Away! away! o'er earth and sea,
This land is now no home for thee !
Arise and stretch thy soaring wing,
And seek elsewhere the smiles of spring!

The wanderer now with pinions spread,
Afar to brighter climes has fled,

Nor casts one backward look, nor grieves
For those dear groves whose shade he leaves.

Why should he grieve? The beam he loves
Shines o'er him still where'er he roves,
And all those early friends are near
Who made his summer-home so dear.

Oh! deem not that the tie of birth
Endears us to this spot of earth;
For wheresoe'er our steps may roam,
If friends are near, that place is home.
No matter where our fate may guide us,
If those we love are still beside us!-✶ ✶ ✶

EAGLE AND SALMON.-A boatman, while engaged in conveying salt on the Onannaga Lake, a few years since, saw a large gray eagle cuting his gyrations in the air, apparently noticing some prey in the lake beneath. In a moment he poised, and darted from his altitude into the water, from which he was unable to rise. A continued flapping with his broad and extended pinions kept him from being drawn under, and proved that his diamond eyes had not mistaken their object. He approached the land slowly, the unknown creature below acting as propellant and helmsman. The boatman grew interested in the affair, and landed. The eagle, on touching terra firma, shewed himself fastened to a fine salmon. Our hero, thinking it time to take his share of the plunder, cut himself a stout cudgel, and approached the imperial bird of Jove; which, having his talons fast, was unable to rise, advance, or recede. Three times was the club raised to strike, but the noble bearing of the regal bird, and his undaunted front, made even the boatman quail. He could not assault imprisoned majesty. The eagle exhibited no signs of fear, but occasionally nibbled the gills of his prize, and indignantly glanced at the intrusive boatman. At length the talons of one leg became released, and by a dexterous turn, those of the other, when he soared away to his thunder clouds on high, leaving the much-coveted salmon to the boatman, who, on weighing it, found it to balance twenty-six pounds.

THE CASSOWARY.—An instance of the facility with which this class of birds swallow hard substances took place in a fine adult bird at the Surrey Zoological Gardens. Carpen

ters had been employed in erecting palings round a paddock intended for this bird, the tops of which had been sawn off, consisting of pieces from one to two inches in length, by an inch in thickness, most of them cut with extremely sharp angles. Thirty-one of these pieces, with a piece of brick about the same size, and a tenpenny nail, had been picked up by the bird, the whole of which passed through the stomach at one time, without any apparent inconvenience.

QUESTION AND ANSWER.

THE SWALLOW.

SWALLOW, why homeward turn'd thy joyful wing?
-In a far land I heard the voice of spring;

I found myself that moment on the way;

My wings, my wings, they had not power to stay.

SKYLARKS.

What hand lets fly the skylark from his rest?
-That which detains his mate upon the nest :
Love sends him soaring to the fields above,
She broods below, all bound with cords of love.

THE REDBREAST.

Familiar warbler, wherefore art thou come?
-To sing to thee when all beside are dumb;
Pray let your little children drop a crumb.

THE SPARROW.

Sparrow, the gun is levell'd; quit that wall,
-Without the will of Heaven, I cannot fall.

THE WATER-WAGTAIL.

What art thou made of - air, or light, or dew?

-I have not time to tell you, if I knew:

My tail-ask that-perhaps may solve the matter;
I've miss'd three flies already by this chatter.

THE WREN.

Wren, canst thou squeeze into a hole so small?

-Aye, with nine young ones too, and room for all:

Go, compass sea and land, in search of bliss;

Find, if you can, a happier home than this.

THE CHAFFINCH.

Stand still one moment!

-Spare your idle words;

I'm the perpetual mobile of birds;

My days are running, rippling, twittering streams;
When fast asleep, I'm broad awake in dreams.

THE CANARY.

Dost thou not languish for thy native land,

Madeira's fragrant woods and billowy strand?

-My cage is father-land enough for me;

Your parlour all the world-heaven, earth, and sea.

Who taught thee, Chanticleer, to count the clock?
-Nay, who taught man that lesson but the Cock ?
Long before wheels and bells had learn'd to chime,
I told the steps, unseen, unheard, of Time.

THE JACKDAW.

Canst thou remember that unlucky day,

When all thy peacock's plumes were pluck'd away?
-Remember it?-believe me, that I can,

With right good reason,-I was then a man!
And for my folly, by a wise old law,

Stript, whipt, tarr'd, feather'd, turn'd into a Daw.
Pray, how d'ye like my answer?-Caw, caw, caw!

THE OWL.

Blue-eyed, strange-voiced, sharp-beak'd, ill-omen'd fowl, What art thou?

-What I ought to be-an owl:

Bnt if I'm such a scarecrow in your eye,

You're a much greater fright in mine-good bye!

