and the latest the 20th of April; the 7th of April and the 27th of that month, are the respective dates recorded by Markwick. The old French quatrain thus celebrates his habits: "Dans les maisons fait son nid l'Hirondelle, Ou bien souvent dans quelque cheminée: Tant qu'il n'y a oyseau plus léger qu'elle." He who would hear the swallow sing must rise early, for the bird is a matutinal songster, as Apuleius well knew. It would be a waste of time to do more than hint at the exploded fables of swallows retiring under water in the winter, though from time to time some worthy goody or gaffer even now tries to revive them, not without some recipients of the tale, so prone is the human mind to catch at any thing wonderful, and so constantly does error again rise to the surface! but the evidence of the migration of the whole family is now so complete and irresistible, that it amounts to absolute proof. Again and again have they been seen crossing the sea, sometimes dropping into it to take a marine bath, and then pursuing their journey refreshed and exhilarated. The martin with his pure white lower back and under parts, most probably turns his neb northward, from Africa, at the same time with the swallow, but his powers of wing cannot keep pace with the extensive sail of the latter, and he generally arrives a few days later. The earliest and latest periods recorded by White are the 28th of March and the 1st of May, and those given by Markwick are the 14th of April and the 18th of May. The sand-martin arrives earlier than either of the other two species. The earliest and latest dates recorded by White are the 21st of March and the 12th of April; Markwick's are the 8th of April and the 16th of May. The average time of the arrival of the common-swift is early in May; but White saw it as early as the 13th of April, and the latest time noticed by him is the 7th of May. Markwick never saw it earlier than the 28th of April, and the latest arrival observed by him was the 19th of that month. The great alpine swift, which chooses the highest rocks and the most towering cathedrals for his nesting-places, can only be considered as an accidental visiter to these islands, and does not appear to have been seen here earlier than in June. The architecture of the three first species of this family here noticed, deserves attention. Early in the season the swallows and house-martins may be seen on the ground in moist places, or near the edges of ponds or puddles. They are then collecting the clay or mortar, which-strengthened with straws and grass-stems to keep it together in the case of the swallow-is to form their nest. One course or raise only, as the Devonians call it, is laid on at a time, and that is left to settle and dry before the next is added, as men proceed in making a cob-wall; and thus the work proceeds, day after day, till the saucer-shaped nest of the swallow and the hemispherical cob-house of the martin are complete. The sand-martin proceeds upon a different plan: he is a miner, and excavates his dwelling in the sand-bank, as the ancient Egyptian carved his temple out of the solid rock. Look at the bill of this little bird. Though small, it is hard and sharp, and well our sapper knows how to use it. Clinging to the face of the sandbank with its sharp little claws, and closing its bill, the bird works away with its natural pickaxe, till the hard sand comes tumbling down on all sides. Round he goes, now with his head up, now down, till he has planned his circular cave as regularly almost as compasses could do it; and yet he does not trace it out from a fixed point in the centre, but works from the circumference. When he has well broken ground, he tunnels away as truly as Sir Isambard himself, and while the bird works into his excavation, he shifts his position as the necessities of the case require; now he stands on the floor, now he clings to the roof with his back downwards, and how carefully does he remove the rubbish from the upward, inclined floor with his feet, taking care not to disturb its solidity. But we must pause, and refer those who may be interested in the operations of this industrious little bird to Mr. Rennie's excellent description-we can vouch for its accuracy-in his " Architecture of Birds," a book in which every lover of nature will find amusement and instruction. The nest of the common swift is a farrago of bits of rag, a feather or two, dry grass-blades and stems, and fragments of straw; but these materials appear to be cemented or glued together. What this glue is composed of is not known, though some have supposed it to be the saliva, or a mucous secretion of the bird itself. The nests of the Chinese swallow, with which the brother of the sun and moon enriches his soup when they are clean and fair, and glues his bamboo-seat when they are dark and dirty, are said to owe their glutinous quality to Ulvæ, or sea-weeds, like our laver, worked up by the builders. But the nest of the common swift, which is deposited under the eaves of the old house or church, in a hole in a steeple, or in some antiquated turret, has generally a very compressed appearance, the result of the pressure of generation after generation there hatched and reared. Here again we have strong evidence of the memory of birds. Dr. Jenner proved by the most irrefragable evidence, that the same pair of birds returned to the same nest year after year. Theirs is a chequered life. When the sun shines bright, and all the insect-world is stirring, the swifts are sporting in the brilliant summer-light, and sailing in the air in all the luxury of enjoyment: but let a windy, stormy time come-where are they then? Laid up in solitude and darkness, hour after hour, in their gloomy nesting-places, to climb into which their short feet are admirably adapted, for all four of the toes are turned forward to aid them in creeping into their narrow dormitories. We cannot quit this family without adverting to a charge made against some of the species-abandonment of their young. This has been proved against the swallow and the martin; and the swift has been suspected, whether justly or not we shall presently inquire. There is no doubt that late broods of swallows have been left by their vagrant parents to perish in their nests by the most distressing of deaths; and as little that the martins are guilty of the same desertion. Dr. Jenner has recorded the fact against a pair of martins which hatched four broods in one year: the last hapless brood came into existence early in October, and about the middle of the month the old birds went off, and left their nestlings, then about half-fledged, to die. They returned to the nest on the 17th of May, in the next year, and threw the skeletons out, Mr. Blackwall has put the frequent occurrence of this unparental act beyond doubt. Among