious anthem gushing from the liquid throat of the bird of night. The solemn stillness, the dreamy softness, the deepening gloom, prevail around, as if there was a pause in the intricacies of some profound mysterious rite. Then the gloom becomes deeper and deeper, the silence more and more impressive, the mystery more and more profound. The monarchs of the wood seem to have laid aside their robes of state, and to have lost their character in the dense and thickening throng. All nature, holding her breath, seems to be attentively listening. Then bursts upon the ear the matchless strain after strain in endless variety. The echoes, enamoured of the sound, repeat its sweetness again and again, until it dies away in the obscure distance. It is erroneous to say, as many writers

VOL. XVIII.

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have said, that the song of the nightingale partakes of a melancholy character. It is quite the reverse. It is a burst of joyous affection, of heartfelt gladness, of indescribable rapture, as it rises and falls, advances and recedes, swells and dies away, distinctly threading all the mazy intricacies of melody, bringing out, as it were, from the groundwork of song, the tracery and embroidery, the flowers, and wreaths, and chaplets, and festoons of beauty and of sweetness, with tones so liquid and so distinct, however elaborate, as to fully merit the characteristic of what the musician calls perfect execution. So far from the song of the nightingale being melancholy, it is an undisputed fact that this matchless songster, when a thrush, during the fading twilight, has perched itself on the topmost branch of a tall tree, and pours forth its most joyous strain, will fairly sing his pretended rival down, and make him steal away in the neighbouring thicket. This is especially the case when the mate of the nightingale is hastening the important work of incubation, during which period his song is the fullest and the most ardent. It is somewhat remarkable that, as the glow-worm puts out her lamp about midnight, so the song of the nightingale ceases about that hour, and is resumed between two and three o'clock, awakening the whole wood to join in the chorus of the matin hymn. But much depends upon the state of the weather. The strains which had hitherto charmed the ear of night, become less frequent when the care and provision of a young progeny claim and receive the most assiduous and affectionate attention.

Next in the order of arrival are, the BLACK-CAP (motacilla atricapilla), and the WHITE-THROAT (motacilla sylvia). The former frequents orchards and gardens, creeping about the fruit-trees in search of insects, occasionally uttering a subdued piping sound. Its movements are incessant, and its song is desultory. But when the female bird is sitting, her partner often assumes a quiet attitude, and pours forth the fullness of his heart in modulations marked by their softness, gentleness, and affectionate tenderness, excelling, indeed, many of the passeres in melodious sweetness; presenting a striking contrast to the white-throat, whose song, heard on lonely commons and downs, and in deserted and obscure lanes, is anything but sweet and pleasing to the ear. On the contrary, the LITTLE WILLOW-WREN or SEDGEWARBLER (motacilla trochilus), is a merry fellow; singing nearly all night long with a hurrying melody which seems, at times, to embrace the songs of several other birds. Little need be said of the STONECURLEW (charadrius ædicnemus); it dwells in the uplands and only visits a few of our counties: little also of the GRASSHOPPER-LARK (alauda trivialis), whose habits are extremely shy, and whose whispering notes are only heard when the bird is concealed. In the secluded woods, however, when all is calm and still around,-even the song of the WOOD-WREN (sylvia sibilatrix),—and neither the sound of footfall nor the croak of raven disturbs the mute serenity, the "coo" of the TURTLE-DOVE (columba turtur), is heard with peculiar pleasure, as the attention becomes enchained in a crowd of delightful associations. In all ages and countries, the "coo" of the turtle-dove has been deemed the expression of innocence, affection, and faithfulness, as the birds. themselves are represented as true emblems of those qualities. And who has failed to notice, particularly during the prevalence of night, the " crex-crex" of the LANDRAIL (rallus crex), which, issuing from the tall meadow grass or taller corn-fields, can be heard at an immense

distance, a truly summer sound, and indicative of the calm and dewy summer night?-or at the decline of day, the clear and liquid call, the "wit-wi-wit" of the QUAIL (perdix coturnix), from similar localities? — or, as night approaches, can turn aside the attention from the incessant jarr of the GOATSUCKER or FERN-OWL (caprimulgus europœus), as it beats the margins of coppices and hedgerows, or around timber trees in search of its prey, the night insects? Nearly the last in the train of summer visitors is the REDSTART (motacilla phoenicurus), not noted for the superiority of its song, but welcomed from its appearance and habits; building its nest near the habitations of man, in gardens and orchards, about greenhouses, vineries, and the like. The last comer of all is the FLY-CATCHER (muscicapa grisola). Almost mute, it delights not the ear with its song; but it gratifies the eye by its graceful evolutions on the wing, and is endeared by its familiarity with man. It forms its nest in climbing plants and vines in front of houses, and brings forth its young even in the presence of the inmates, with whom it becomes familiar. It subsists wholly upon insects, and takes its departure at an early period.

