ORDER PASSERES.

The Woodlark.

Alauda Lulu.-CUVIER.

Alauda Arborea.-LINN.

WHILE the skylarks delight in the open fields, and fear not that the winds of heaven will visit them too roughly, the woodlarks, on the contrary, seek the pleasant shelter of the wood-side, and pour forth their songs from beneath its shade; they often sing also on the wing like the skylark. It is not only during the bright hours of day that their strains resound; at set of sun, and even far into the night, in hot summer weather, they are heard singing in the air.

"What time the timorous hare limps forth to feed,
When the scared owl skims round the grassy mead;
Then high in air, and poised upon his wings,
Unseen the soft enamoured woodlark sings."

These birds are found in Siberia, Poland, Germany, Holland, Italy, parts of France and Spain, and in England. Early in the spring we hear them warbling together in great numbers ; as the season advances, their songs become more full and sweet, and they pair, and separate,

and build their nests. Then it is that the woodlark, seated on a tree near his mate, pours forth his most delightful songs. As soon as the young ones come out of the shell, he engages busily with the mother-bird in providing for their wants. The nest is made on the ground, in furrows, covered with grass and brambles, and usually on the borders of a wood. But it is only in spring, summer, and autumn, that the woodlarks are to be found in these retreats. At the close of Autumn, they quit these summer haunts, and retire into the open stoney fields; here they assemble in flocks of from thirty to fifty in number, never mingling with any other species. Their summer songs are then no longer heard, and they utter only a plaintive sort of cry, resembling the syllables lu-lu, from whence they derive the name given them by the French naturalists.

THE WOODLARK.

Dost thou love to hear the song-birds of spring?
Are their notes as voices of joy to thee?—
Then fly to the grove where the woodlarks sing,
Rejoicing once more in their vernal glee.
The spring time is come, the winter is past,

And the woodlarks' songs are cheerful once more:

Their sorrows have fled with the wintry blast,

And soft-flowing lays through the woodlands they pour; Forgetful how lately the winter wind blew,

And they sung the sad notes of their plaintive lu-lu.

With kindred and clan they mingle the strain,
And love by the birds of their race to abide ;
And they come to their forest haunts again,

To build their low nests by the green hill side.
When the stormy winds unroof their retreat,
And wither the wreaths of their summer bowers,
Then afar in the valley the wanderers meet,

And seek to beguile the sad wintry hours.

While chilled by the night wind, and bathed by the dew,
They chaunt in soft concert their plaintive lu-lu.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Sparrow.

Fringilla domestica.-LINN.

THE most bold and mischievous of the feathered tribe in this country, is the sparrow. Invited or uninvited he heeds not, but freely takes his station in our fields, our gardens, our yards, and under the eaves of our houses. Sometimes he even dislodges the martin from his clay cottage, built with so much labour, coolly taking up his abode in the usurped tenement, and rearing there his young, as if it had descended to him by hereditary right, and been

the home of his fathers, and the cradle of his infancy. In the winter, when we scatter crumbs for robins and other woodland favourites, whose usual resources have failed them in their hour of need, the sparrows come unbidden to the banquet, and too often possess themselves of the greater portion of the feast spread for others. At all seasons they are ever at hand. In the fields they devour the grain; in the gardens and orchards they attack the fruit; in the farm-yard they rob the wheat-rick, and share the provisions of the poultry. At the same time, there is in their air and carriage an appearance of audacity, which is sometimes almost provoking, and at other times exceedingly amusing. To give them their due portion of praise, they certainly do benefit us by destroying an immense number of caterpillars; but on the other hand they devour grain in such enormous quantities, as seems far more than an equivalent for the service they do us in the destruction of insects. A French writer on rural economy, has calculated that the grain consumed by sparrows in France annually, is worth ten millions of franks. We cannot therefore wonder that farmers and gardeners wage perpetual warfare with these pilferers. Indeed, there are few persons who are disposed to grant them protection, for while they render themselves ob

noxious by their depredations, they have no sweet voice of song to plead in their behalf, as many of the fringilla tribe have, especially the goldfinch. The sparrow has only a short chirping note, which is not sufficiently musical to recommend him to our notice. Yet he is not without some beauty of plumage, when his colours are not dimmed by the smoke and dirt of the city, where he seems as happily and as easily to make his home, as in the country; he has, too, something better than mere appearance to claim our attention. Notwithstanding all the evil we have said of him, he is quite a model of parental tenderness, as the following interesting anecdote will prove. We shall relate the story in the words of Mr. Smellic, under whose observation the circumstances it details occurred.

"When I was a boy," says that gentleman, "I carried off a nest of young sparrows, about a mile from my place of residence. After the nest was completely moved, and while I was marching home with them in triumph, I perceived, with some degree of astonishment, both the parents following me at some distance, and observing all my motions in perfect silence. A thought then struck me that they might follow me home, and feed the young according to their usual manner. When just entering the door