many other evidences, he has seen a pair of house-martins, after taking possession of an old nest, draw out the dried bodies of three nearly full-fledged nestlings, before they established themselves therein. About the same time, and near the same place, another pair endeavoured to get rid of the dead bodies of the victims; their efforts to dislodge the carcasses were ineffectual, and they then closed up the aperture of the nest with clay, thus converting it into a sepulchre. At first Mr. Blackwall was disposed to attribute the untimely death of the nestlings to the accidental destruction of one or both parents; but the accumulated evidence forbade any other conclusion than that these cases of protracted suffering and ultimate dissolution, were the result of voluntary abandonment. May not the praises bestowed of old upon the swallow for its piety in burying its dead, have taker. their origin from some such fact as one of those recorded by Mr. Blackwall? But how are we to account for this perversion of the parenta feeling-that all-absorbing affection for offspring which, in bird: especially, is paramount? We find an answer in another law stronger even than parental affection, the law of self-preservation. What were the unhappy parents to do? Beguiled by the sunny skies of a fine autumn, they hoped to rear their broods; but wita the advancing season came churlish days and nipping frosts, de * Researches in Zoology. stroying their insect food, and making their case desperate. Go they must, or perish likewise; and the love of life prevailed. We have observed in the west of England, the extreme anxiety of the parent birds to get a late brood out of the nest in time for the general departure. Towards the end of September, 1840, a pair of martins seemed at their wit's end to get their nestlings to leave the nest over the porch of the dwelling-house. At last, one Sunday evening, all the martins in the parish seemed to be collected about the door, darting by the nest, wheeling in short circles, near it, and uttering a call-note as they passed the aperture. It was as if the old martins had gone round to their friends and said, "For any sake do come and help to get these obstinate children out, or they will infallibly be left to starve." The experiment succeeded, for next morning the young were gone. In the case recorded by White, the male swift appears to have been guilty of desertion, but the more affectionate mother staid by her little ones till they were able to accompany her to more sunny climes. "Our swifts, in general," says that delightful writer, "withdrew this year about the first day of August, all save one pair, which in two or three days was reduced to a single bird. The perseverance of this individual made me suspect that the strongest of motives, that of an attachment to her young, could alone occasion so late a stay. I watched, therefore, till the 24th of August, and then discovered that, under the eaves of the church, she attended upon two young which were fledged, and now put out their white chins from a crevice. These remained till the 27th, looking more alert every day, and seeming to long to be on the wing. After this day they were missing at once: nor could I ever observe them with their dam coursing round the church in the act of learning to fly, as the first broods evidently do. On the 31st I caused the eaves to be searched, but we found in the nest only two callow, dead swifts, on which a second nest had been formed. The following remarks on this unusual incident are obvious. The first is, that though it may be disagreeable to swifts to remain beyond the beginning of August, yet that they can subsist longer is undeniable. The second is, that this uncommon event, as it was owing to the loss of the first brood, so it corroborates my former remark, that swifts breed regularly but once.' The purple martin of the United States (Hirundo purpurea), appears to be as great a favourite with our transatlantic brethren as the swallows and martins are with us. * Natural History of Selborne, vol. ii. "I never," says the celebrated Wilson, "met with more than one man who disliked the martins, and would not permit them to settle about his house. This was a penurious, close-fisted German, who hated them because, as he said, 'they ate his peas.' I told him he must be mistaken, as I never knew an instance of martins eating peas; but he replied with coolness, that he had many times seen them himself blaying near the hife, and going schnip schnap,' by which it was understood that his bees had been the sufferers, and the charge could not be denied." We believe that all our species are guiltless of such depredation, though Virgil, in his fourth Georgic, distinctly charges the swallow with the act. Before we take leave of these innocent and useful little birds, may we be pardoned for pleading in their favour against the wanton and cruel sport-if sport it must be called-of swallowshooting? We say nothing of the sudden deprivation of a life of utility and enjoyment in the case of the bird shot, for the mere amusement of any mischievous coxcomb who is master of a gunthough that is something: it is to the agonizing and lingering death to which this abominable practice condemns the nestlings that we would point attention: and sure we are that there is no manly heart that will not shrink with horror from knowingly inflicting such suffering. Another barbarous amusement-more practised, we are happy to say, in foreign countries than in our own-is angling for the hirundinidæ from some lofty tower. The bait is a feather, at which the unsuspecting victim dashes to secure it as a prize for its nest. The tormentor-we cannot call him sportsman-every now and then drops small bits of white paper by way of attraction, as the punt-angler throws in his balls of clay and bran to collect the fish. The swallow not unfrequently takes the trout-angler's artificial fly, to the distress of the fisherman, and the destruction of the unfortunate bird. The migratory Merulide which come to our coasts, are mostly winter visiters; but as the majority arrive at a period when they are mute as songsters, they do not claim more than a passing notice here. The rare White's thrush, of which the Earl of Malmsbury possesses so fine a specimen, was shot by his lordship in January, on his estate at Heron Court, near Christ-church. The field-fare and redwing are regular and annual winter visitants. The nest of the former has indeed been found occasionally, but very rarely, in England and Scotland. Norway, Sweden, Russia, and Siberia, are their summer quarters; and they remain throughout the year in Poland, Prussia, and Austria. Harsh as is the call-note of the field-fare, the song is soft and melodious, and the bird sings agreeably in confinement, to which it soon be |