are balls composed of fine hairs, from the stomach of a cuckoo ; and John Hunter, the founder of that noble collection, observes, in his Animal Economy, that the cuckoo in certain seasons lives on caterpillars, some of which have hairs of a considerable length on their bodies, and that the ends of these hairs are found sticking in the horny coat of the stomach or gizzard, while the hairs themselves are laid flat on its surface; not in every direction, which would be the case if there was no regular motion, but all one way, arising from a central point placed in the middle of the horny part, the appearance on both sides of the gizzard evidently corresponding.

The gallant chanticleer has been termed the shepherd's clock; and the cuckoo may be called the husbandman's timekeeper. Hesiod (Works and Days, 484), tells us that when the song of the latter was heard amid the oak-leaves, it was late for ploughing, though there was still good time, if it rained incessantly three days and three nights; and woe to the ancient Italian vine-dresser whom the voice of the cuckoo surprised before he had finished pruning his vine. Hence the irritating mockery with which the wayfarer, loudly imitating the notes of the bird, assailed the husbandman as he cultivated his vineyard, taunting him with his sloth.* In this country the cuckoo arrives in April. The earliest time noted by White is the 7th of that month, and the latest the 26th. Markwick's periods of arrival are April 15th, and May 3rd, and he records the bird as last heard on the 28th of June; indeed it has been observed that there is a remarkable coincidence between the time of the bird's song and the season of the continuance of the mackarel in full roe; that is, from about the middle of April to the latter end of June. The notes of the male have, however, been heard as late as the end of July. As the season advances, the clearness of his two distinct notes is gradually lost, till at last they are curtailed to an indistinct "gowk" whence its provincial name. Aristotle has noticed the failure of its song, and its broken notes before its departure.†

The male arrives here before the female: the voice of the latter is totally unlike that of the male, and somewhat resembles the voice of the gallinules and dabchicks. This attracts the other sex, and she may often be seen attended by one or two beaux, crying most vehemently as they follow in her train, and occasionally fighting with each other. The males seem to have favourite trees where they repeat their song, for Pennant caught in a trap, which he placed on a tree frequented by them, no fewer than five

* Hor. Sat. 1. 7. Pliny. Nat. Hist. xvIII. 26. Hist. Anim. ix. 49.

of that sex in one season.

As the cuckoo flies along he is often

mobbed by the little birds.

"Le coqu est de tous oyseaux hay,

Parce qu'au nid des autres il va pondre,

Par cest oyseau fault les amans semondre,

Qu'aucun mary par eux ne soit trahy."

The history of his advent to this country, and of his departure from it, is comprised in these old English lines, of which there are different versions :

In April

Come he will,

In flow'ry May
He sings all day,
In leafy June

He changes his tune,

In bright July

He's ready to fly,

In August

Go he must."

The young cuckoos do not leave us till September. Some few late-hatched birds may be found during winter in hollow trees, as observed by Agricola in his book, De Animantibus Subterraneis, or in the thickest tangles of a furze-bush, as asserted by others; yet these are but exceptions, for young cuckoos have rarely been kept alive till the ensuing spring. Indeed, there can be no doubt as to the fact of their migration: Mr. Swainson saw them arrive at Sicily and Naples in the spring, and thence direct their flight northward. One brought to Colonel Montagu in July, just as it could fly, was by great care kept alive till the 14th of December. This bird was very much afraid of strangers, but suffered itself to be handled quietly by a young lady who had fed it and been its kind benefactress, and it appeared to be comforted, poor thing, by the warmth of her hand to its feet.

