undisturbed by human eye, has been seen full of goodly little dusky powder puffs of wild ducklings, and somehow or other, when he has emerged from the wilderness, it has been soon after discovered that the nest was empty. This feathered ogre was in the habit of visiting the nests day by day, biding his time till incubation was fully complete, when he swallowed every squab that had come to light. But every living thing eats only to be eaten. As far as humanity is concerned, the white stork appears to have gone out of fashion, and come in again as a savoury dish.

Cornelius Nepos, who died in the daies of Augustus Cæsar Emperor, in that chapter, where he wrote that a little before his time men began to feed and cram blackbirds and thrushes in coupes, saith moreover, that in his daies storks were holden for a better dish at the bourd than cranes. And yet see how in our age now no man will touch a storke if it be set before him upon the bourd; but every one is readie to reach unto the crane, and no dish is in more request.*

Horace, in his bitter second satire,† writes:

And the

Tutus erat rhombus, tutoque ciconia nido:

Donec vos auctor docuit Prætorius.

gay Petronius rattles along the lines, in which we hear the clatter of the bird's beak :

Ciconia etiam grata, peregrina, hospita,
Pietaticultrix, gracilipes, crotalistria,

Avis exsul hiemis, titulus tepidi temporis,
Nequitiæ nidum in cacabo fecit meo.‡

Old Belon (anno 1555) quotes the passage from Pliny, with the following comment:-Voulant dire que les Grues estoyent en delices, et les Cicognes n'estoyent touchées de personne.' But he adds, Maintenant les Cicognes sont tenues pour viande royale.'

We do not trace it in our household books. Indeed,

* Holland's Pliny.

† L. 49.

Satyricon, c. 55.

the bird never comes to these islands regularly; and but a few instances of its presence here in a free state are recorded, though it is so frequent on the Continent, and much farther north-Russia for example.

In the old Pharmacopoeia, which it must be owned contained many a rich prescription, the white stork made a great show. He who ate the flesh, roasted or boiled, might safely go to the wars as far as his nerves and joints were concerned; and it was considered equally potent against the more cruel domestic enemies -gout and sciatica. A diet on the young was equally efficient in disorders of the eyes; and their ashes made an infallible collyrium. To cure paralysis, you had only to catch a young stork, clap its bill under its wing, suffocate it under a pillow, chop it up, put the pieces into an alembic, save the distilled liquor, and after having bathed the disabled limb with a decoction of crabs without salt, mind you-anoint it with the aforesaid essence of stork, and follow this course alternately, when, if the patient was not cured, 'twas a wonder. If you should have some misgivings concerning the efficacy of the nestling, consult Leonellus Faventinus, and he will tell you that an old stork, plucked and simmered in oil, till the flesh separates from the bones, is just as good against the same disease as oil of vipers. Take one ounce of camphor, with a drachm of the best amber, place it in the belly of an exenterated young stork caught before he can fly, distil it, and Andreas Furnerius will assure you that you have an infallible cosmetic, which we venture to state will mend complexions as effectually as the Circassian Bloom, or Rowland's Kalydor. Pliny will convince you that the stomach of the bird was a specific against all poisons, and Belon corroborates him. In short, not to weary you, dear reader, the stork, according to these wise men, was a universal medicine chest.

The bird was looked up to by more than one profession, the gardener looked at its bill, and named one of his most favourite groups of plants Pelargonium; the chemist beheld it, and fashioned his retort; and the apothecary took a hint from the practice of the bird about which we care not to be particular, though some will have it that it was the ibis and not the stork which made the suggestion. And here we may observe, that Belon and others are of opinion that our bird is the white ibis of Herodotus (Euterpe, 76); but it should be remembered that the moderns as well as the delightful Halicarnassian record, and with truth, a white as well as a dark species of ibis; and it is not less true that there is a black as well as a white stork.

