by a lengthened, concave, bony ring, or chalice-like tube, consisting of several staves or plates fitted to each other longitudinally. The cornea is placed at the end of this tube, and so is carried out beyond the feathers of the facial disk and head, whilst the whole machinery can be adjusted at the volition of the animal with greater nicety than that of any optical instrument made by human hands, according to the quantity of light present, or the focus required. In the typical owls, the eyes are set so completely in front, that in order to see any thing at their side or a little behind them, they must turn the head entirely, and thus bring the whole concentrating apparatus to bear upon the object. In the accipitrine or less typical owls,-the hawk-owl, Surnia funerea, for example, which frequently hunts by day—the head is smaller, and the facial disk less perfect, so that the bird is better able to bear a strong light.

The sense of hearing is most acute. The wide and moderately deep outward meatus is guarded by an internal fold of skin, and provided with a well-developed auricular circle of feathers which, together, well officiate as an external concha to catch and convey the slightest sound. The rustling of a straw, a dead leaf, or withered herbage, may betray the “timorous beastie” that runs below. With all this, the plumage is of the softest texture, and is so contrived, that the action of flying shall not interfere with the perfect effect of the auditory machinery, or operate as a warning to the prey. The external edge of the primary quill-feathers is serrated, so that less resistance is offered, and the flight is performed noiselessly, in strong contrast with the whirring-wing of the partridge, whose heavy body is borne off with a startling sound that brings the heart of the inexperienced sportsman into his mouth, and often saves the game. Both bone and muscle are kept down to the lowest point in the owl to make it as light as possible; and thus framed and feathered, the bird

Floats in the air like a downy balloon.

The family of owls known to modern zoologists by the somewhat disreputable name of Strigidæ, is very numerous and its geographical distribution very extensive. In all lands from the Arctic circle to Port Famine, and perhaps to the south of that ominous locality, owls are to be found. Any attempt to enumerate the species would be an infliction which we, at least, have not the heart to administer.

An account of the British owls including the visiters, will be as much as the most resigned reader, who is not of the deepest orni

thological blue can bear; and to these Strigida we promise to confine ourselves.*

We have not a regularly migratory owl among us except the short-eared owl (Strix brachyotus), and probably the little horned owl (Scops). The other true British Strigida are honest stay-athome people, and are quizzed accordingly. We will begin with the residents, then take a look at the emigrants, and conclude with the occasional visiters.

Of the residents, the typical barn-owl, white owl, church-owl, gilli-howlet, screech-owl, Strix flammea, to mention only a few of his names, first attracts our attention with his downy buff coat, well powdered occasionally with black, white, and gray, and his snowy waistcoat. Though he stays with us all the year, his race is spread over a great part of the world, and they are to be found settled all over temperate Europe, and as far south as the Cape of Good Hope, not disdaining Japan and India, but eschewing America.

The habits of this species-but White has so beautifully and succinctly described them that we dare not venture on any description of our own.

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We have had," says the charming author of "The Natural History of Selborne”- ever since I can remember, a pair of white owls that constantly breed under the eaves of this church. As I have paid good attention to the manner of life of these birds during their season of breeding, which lasts the summer through, the following remarks may not, perhaps, be unacceptable :

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About an hour before sunset (for then the mice begin to run) they sally forth in quest of prey, and hunt all round the hedges of meadows and small enclosures for them, which seem to be their only food. In this irregular country we can stand on an eminence and see them beat the fields over like a setting-dog, and often drop down in the grass or corn. I have minuted these birds with my watch for an hour together, and have found that they return to their nest, the one or the other of them, about once in five minutes; reflecting, at the same time, on the adroitness that every animal is possessed of as far as regards the wellbeing of itself and

* This resolution requires great self-control. There is hardly an owl in the five quarters of the world-for Australia must now be considered the fifthabout which much might not be written. That burrowing owl, Noctua cunicularia, the chum of the bizcacha, is one among a host of transatlantic subjects that force themselves upon our attention, clamorous for notice; but the borough-monger has never appeared among us, in feathered form at least, and we must be firm. New Zealand has lately supplied us, amongst other ornithological monstrosities, with a bird which may be said to be half an owl and half a parrot. (Strigops, Gray.)

offspring. But a piece of address which they show when they return loaded, should not, I think, be passed over in silence. As they take their prey with their claws, so they carry it in their claws to their nest; but as the feet are necessary in their ascent under the tiles, they constantly perch first on the roof of the chancel, and shift the mouse from their claws to their bill, that the feet may be at liberty to take hold of the plate on the wall as they are rising under the eaves.

White owls seem not (but in this I am not positive) to hoot at all; all that clamorous hooting appears to me to come from the wood kinds. The white owl does indeed snore and hiss in a tremendous manner; and these menaces well answer the intention of intimidating; for I have known a whole village up in arms on such occasions, imagining the churchyard to be full of goblins and spectres. White owls also often scream horribly as they fly along; from this screaming probably arose the common people's imaginary species of screech-owl, which they superstitiously think attends the windows of dying persons."

White was seldom wrong, and we here see that he qualifies the assertion touching the non-hooting of this species. The general opinion of naturalists was, that the barn-owl was never known to hoot, and so thought Montagu, a good observer. But Sir W. Jardine shot one in the midst of its hooting solo, and he states that hooting is their usual cry at night when undisturbed. Yarrell, we think, comes nearest to the truth, when he states that this owl screeches, but does not generally hoot. That it does hoot occasionally there can be no doubt; but the well-known nocturnal concerts are, we believe, principally due to the performers mentioned by White.