Mr. Von Schauroth gives the species a very unamiable character in captivity. He reared many, and tried to domesticate one in particular, but it was never entirely tamed. Buffon, on the contrary, states that he was acquainted with several persons who had reared and tamed them, though he lost all he tried to rear between autumn and winter. He relates that one knew his master, came at his call, followed him in the chase, perched on his gun, and, if it found a cherry-tree in its way, would fly to it, and not return till it had eaten plentifully. Sometimes it would not return to its master for the whole day, but would follow him from tree to tree. The account of the relish with which this cuckoo regaled upon the cherries is curious, with

reference to the old rhyme employed by nurses to teach a child its first words,

"Cuckoo,
Cherry-tree;
Lay an egg,
Bring it me;"

and indeed few of these nursery jingles are without some foundation. But, although the cuckoo may occasionally solace its palate with cherries, insects certainly form the principal nourishment of the species, as we have before observed.

And now farewell to our feathered vocal visiters

"Till green leaves come again."

August, 1841.

OWLS.

"Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,

In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,

That the graves all gaping wide,

Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the church-way paths to glide."

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

THE lurking belief in the existence of supernatural agency has been apparent in every age of which we have any record. Men, whether civilized or uncivilized, seem always to have been possessed with a notion of spiritual manifestation; and this notion combined with the longing after immortality characteristic of human nature, has either taken the holy form of sound religionwithout whose aid no laws merely human could keep that strange piece of work, man, within those bounds beyond which all would become licence and confusion-or has degenerated into the

66

Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas,
Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala-"

that in some shape or other have darkened the page of history with the terrors and the cruelties-for none are more apt to be cruel than frightened people-of superstition.

When once this same evil principle has taken root in the mind, its bitter fruit is soon seen in the horrors with which the most ordinary accidents and the most common things, animate and inanimate, become invested. It is not uninteresting to observe how a harmless bird or innocent quadruped, when looked at through the superstitious medium, is magnified into a being of high importance, capable, in the opinion of the soul-stricken spectator, of working weal or woe on his destinies; nor is it unamusing to trace down these fantasies in connexion with the natural history of such charmed creatures,-though it by no means follows that what amuses the writer must be pleasant to the reader.

There are few animals that have been more suspiciously regarded than owls. Their retired habits, the desolate places that are their favourite haunts, their hollow hootings, fearful shriekings, serpent-like hissings, and coffin-maker-like snappings, have helped to give them a bad eminence, more than overbalancing all the glory that Minerva and her own Athens could shed around them.

In the sacred volume, or rather in our translations of it, we find the owl again and again associated with desolation. The thirtyfourth chapter of Isaiah, in the version now read in our churches, teems with instances:

"11. But the cormorant and the bittern shall possess it; the owl also and the raven shall dwell in it: and he shall stretch out upon it the line of confusion, and the stones of emptiness.

"13. And thorns shall come up in her palaces, nettles and brambles in the fortresses thereof: and it shall be an habitation of dragons, and a court of owls.

"14. The wild beasts of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow; the screech-owl also shall rest there, and find for herself a place of

rest.

"15. There shall the great owl make her nest, and lay, and hatch, and gather under her shadow: there shall the vultures also be gathered, every one with her mate."

But there are not wanting those who do not admit any owl at all into any of these verses, except the fourteenth, where the original word rendered in our bibles Screech Owl," is Lilith; and this, indeed, seems to be the better opinion.

In Barker's bible-"Translated according to the Hebrew and Greeke, and conferred with the best translations in divers languages: with most profitable annotations upon all the hard places, &c. &c. Imprinted at London by Robert Barker, Printer to the King's most excellent Maiestie, 1615," the word owl" does not occur at all in the thirteenth verse of this chapter, where it is signified "that Idumea should be an horrible desolation and barren wildernesse."

"11. But the pelicane and the hedgehog shall possesse it, and the great owle and the raven shall dwell in it, and hee shall stretch out upon it the line of vanitie, and the stones of emptinesse.

"13. And it shall bring foorth thornes in the palaces thereof, nettles and thistles in the strong holdes thereof, and it shall be an habitation for dragons and a court for ostriches.

"14. There shall meete also Ziim and Jim, and the Satyre shall cry to his fellow, and the shrich-owle shall rest there, and shall finde for her selfe a quiet dwelling.

"15. There shall the owle make her nest, and lay, and hatch,