I have watched a

almost similar circumstances. little feeble bird on a lawn, which some accident or disorder has rendered weaker than the other nestlings, receiving the constant attentions of its mother, who hovered near it, and evidently brought food to it oftener than she did to her other young ones. I have noticed the same in a weakly fawn. When I resided on the border of Bushy Park, I had many opportunities of observing this, and other instances of the great affection which exists between a doe and her fawn. The latter when very young, hides itself amongst the fern, but on hearing the peculiar bleat of the dam, recognized from amongst many others, it quits its retreat, and is in an instant by her side. A scene of mutual affection then takes place. The fawn rubs its head against the shoulder of its mother. The mother licks the fawn, then satisfies its hunger, and turns round and looks at it with an affection which cannot be mistaken.

Throughout nearly the whole of the animal creation, the care of rearing, feeding and protecting the young devolves on the female. She it is who hatches the young brood, and fosters them under her wings. In some cases, her indefatigable exertions procure the necessary supply of food. In others her milk nourishes them; but the same love and affection is to be found in all. The Whale, amidst its agonies of pain and

death, is said to attend to her young one with the utmost anxiety to the last moment of her life. If the young whale has been wounded by the harpoon, after the mother has eluded it, the latter then becomes an easy prey to the whalers, as it is well known that nothing will induce her to desert her offspring: so strong is female affection.

I am furnished with another instance of this in my immediate neighbourhood. A number of school-boys, attended by their master, were wandering about the Great Park of Windsor, when one of them discovered a Black-bird's nest, with young ones in it, at some distance beyond the top of the Long Walk. He immediately made prize of it, and was conveying it homewards, when the cries of their young were heard by the old birds. Notwithstanding the presence and noise of so many boys, they did not desert their helpless offspring, but kept near them, for a distance of about three miles, flying from tree to tree, and uttering those distressed and wailing notes which are so peculiar in the black-bird. This circumstance induced the boy to place the young birds in a cage, and he hung it outside of the house, which was close to the town of Windsor. Here they were fed regularly by their parents. As they grew up, the boy sold first one and then another, as he was able to procure customers for them, until

they were all disposed of. The morning after the last bird was sold, the female black-bird was found dead beneath the cage in which her beloved offspring had been confined, as if she had been unable to survive their loss. So strong indeed is the attachment of these birds for their young, that a boy was struck violently on the head by one of them, while he had a young blackbird in his hand, which he was taking from a nest.

It

The affection of animals is not confined entirely to their kind and offspring. A clergyman informed me, that when he resided at Cambridge, he had a young Stock-dove given to him, which soon became extremely attached to him. roosted in an open cage in his hall, and always recognized, with great joy, his ring at the housebell. As he had long journies to make, it was often late at night when he reached home. On these occasions, the instant he rang the bell, the bird would descend from its cage, run along the hall with extended and quivering wings, hop upon his shoulder, cooing, and fondling him with its wings, and exhibiting the utmost pleasure and delight.

There is a bird who by his coat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow;

A great frequenter of the church,
Where bishop-like he finds a perch
And dormitory too.

Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
Much of the vanities of men,

And, sick of having seen them,
Would cheerfully these limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,

And such a head between them.

Cowper.

WHEN Conversing, as I frequently do, with a variety of persons on the subject of Natural History, I almost invariably find, that whenever the reasoning faculty of animals is brought forward as a matter of discussion, there is either an incredulous smile, or a disbelief expressed of the fact that any thing approaching to reason can be found in animals. As many proofs however to the contrary have been sent to me, and as I have witnessed not a few myself, I shall mention some of them. I am at the same time aware that such is the feeling of superiority with which we regard ourselves, that we are but little inclined to allow

even a portion of reason to any creature below us in the scale of creation. Yet that something approaching to it is to be found in animals cannot by me be doubted. The following curious and interesting fact, seen by many in this neighbourhood is the first proof I will bring forward.

A friend called upon me on the 11th day of last May, and asked me to accompany him to Eton College to see a curious bird's nest. We accordingly proceeded thither, and, having passed through the beautiful Chapel attached to that College, ascended the winding steps of the bell-tower or turret of the chapel. After getting to a considerable height, any further progress was stopped by a sort of pillar built of sticks. The staircase was sufficiently lighted to afford complete observation of the proceedings of the birds, which I will now endeavour accurately to describe.

On the ledge of one of the narrow apertures for the admission of light, a pair of jackdaws had built their nest. The ledge however was so narrow, that the nest had evidently an inclination inwards, and would probably without some support have fallen down upon the steps below. In order to obviate this difficulty, they contrived the following ingenious method of supporting the nest. As the staircase was a spiral one, the birds began to make a pillar of sticks on that identical