The black stork* is the very opposite to the white species, in manners as well as in colour, flying from the haunts of men as eagerly as they are sought by the latter. The food is nearly the same as that of Ciconia alba, with, however, a greater leaning towards a fish diet.

Its visits to this country are rare. Colonel Montagu's tame black stork was slightly shot in the wing on Sedgemoor, near the parish of Stoke in Somersetshire, in May, 1814. The bone was not broken, and the bird lived in the colonel's possession in good health for more than a year. Like the white stork, it frequently rested upon one leg; and if alarmed, particularly by the approach of a dog, it made a considerable noise by reiterated snapping of the bill, similar to that species. It soon became docile, and would follow its feeder for a favourite morsel-an eel. When very hungry it crouched, resting the whole length of the legs upon the ground, and seemed to supplicate for food by nodding its head, flapping its wings, and forcibly expelling the air from the lungs with audible

*Ciconia nigra.

A

expirations. Whenever it was approached, the blowing, accompanied by repeated nodding of the head, was provoked. It was of a mild and peaceful disposition, very unlike many of its congeners; for it never used its formidable bill offensively against any of its prisoned companions, and even submitted peaceably to be taken up without much struggle. From the manner in which it was observed to search the grass with its bill, there could be no doubt that reptiles form part of its natural food; and the colonel inferred that even mice, worms, and the larger insects probably, add to its usual repast. When searching in thick grass, or in the mud, for its prey, the bill was kept partly open. 'By this means,' says the colonel, 'I have observed it take eels in a pond with great dexterity: no spear in common use for taking that fish can more effectually receive it between its prongs than the grasp of the stork's open mandibles. small eel has no chance of escaping when once roused from its lurking-place. But the stork does not gorge its prey instantly like the cormorant; on the contrary, it retires to the margin of the pool, and there disables its prey by shaking and beating it with its bill before it ventures to swallow it. I never observed this bird attempt to swim; but it will wade up to the belly, and occasionally thrust the whole head and neck under water after its prey. It prefers an elevated spot on which to repose; an old ivy-bound weeping willow, that lies prostrate over the pond, is usually resorted to for that purpose. In this quiescent state the neck is much shortened by resting the hinder part of the head on the back, and the bill rests on the fore-part of the neck, over which the feathers flow partly so as to conceal it, making a very singular appearance.'

In this attitude the bird may be seen in the Zoological Garden in the Regent's Park, where one has lived many years, and has stood for his portrait to most of the

ornithological writers of the day. Its likeness illustrates the works of Bennett, Selby, Gould, Meyer, and Yarrell.

Truly Brahminical and reflective is the air of one of these old stagers. Motionless in the attitude above described stands the black philosopher. It is a lovely summer's day, but the sun and the gentle breeze floating the clouds under the blue sky move him not. A slight motion in the eye may be detected as one of the giddy young sparrows with which the Zoological Garden is infested flits by, but he stirs not. At last a luckless new-fledged one passes within reach of our philosopher. Quick as thought the trenchant bill is darted forward, and-crack!- the little bird is seized and swallowed.

Gesner recommends that the bird should be first boiled and then roasted. He describes the flesh as of a reddish tinge like that of a salmon, and to his taste it seemed good and sweet; but he adds that the skin is very tough, and if this were to be taken off there would, probably, be no need of the boiling.

The visitors to the Garden in the Regent's Park will have noticed a queer, uncouth, bald, scabrous-headed feathered form, with an enormous beak, now marching in comic stateliness, at another time standing on one or two stilts of legs with an air of drunken gravity, and again seated with the whole length of legs stretched out and resting upon them, as the black stork is above described to have rested. It is now some sixty years since this odd form was first introduced to the ornithologists of this country. At first it was commonly known by the name of the 'Adjutant,' the title conferred on it in Calcutta. Dr. Latham first described this Bengal adjutant, the argala of the natives, in his general synopsis, as 'the gigantic crane.' But, in truth, there are no less