in the evening, being frequently flitting about when the owl and bat are visible, and awakes so soon in the morning, that little rest seems required by it.-The cheerful melody of the wren is the next we hear, as it bustles from its ivied roost, and we note its gratulation to the young-eyed day, when twilight almost hides the little minstrel from our sight.-The sparrow roosts in holes, and under the eaves of the rick or shed, where the light does not so soon enter, and hence is rather a tardy mover. It retires early to rest.-The blackbird quits its leafy roost in the ivied ash; its chink-chink is heard in the hedge; and mounting on some neighbouring oak, with mellow sober voice, it gratulates the coming day. 'The plain-song cuckoo grey,' from some tall tree now tells its tale. The lark is in the air, and the 'martin twitters from her earth-built shed,' all the choristers are tuning in the grove; and amid such tokens of awakening pleasure, it becomes difficult to note priority of voice. These are the matin-voices of the Summer season: in Winter a cheerless chirp, or a hungry twit, is all we hear; the families of voice are away, or silent; we have little to note, and perhaps as little inclination to observe."

TO THE TURTLE-DOVE.

DEEP in the wood, thy voice I list, and love
Thy soft complaining song,-thy tender cooing;
O what a winning way thou hast of wooing!
Gentlest of all thy race-sweet Turtle-dove.
Thine is a note that doth not pass away,
Like the light music of a Summer's day!
The merle may trill his richest song in vain-
Scarce do we say, "List, for he pipes again,'
But thou that low plaint oft and oft repeating
To the coy-mate that needs so much entreating—
Fillest the woods with a discursive song
Of love, that sinketh deep, and resteth long,—
Hushing the voice of mirth and staying folly,-
And waking in the heart a gentle melancholy.

D. CONWAY.

The note of this elegant species, Columba Turtur, is singularly tender and plaintive in addressing his mate, the male makes use of a variety of winning attitudes, cooing at the same time in the most gentle and soothing accents: on which account the Turtle-dove has been represented in all ages, as the most perfect emblem of connubial attachment and constancy."-Bewick.

From Mrs. C. Smith's beautiful poem of the Truant Dove, we quote the following lines, being descriptive of this bird :

O my dear love! you sought not then to range,
But on my changeful neck as fell the light,
You sweetly said, you wish'd no other change
Than that soft neck could show; to berries bright

Of mountain ash, you fondly could compare
My scarlet feet and bill; my shape and air,
Ah! faithless flatterer, did you not declare
The soul of grace and beauty centred there?
My eyes you said were opals, brightly pink,
Enchas'd in onyx; and you seem'd to think,
Each charm might then the coldest heart enthrall:

Those charms were mine. Alas! I gave them all,-&c. &c.

THE TULIP.

'Tis beautiful, most beautiful! most splendidly it shines,
Rich in its glowing colours, and its softly pencill'd lines;
Most lavishly doth Nature in gay profusion shower

Her gifts of gorgeous beauty, on this bright and stately flower,
But scentless is this lustre, and soon beneath the sway
Of Summer's warm dominion, it will wither and decay:
And then we seek those lowly flowers, which leave a balmy
breath,

Of sweet and innate fragrance, when their leaves are clos'd in death.

When frowning o'er the sultry sky, the thunder cloud is shed, Beneath the storm and gushing shower the tulip hangs its head,

While from the wild blue violet, or sweet Egyptian weed,

A fresher burst of fragrance to its fury will succeed.

So the innate worth of soul, and the loveliness of mind,
Are better far than outward beauty, fashion, grace combin'd:
The step of time, the hand of care, the last will soon efface,
But the memory of the first, e'en death will not erase.

S. H.

The Tulip was introduced from the eastern part of the globe, and derives its name from a Persian word, which signifies a turban. It is well known that the Tulip became, about the year 1635, the object of a trade unparalleled in the history of commercial speculation. All the great cities of Holland became infected with this Tulipomania, and the evil rose to such a pitch, that the Dutch authorities were at length under the necessity of interfering to prevent this species of gambling. See an amusing paper on this subject in the Tatler: No. 218.

