PARTS OF A FEATHER.

no difficulty will arise; but press it in the direction of its greatest width, and it will resist the effort. And here is design; the impulse of the air occurs just where the feather does not yield. It wants strength here, and here it has it.

The resistance too is given, remarkably indeed, by a number of fibres or threads. They appear united;

The

but by what means? No glutinous substance can be detected. microscope reveals the secret. On the margin of these threads are fibrils, fitted to unite together, something like as many hooks and eyes. A thousand of these have been counted in the space of an inch. They are of two kinds: one being branched or tufted, and bending downwards; while the others do not divide into branches, and are directed upwards. They act like ther. (Example, Common the fingers when the hands are quill, greatly magnified.) clasped together.

The close texture of the vane arises from this interlacing of these threads. When, too, after being separated by accident or force, they are again brought together,

THE PART FIRST WANTED FIRST PRODUCED.

they reunite at once, and the vane is as smooth and firm as it was before. Draw your finger down the feather, against the grain, and perhaps some of the threads will be broken off; but if it be drawn the other way, all of them will appear in order.

It is worthy of remark, that the part of the plumage first wanted by the bird is the earliest produced. Thus, in some cases, wings are not needed so soon as clothing, and hence the coat of down precedes the means of flight. No sooner is a young partridge hatched, than it runs off to pick up what gamekeepers call emmets' eggs, properly the pupæ, or chrysalises of the ant, which the parent bird scratches up for her brood from the earth. It is not necessary that the partridge should fly for some time; and accordingly, from the first, the body is defended by a close-set downy covering, while all the strength of the bird is given to the parts in use, the thighs, legs, neck, and bill. The wings are afterwards gradually formed.

A contrast to this appears in the case of a black bird or thrush. The little songster of the woods must fly as soon as it leaves the nest; and hence, while its body shows only a few scattered bunches of weak, downy, hair-like feathers, the quills and other wing-feathers are rapidly formed.

HEAD AND NECK OF THE VULTURE.

The feathers of birds are always exactly suited to the circumstances in which they are placed. The vulture, for instance, has been called one of the scavengers of creation. It lives in regions where the largest animals abound, where death is frequent, and where putridity speedily follows, filling the air with pestilence. Most important is it, therefore, that the masses of dead matter should be speedily removed; and for this provision is made. On the death of an animal, though not a wing should be visible in the sky, yet with incredible swiftness multitudes of vultures are gathered together from various parts. Now begins the attack, and it continues till only the bones of the carcass are left, to be borne away in the night by hyenas and jackals. Other cases might be mentioned in which the vulture is of equal service. All this is provided for in the structure of its head and neck. Often buried as they are in a putrid mass, had these parts been covered with feathers, the bird would have been greatly inconvenienced; and so there are none. Even the skin on the breast is more or less bare, and at most is covered with down, or short close feathers.

How remarkable are the feathers that form the long train of the peacock! Here is a star painted on a great number of small feathers, all beautifully arranged as

FEATHER OF THE PEACOCK.

they have found their way from the root. Not the slightest error of pattern or arrangement can be detected, even among more millions of feathers than fancy could conceive.

Wonderful as the whole picture is, its parts will appear still more so. Taking one-half of the star, the places and proportions of the several colours differ from those of the other half, as do their lengths and obliquities; yet a single picture is produced, including ten outlines, which

form also many irregular yet unvarying curves. Still further, there is a perfect correspondence in the two halves; not from the texture of either being first formed, and receiving a complicated picture; on the contrary, each fibre takes its place ready painted, yet never failing to produce the pattern. Nor is this all: every annual renewal of this picture is equally accurate, as it

THE HUMMING-BIRD.

has been in every peacock from the creation of the world. Well may the question be proposed, "Gavest thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks?" Well may we pause, filled with admiration at such a display of power-a power no less than that of God.

A structure so wonderful and delicate as the feathery garment of birds, is preserved in its comfort and beauty by an instinct not a little remarkable. Soon after the nestling opens its eyes, even while the feathers have not replaced its first covering of down, it may be seen turning its head, and going over with its bill all the little bits of its garment, and the ends of all the sprouting feathers it can reach. It displays the same care throughout its future career. The instant any of the feathers of the bird are soiled, it sets about trimming them, perhaps from the uncomfortable feeling produced. Thus nibbling its plumes, it soon frees them from any incumbrance, and places them all in their proper position.

The ruby-throated humming-bird, as it settles on twigs or branches, frequently opens and closes its wings, pluming, stroking, and arranging the whole of its brilliant apparel with neatness and activity. It is particularly fond of spreading one wing at a time, and passing each of the quill-feathers in its whole length through