mother-Skylark appears to be most devoted to her progeny, and will peril her own life in defence of theirs. During the time she is hatching, her husband keeps in the closest attendance upon her, and though at other times timid, will fight off any other bird, except the hawk, that may come with possibly evil intentions into the

neighbourhood of his domestic treasures. An instance of the Skylark's maternal courage and tenderness is recorded, in which a party of mowers had actually shaved off the edge of the nest without driving the mother-Lark from her place over her young ones. Some time after the grass had been mowed down all about her nest, it was discovered that she had formed a new shelter for it by constructing a dome of dry grass over it, leaving an opening on one side for exit and entrance. Skylarks have been known to move their eggs to more secure spots; and there are several touching

stories told of their removing their young ones out of the way of apprehended danger. One pair of Skylarks were seen to move their young on the approach of mowers. The father-Lark took one of the newly-hatched birds, and after a while succeeded in placing it on the back of the motherLark, who flew away with it. This feat was repeated by the parent Larks in turn, until their whole brood was removed to a place of safety. In another instance, the attempt to remove a young one was unsuccessful, the parent Lark not being strong enough, and therefore obliged to drop her burthen from a height of thirty or forty feet, the poor little thing being of course killed. A very curious and interesting story is told of a Skylark which, to escape from imminent danger, actually placed himself under human protection. A gentleman, riding along a road in Northamptonshire, was surprised to see a Skylark drop from the air on to the pommel of his saddle as if it were stricken with death, its wings spread wide, and its whole action that of cowering terror. The gentleman tried to take hold of it, but it immediately shifted its position, and at last dropped to the ground under the horse's legs. On looking up, the gentleman saw that a hawk was hovering over his head. The Skylark a second time mounted upon the saddle, and then, seizing the opportunity of a moment when the hawk shifted its position, flew into a hedge and was in safety. Talking of the Skylark's affection for her young reminds me of several instances of affection shown by other birds. The Blue-tit-little as she is-is most courageous in defence of her young; and when she has chosen a spot for building her nest is not easily driven from it. One of these birds, who had built her nest in a small box that hung against the wall of an out-house,

BIRDS AND THEIR YOUNG.

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would sit quite firmly on her eggs while the box was taken down for examination. A pair of swans, who had been devoted to each other for three years, were separated by the death of the husband-swan: the wife long retained a remembrance of her lost partner, and would suffer no other swan to pay his addresses to her. A male pigeon having been shot in a field, and his body hung upon a stake as a warning to other winged grain-stealers, his mate discovered him, and exhibited most touching signs of distress, for many days walking slowly round and round the stake, making a hard track in the ground with her long-continued treading, and becoming greatly exhausted from want of food. In pity to her sufferings the dead bird was removed, and she returned to the dove-cot. I have recently read of a hen who refused to bring up a brood of Guinea fowls, after she had hatched the eggs from which they had been produced the little fledglings were thereupon taken under the protection of a Dorking cock, who tended them with all possible care. When the time for roosting came, and the little Guinea fowls found they could not reach their perch, their protector would place himself in such a position that they could mount, one after the other, upon his back, and would then fly up with them, and settle them in their sleeping-place. Another instance which I remember of the devotion of a male bird when the female has neglected her duty, is that of a pair of emus belonging to the Zoological Society. The mother-emu laid nine eggs at different times and in different parts of the enclosure in which she was kept; the husband collected all these into one spot, rolling each one with his beak carefully over the ground. He afterwards sat upon these eggs for nine weeks, during which time he was never seen to quit them, his

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wife appearing to take no interest in what he was doing for her. At length the eggs were hatched, and the young brood were afterwards tended with the greatest care by their devoted parent. To return to the Skylark, he is the favourite bird of English poets, and this is what Wordsworth-one out of the crowd of sweet singers-has sung about him:

"Etherial minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky!

Dost thou despise the earth, where cares abound?
Or, while thy wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest, which thou dost drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still.
"To the last point of vision, and beyond,

Mount, daring warbler! That love-prompted strain
("Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond)
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain!
Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege, to sing
All independent of the leafy spring.

Leave to the nightingale the shady wood-
A privacy of glorious light is thine,
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony with rapture more divine.
Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam,

True to the kindred points of heaven and home.'

Perhaps the noblest song that has yet been sung to the Skylark is Shelley's famous ode: read it whenever you get an opportunity, and, meanwhile, learn this by heart from Shakespeare's 'Cymbeline :'

"Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;

SPIDERS.

And winking marybuds begin
To ope their golden eyes ;

With everything that pretty bin
My lady sweet, arise.

Arise, arise!""

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An uneasy start on the part of Ned showed us that something had suddenly gone wrong.

"See if there's a spider on me!" he cried; "I don't know whether I knocked the brute off my jacket. Spiders are beastly things; I can't bear 'em to come on me!"

"Don't be alarmed, Ned," said Frank, "there's no Spider on you now; but if there were, he would not be likely to do you any harm—not like some of the great hairy monsters that live in hot climates, the Bird-catching Spider, for example, with a body three inches long, and legs as thick as goose-quills, terminated each with two sharp claws, and stretching over a space of eight or ten inches!"

Ned gave a shudder, and Bob, I am sure, sympathized with his repugnance.

"We have no such terrible insects in England," continued Frank; "but what Spiders we have are well worth closely observing. The one with which we are most familiar-the common Garden Spider-is a most interesting little creature. We have nothing to do-in the way of objection, that is—with the life of rapacity which he leads, because we know nothing of the ends for which he has been created; we have only to take him as he is, and to shake out of our minds any prejudice that may make him repugnant to us without good reason. If we do not interfere with the Garden Spider he will not interfere with us, at least, not in a pugnacious sense. The general form of the Garden Spider is known to everybody; so is the form