present very uncomfortable situation. "The Lord preserve us, what's a' this?—what's this ?—what's this? It's surely a judgment come upon me for drinkin' illicit whisky and singin' profane sangs. O dear! O dear! O meeserable sinner that I am, I'll surely get my paiks noo, for I verily believe that Auld Clootie himsel', and a' his imps are playing their cantraips upon me. Will nae charitable Christian lend me a hand to get out o' this damnable brulziement ?—the Lord forgie me for sweerin'. O, Maister Charles! O, Heels, ye black-a-vic'd pagan Oh! oh! oh!" and the unfortunate Doctor roared aloud, in agony of spirit, as he scrambled about, amongst the broken fragments of bottles and glasses, and entangled himself more and more amongst the complicated folds of wet canvas in which he was enveloped. ! Mansfield and Charles, who had their wits about them, had already scrambled clear of the wreck, but were so convulsed with laughter, that, for some minutes, they were incapable of rendering any aid to the miserable Doctor, who continued to struggle, and howl, and pant for breath, like a dog tied up in a wet sack. At length, however, with the assistance of the Lascars, he was extricated from the ruins of the tent, and stood, shivering and stupified, in the pelting rain. "Preserve me! but this is an awfu' nicht," muttered he to himself, when he had partially recovered his senses; "there's something no cannie in't, I'm thinkin'. I'll awa to my bed-and the bottle o' Glenlivet no half finished-and me in the middle o' my very best sang-and -and-and-Ou ay, I see how it is-I see fine how it is-it's just a judgment on me for drinkin' illicit whisky and singin' profane sangs, poor sinfu' creature that I am! But thanks be to Goodness I'm no fou. Na, na! I'm no fou-I ken the road to my tent fine." And so the Doctor continued to soliloquise, as he reeled about in his vain endeavours to steer a direct course to his own tent. By mine honour, friend Macphee, thou art thankful for small mercies," cried Mansfield, laughing immoderately at the worthy Doctor's expression of thankfulness for not being fou. "But there's surely something gaen wrang wi' my legs the nicht-I maun hae hurted them some way in yon stramash. Here, Heels, my man, gie us a haud o' your airm, for I'm sair hurted, and no fit to gang my lane. Haud up, ye stammerin' deevle," cried he, clutching the grinning varlet by the shoulder. "Can ye no walk steady, you mislear'd pagan? Haud up, I say. Ye've been drinkin', Sir-ye've been drinkin'-ye needna try to deceive me-I ken it fine by the way ye walk-ye've been drinkin', ye besotted beast. I'll report you to your maister in the morning, and gar him gie you a good thrashing. I—I— I wonder, Sir, ye're no ashamed to make sic a spectacle o' yoursel' and me in the face o' the hale camp. It's dis--dis-dis-reputable, Heels -it's highly disreputable. If there's a vice on earth, Heels, that I dislike mair than anither, it's drunk-drunk-drunkenness !" And here the Doctor's voice became inaudible, as he pursued his tortuous course towards his sleeping tent. We are, reluctantly, obliged to confess that our worthy and much respected friend, Macphee, was drunk-not exactly drunk according to the definition given by an Irish friend of ours, who said that he always considered a man sober till he saw him trying to light his pipe at the pump; the Doctor was not quite so far gone as this; but that he was considerably disguised in liquor we have not the conscience to deny. Reader, hast thou ever, in the course of thy travels, witnessed the breaking-up of a tropical thunder-storm at the approach of day, when the eastern sky is streaked with purple and gold, and the heavens, in that quarter, are cloudless to the zenith, and studded with fading stars winking as if exhausted by their long night's vigil-and the cool, balmy, morning air, kisses thy bronzed cheek like a smiling infant just awakened from sleep-and the tempest-torn trees, loaded with sparkling rain-drops, like frightened women smiling through their tears, sigh forth their gratitude to the rising sun, at whose glorious presence the gloomy spirit of the storm unwillingly retires his sable host, as they roll away, slow and majestic, into the far west, growling forth their indignation in muttered thunder-and the refreshed earth sends up a grateful incense to Heaven-and the timid birds who have all night long cowered, trembling, amidst the gloomy recesses of the forest, come forth singing their morning-hymn of thanksgiving-and the junglecock, like a blustering bully, struts amongst his admiring females, crowing defiance—and, on the naked branches of some blasted tree, at the edge of the forest, a family of vultures, like a hoard of wandering gipsies drying their rags, sit, with drooping wings, preparing to bask themselves in the grateful sunshine-their high shoulders, downcast look, and ruffled plumage giving them, at once, an air of poverty, cunning, and abject humility-and, from out the bosky thickets of feathery bamboo, comes, stealing on the ear, the gentle cooing of the turtle-dove, as he pours forth his very soul in amorous vows of love and constancy-and the air is filled with joyous insects, and gaudy-coloured butterflies, which have been suddenly called into life by the electric fluid-and even the creeping things appear to claim their share of enjoyment-and Nature smiles as she looks upon the happiness of her children ?—It was on such a glorious morning as this, after a wet night, in every sense of the word, that the cheerful notes of Mansfield's bugle roused the poor Doctor from feverish sleep and troubled dreams, to the humiliating consciousness of having made a beast of himself. What a sad contrast does his flushed cheek, and parched lips, and fevered blood, present to the cool, fresh, smiling face of Nature! Oh man! proud man! thou who wert formed in God's own image, how hast thou degraded thyself by the sensual gratification of thy appetites! But, of this day's adventures, anon. (To be continued.) KOONDAH. RECREATIONS IN NATURAL HISTORY.-NO. VII. SINGING BIRDS-RESIDENTS. "Within the bush, her covert nest The dew sat chilly on her breast, Sae early in the morning."