Enrich'd among its spines with golden flowers,
Scents the keen air; while all its thorny groups
Wide scatter'd o'er the waste are full of life;
For 'midst its yellow bloom, the assembled Chats
Wave high the tremulous wing, and with shrill notes,
But clear and pleasant, cheer the extensive heath.
Linnets in numerous flocks frequent it too,
And bashful, hiding in the scenes remote
From his congeners (they who make the woods
And the thick copses echo to their song ;)
The Stonechat makes his domicile; and while
His patient mate with downy bosom warms
Their future nestlings, he his love-lay sings,
Loud to the shaggy wild. The Erica here,
That o'er the Caledonian hills sublime,

Spreads its dark mantle, (where the bees delight
To seek their purest honey) flourishes,
Sometimes with bells like amethysts, and then
Paler, and shaded like the maiden's cheek
With gradual blushes; other while as white
As rime that hangs upon the frozen spray.

MRS. C. SMITH.

TO A HEDGE-HOG;

SEEN IN A FREQUENTED PATH.

WHEREFORE should man, or thoughtless boy
Thy quiet harmless life destroy,
Innoxious urchin ?-for thy food

Is but the beetle and the fly,
And all thy harmless luxury

The swarming insects of the wood.

Should man, to whom his God has given
Reason, the brightest ray of heaven,
Delight to hurt, in senseless mirth,
Inferior animals ?-and dare

To use his power in waging war
Against his brethren of the earth?

Poor creature! to the woods resort,
Lest, lingering here, inhuman sport
Should render vain thy thorny case;
And whelming water, deep and cold,
Make thee thy spiny ball unfold,
And show thy simple negro face!

MRS. C. SMITH.

"When we consider how many creatures of superstitious dread or veneration, and what multitudes, even in this enlightened age and country, are sacrificed annually to mistaken notions of their mischievous properties, reason and humanity are alike shocked; and we deeply deplore the prevalence of errors

which the zealous promulgation of more correct ideas and liberal sentiments can alone effectually remedy. That useful bird, the White Owl, which, on account of the great number of mice it destroys, ought to be carefully protected by the farmer, is frequently looked upon with terror as a forerunner of death, which it is supposed to announce by its loud and dissonant screams; and a small coleopterous insect, the Anobium tessellatum of entomologists, has obtained the appellation of Death-Watch, from a fancied connexion between the ticking sound it produces, and that awful event. The Raven and Magpie are imagined by persons of weak intellects and timid dispositions, to prognosticate evil; and this notion has been extended and perpetuated by the allusions made to it in numerous legendary tales, and in the writings of our Poets. To take away the life of a Swallow or Martin, or to disturb their nests, is regarded as an unlucky event, portending disaster to the unfeeling aggressor; and the Redbreast and Wren owe much of their security to popular prepossessions, equally without any rational foundation. Many birds, which subsist entirely on insects, as the Cuckoo, Redstart, and Flycatcher, are shot by ignorant gardeners and nurserymen, indiscriminately with those species which feed principally on the seeds of plants and other vegetable productions. The Goatsucker and Hedge-hog are falsely accused of sucking the teats of animals, and a price, usually paid out of the parish rates, is still given for the latter in many parts of England; and those beautiful and harmless reptiles, the Common Snake and Blindworm, are destroyed without pity, upon the groundless supposition that they are venomous.' These are only a few instances among many, of the pernicious consequences which arise from an ignorance of Natural History."-Mr. Blackwall, on the Instinct of Birds: Edinb. Phil. Jour., vol. 14.

THE HEATH-COCK.

GooD-morrow to thy sable beak

And glossy plumage dark and sleek,
Thy crimson moon and azure eye,
Cock of the Heath, so wildly shy:
I see thee slyly cowering through
That wiry web of silver dew,
That twinkles in the morning air,
Like casements of my lady fair.

A maid there is in yonder tower,
Who peeping from her early bower,
Half shows, like thee, her simple wile,
Her braided hair and morning smile.
The rarest things with wayward will
Beneath the covert hide them still;
The rarest things to break of day
Look shortly forth and shrink away.