The nest is generally formed, rudely enough, in some old building, and the number of white eggs, somewhat more oval than those of the brown or wood owl, is three or four. The young, who stick to the nest a long time,—as long, indeed, as the old ones will procure mice for them,-are at first covered with a white down. Sometimes three different hatches of these animated, important-looking powder-puffs are to be found in the same cradle, and not unfrequently eggs are discovered along with them.

This owl has a spice of the poacher about him, for he is a night-fisher as well as a mouse-hunter, and has been seen to plunge into a lake by moonlight, and bear away a perch to his nest. The claw of his middle toe is serrated, and perhaps helps him on these slippery occasions. He and his have found a zealous advocate in the warm-hearted proprietor of Walton Hall; and every farmer ought to respect this eagle of the mice.

The tawny owl, ivy owl, or brown owl, (Surnium aluco) clad in his russet coat, is a sylvan hermit with a dash of the poacher about him too,—a sort of feathered clerk of Copmanhurst, for

"He whoops out his song and he laughs at his jest,"

living ostensibly on very simple food, but making free every now and then with a young rabbit or mayhap a leveret, and occasionally fastening upon the best that the stream or pond contains, whether it swims on the surface of deep waters, or lies at the bottom of shallow brooks, like the loach and the miller's thumb, which last is better known to the Wykehamist schoolboy, who goes after him with a fork instead of a trident, as a "Tom Cull.” The old birds have been seen to feed their young with these little fishes alive and struggling from the stream; and brown owls have been more than suspected of stealing gold and silver fish.

This is a truly nocturnal species, hiding itself by day in the darkness of deep forests, and never willingly venturing forth till sunset; for it bears the light worse than the barn-owl.

Cowper has admirably sung the "sidling" and "ogling" of a small-bird flirtation; but he does not appear to have ever witnessed the grand passion of an owl; would that he had! Such a serious affair is only to be observed by the out-door naturalist, who will bury himself for hours in the depths of the quiet woods near some favourite owl-tree.

If he is so fortunate as to see the courtship on some warm, gloomy, spring day, whose stillness is only broken by the pattering of the shower, or the "minute drops" that fall from the mossgrown trees, he will be well repaid for his watching, by the solemnization. The Hudribastic air with which the lover approaches, making lowly gesticulations, as if to

"Honour the shadow of the shoe-tie"

of the prim, quaker-like figure, that receives all these humilities with the demure, starched demeanour of one of Richardson's heroines, only now and then slowly turning her head towards the worshipper, when she thinks she is not observed, but instantly turning it away when she thinks she is,—and the occasional prudish snap of her bill, when she is apprehensive that he is going to be rude-make a scene truly edifying.

This is the species that makes the moonlight woods echo with its hootings, when, as White remarks, its throat swells as big as a hen's egg. Nor is it vocal in the night alone, for when in love, it will hoot in the middle of the day—at least a South-Welsh owl will.

Owls are not beloved by other birds, especially the smaller

ones, for the latter know well enough that the former will make no scruple of gobbling up their young ones, and sometimes make free with themselves: Sir W. Jardine found the remains of a thrush in an individual of the species of which we are now treating. The German bird-catcher takes advantage of this antipathy, particularly when he wants a few jays, and, according to Bechstein, he proceeds after the following fashion :

The

In the autumn he seeks in a wood for a tree standing alone, a few yards from the others most frequented by birds, and on it places his limed twigs. In order to lay his twigs effectively, he so cuts off most of the branches as to form a kind of spiral staircase, beginning this operation some ten or a dozen feet from the ground, and continuing it to within six feet of the top. branches being thus shortened to the length of five or six spans, he builds a leafy hut of green branches large enough to conceal as many of his companions as are selected to enjoy the farce about to be enacted. On the top of his hut he sets up a live owl, or, if he has none, the image of an owl made of clay, or, in default of either, the skin of a hare so managed that motion may be given to it. All being ready, and the twilight approaching, nothing is wanting but his bird-call, made of a small stick with a notch cut in it, and a little piece of the bark of the cherry-tree inserted, another bit serving for the cover. With this he imitates the voice of the owl, for whom the jays have as much affection as the population of the Queen's Bench prison for the hapless gent, one etc.," who is caught within its royal precincts.

As soon as the jays hear the voice of their detested enemy down they come screeching from all sides, whilst the repetition of their cries by the bird-catchers in the hut, causes them to assemble in greater numbers. Entangled in the birdlime, crowded and sticking together and dragging each other down, the whole surprised and peevish mass falls pell-mell in a fluttering, squalling conglomeration into the hut, their weight carrying them through its slight covering, and they are secured by the bird-catchers. Nor are jays the only birds taken on these occasions; for many others, such as magpies, thrushes, wood-peckers, and even redbreasts and tits hearing the row, hasten to the assistance of their allies the jays, and share their fate.

The eggs of the wood or brown owl, which is widely extended over Europe, and has been found in Smyrna and Japan, are generally deposited in the hole of a decayed tree: but the bird sometimes takes possession of the deserted nest of a carrion crow, or a magpie, and sometimes selects a hole in a rock. When the large eggs, which are from three to four in number, white, and nearly round, are laid in such holes, the bottom of them is