ROOKS.

What means that riot in your citadel?

Be honest, peaceable, like brethren dwell!
-How, while we live so near to man, can life
Be any thing but knavery, noise, and strife?

THE MAGPIE.

Magpie, thou too hast learn'd, by rote, to speak Words without meaning, through thy uncouth beak. -Words have I learn'd?-and without meaning too? Mark well-my masters taught me all they knew.

THE HAWK.

A life at every meal, rapacious Hawk ?
Spare helpless innocence.

-Troth, pleasant talk!
Yon Sparrow snaps more lives up in a day
Than in a twelvemonth I could take away;
But hark, most gentle censor, in your ear
A word, a whisper,-you,-are you quite clear?
Creation's groans, through ocean, earth, and sky,
Ascend from all that walk, or swim, or fly.

VULTURES.

Abominable Harpies; spare the dead.

-We only clear the field which man hath spread :
On whom should heaven its hottest vengeance rain?
You slay the living, we but strip the slain.

THE EAGLE.

Art thou the king of birds, proud Eagle, say?
-I am; my talons and my beak bear sway;

A greater king than I, if thou wouldst be,
Govern thy tongue, but let thy thoughts be free.

THE BIRD OF PARADISE.

Hail, Bird of Paradise!

-That name I bear,

Though I am nothing but a bird of air:
Thou art a child of earth, and yet to thee,
Lost and recover'd, Paradise is free:

Oh! that such glory were vouchsafed to me!

THE OSTRICH.

Hast thou expell'd the mother from thy breast,
And to the desert's mercies left thy nest?
-Ah! no; the mother in me knows her part;
Yon glorious sun is warmer than my heart;
And when to life he brings my hungry brood,

He spreads for them the wilderness with food.

THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW.-Few migratory birds have attracted so much observation as these, chiefly on account of the regularity of their movements, and the proximity of their abode to the residence of man: but though thus offering themselves continually to his observation, a satisfactory account of their migrations, and of the motives of them, is far from being obtained as yet: nor is this likely to be the case until the observations have been made for a longer period, and in different quarters of the world. For the furtherance of this object, the following notes are recorded:-These birds, in crossing the Channel, reach the land near the shore, and in misty weather seem to have a difficulty in finding it: for I have been assured by intelligent fishermen, that, when the weather is hazy, swallows, martens, swifts, and other birds are accustomed to alight on their boats, at the distance of three or four leagues from land, either singly or in small flocks; at which time they appear so much fatigued that the swallow is often only able to fly from one end of the boat to the other, when an attempt is made to seize it. The swallow and marten come either singly or in small parties, and, if they do not happen to be our own residents, soon pass on to their accustomed haunts; so that, after two or three have been seen, it may, perhaps, be a fortnight before others make their appearance. In 1831, a single swal

K

low was seen by a fisherman, near the Eddystone, on the 4th of April; again, a company of four was seen on the 13th, at sea, flying low, and making towards the land, at three o'clock, P. M. Two martens were also seen on the 16th; but the first of either of these that I saw was on the 19th. Martens and swallows continued to fly on board fishing-boats, at the distance of ten leagues from land, through the whole of May; my last note of that circumstance being so late as the 28th of that month. There are rarely more than two or three in a company; and, considering that the wheat-ear and willow-wren cross in safety, the state of fatigue in which they are seen is remarkable. One man informs me that in fine weather he has often seen them drop on the water flat and with the wings expanded, and presently after fly off again, as if refreshed.

The extraordinary confidence which these birds repose in man, in placing their nests among his dwellings, is worthy of notice, and explains a circumstance that is singular in the feathered race : Í allude to the fact of their singing on their nests, which can only take place where there is no desire of concealment. The nest of the swallow is commonly in an unused chimney, but I have known it on the rafters of a deserted house; and, at Trelawney, a swallow has for several years found an entrance through a loophole in a turret, and fixed its nest against a chamber door. The nest of the marten is placed under the eaves of houses, and the birds usually dedicate a few hours in the morning to the work, leaving it to dry during the remainder of the day; but I have known them neglect a fine morning, and carry on the work through the afternoon, from no other apparent reason than the facility of procuring mortar at that period from a small distance, in a place which in the morning was covered by the tide. In selecting a place for the nest, they are much influenced by its affording them a favourable fall in taking flight; and I have known them forsake a situation in which they had long been accustomed to build, only because a low wall had been erected in a situation that interfered with their comfortably taking flight. Towards the end of the season these birds congregate in rather large companies on the roof of a house, or other favourable situation, from which some are continually taking flight, and to which others are perpetually returning. This congregation seems only to arise from a sociable disposition; yet it continues, perhaps, for six weeks, until the party is reduced by migration to a very

small number.

My experience corroborates the remark that the swallow