And is there not a high gratification in marking the habits and instincts of these several birds of passage? Knowledge is blended with delight, and health with both, as almost every description of locality and, consequently, every variety of scene, amid the pure air of the invigorating country, are embraced in the observation and the inquiry. Nor can the mind divest itself of higher considerations. While revolution, silent or turbulent, succeeds to revolution,-while we behold changes in forms of government and ways of fashion, in creeds of belief and modes of devotion,-the habits of these summer migratory visitors remain the same, and speak of the wisdom and goodness of their great Creator.

TO THE EVENING STAR.

FAIR Star! I gaze on thee, and o'er my brow
Plays the soft breeze of evening. Evermore
The shrine of pure and holy thought be thou,
Winning my soul from earth's dark dreams to soar.

I do remember me in childhood's hour,

When first my spirit drank thy glorious light,
Young fancy pictured an elysian bower,

Unfading wreaths, and skies for ever bright,

Within thy glittering orb ;-but ah! that dream,
Like other dreams, hath faded fast away,
And rarely Fancy casts its golden gleam
Upon the storm-clouds of my wintry day.

Yet, Star of Evening! furnish hopeful thought,
Thy trembling beams so soft and pure instil;
And the sad breast, where earthly passions wrought,
Peace from above with holiest calm shall fill !

Н. В. К.

In the parlour of a small inn situated in one of the dreariest districts of North Wales sat a young man of somewhat striking appearance; his lofty forehead and clear eye seemed to betoken intellectual powers of no ordinary grade, while lips thin and compressed, added to a heaviness about the brow, gave his countenance an air of decision and severity not perhaps altogether prepossessing. A light walking costume of shepherd's plaid shewed to advantage his tall and active figure as he balanced himself restlessly upon a couple of mine host's rickety chairs; a soiled newspaper was in his hand, from the perusal of which his glances wandered to the window with every symptom of impatience. At length the door of the apartment opened, and a short red-nosed individual, habited in dingy black, with a cravat which, by the effect of contrast, might pass for white, walked or rather shuffled in. Instantly rising and proffering a seat, the original occupant of the "Golden Goat" proceeded to apologize to his visitor for the liberty he had taken in summoning him thither:

My object, sir," continued the former, "is, as stated in my note, to discover a gentleman sufficiently acquainted with this locality to inform me what faith may be put in this description of a neighbouring estate which is for sale.' So saying, and handing across the newspaper, he pointed to an advertisement wherein every figure of speech, and every variety of type seemed to be exhausted in the attempt to convey "a very inadequate notion" of this "most unparalleled opportunity;"-the paragraph ran on as follows:

"This Estate, or rather Territorial Domain, embraces every attraction that can captivate the Artist, the Angler, the Poet, the Philosopher, the Man of Taste, and the Man of Business; comprising excellences at once unique and unequalled, and affording every facility of restoring to the arms, or rather pocket, of its fortunate proprietor that

'Lost Pleiad, seen no more below.' FIVE PER CENT ON CAPITAL!!

Plinlimmon, Cader Idris, and, above all, the Snowdonian Range, which, although inferior in altitude to

CHIMBORAZO AND MONT BLANC,

may yet be termed, if not The Monarch of Mountains,' at least

THE PRINCE OF WALES,

is distinctly visible through a tolerable telescope; while nearer home, the stupendous cataract of Pwllyndd Bwllchy, the ancient and antique ruins of Llfndd, and the commodious market-town of Cyddwllwll, afford every variety of food for the imagination, and luxuries for the table. The enviable proprietor of this Paradise would probably erect, in place of the present more homely residence,

A CASTELLATED MANSION IN THE ELIZABETHAŃ STYLE,

Thus ensuring to himself the title of the

MAGNUS APOLLO LOCI !!