-BURNS. No: every green thing has not been sacrificed to the Frost-Genius. Nights, rivalling the Iron Nights of the Swedish calendar, have, indeed, done their work; and it may be doubted whether the horticulturist has had so much cause for lamentation since the "Black Spring" of 1771. Numbers are mourning their dead rhododendrons, azalias, and magnolias, and not a few have to sigh over their withered bays, to say nothing of laurustinuses and roses :-even the hardy holly has, in some places, perished in its death-struggle with the weather. The determined lingering of winter in the lap of spring seems to have checked every effort of vegetable life, producing one of the most backward seasons remembered. This has had its effect upon the Singing Birds; for, as the food of their nestlings consists almost entirely of caterpillars and of insects generally in the early stages of development, or of worms and slugs, all of which depend upon plants for subsistence, their song, and incubation-there have been exceptions, doubtless--are late this year. We saw one instance of the ravenous eagerness with which the half-starved creatures attacked and made prey of some of the first flowers that dared to show themselves. On a fine sunny morning after the first of the one or two comparatively warm nights that came in March, the garden, which, on the preceding day had " made no sign," was bright with crocuses-every one of which the birds devoured or destroyed before noon. Of all the British resident Song-birds, the Merulidæ are the most remarkable for the strength of their vocal powers, and the first of this family that claims our attention, for it is a brumal as well as an early vernal songster, is a very curious bird, not uncommon in some localities, but extremely rare in others, concerning which much of the marvellous has been written. If we are to believe some authors, the Water-Ouzel, Water Blackbird, or Dipper,* Der Wasserschwätzer of the Germans, Merle d'eau of the French, and Tordo del agua of the Spaniards, deliberately descends into the water, and walks about on the bottom of the stream with the same ease and complacency as if it were stepping on the dry land. Now, to say nothing of that extremely impracticable law of which we are reminded every hour of the day, and more especially "when china falls," the structure of the bird itself is not adapted for such a feat; and though we have no doubt of its subaqueous habits, which have food more than frolic for their object, we are more than sceptical as to its pedestrian performances in such a situation. Mr. Macgillivray, who writes as none can write who have not beheld what they write about, informs us that he has seen the Dipper moving under *Cinclus aquaticus-Turdus Cinclus of Linnæus. water in situations where he could observe it with certainty, and he found that its actions were precisely similar to those of the Divers, Mergansers, and Cormorants, which he had often watched from an eminence as they pursued the shoals of sand-eels along the shores of the Hebrides. It, in fact, flew; not merely employing the wing from the carpal joint, but extending it considerably, and availing itself of the whole expanse, just as it would have done, if it had been moving in the air. The general direction of the body was obliquely downwards; and great force was evidently used to counteract the effect of gravity, the bird finding it difficult to keep itself at the bottom. Mr. Macgillivray remarks that Colonel Montagu well describes the appearance which it presents under such circumstances; and the former goes on to state that, in one or two instances where he has been able to perceive it under water, it appeared to tumble about in a very extraordinary manner, with its head downwards, as if pecking something, and at the same time great exertion of both wings and legs was used. The bird was, we doubt not, at this time capturing the fresh-water mollusca and insect-larvæ which form its principal aliment. When searching for food, the Dipper, according to Mr. Macgillivray, does not proceed to great distances under water; but, alighting on some spot, sinks, and soon reappears in the immediate neighbourhood, when it either dives again, or rises on the wing to drop somewhere else on the water, or to settle on an insulated stone in the midst of the brook. The same ornithologist broadly, and, as we believe, truly, states that the assertion of its walking below the surface, which some persons have ventured, is neither made good by observation nor countenanced by reason. Its short legs, and long, curved claws are, as he says, very ill adapted for running, but admirably calculated for securing a steady footing on slippery stones, whether above or beneath the surface of the water. The sonorous song of this extraordinary bird startles the ear as it comes mingled with the hoarse tones of the torrent, or the rushing of the wintry waterfall, sometimes in the midst of a snow-storm. Mr. Rennie, who remarks that it is one of the few birds that are vocal so early in the year as the months of January and February, heard it on the 11th of the latter month in a hard frost, when the thermometer in the morning had been at 26°, sing incessantly in a powerful and elegant style, with much variation in the notes, many of which were peculiar to itself, intermingled with a little of the piping of the Woodlark. The day was bright, whilst it was singing, but it was freezing in the shade; and the sun, which had considerably passed the meridian, was obscured from the songster by the lofty surrounding hills. The same author declares that the Dipper consumes a considerable quantity of fishes' spawn, and, especially, of the ova of the salmon. Bechstein, who also notices its winter music, alleges that it sings, moreover, in the night. The nest is as curious as the bird that makes it. In shape it a good deal resembles that of a Wren, having a dome or roof, but it is not so deep. Externally it is formed of water-plants, or closely-interwoven moss within there is a lining of dry leaves. The access to the hollow chamber is through an aperture in the side. It is often placed in some mossy bank overhanging the stream, "Where the lady-fern grows longest ;" and has been detected under a projecting stone forming part of a cascade, and behind a sheet of falling water. Through this liquid. glassy curtain the bird darted to its home. The eggs, from four to six in number, are white, and pointed at the end; and, wherever the nest is placed, such care is taken by the old birds to assimilate its hues to those of the locality, that, large as it is, the most acute eye is often unable to detect it. There is an excellent vignette of the Dipper's nest in Mr. Yarrell's delightful "History of British Birds."* This Water Blackbird is not uncommon in Scotland, nor in the North and West of England. In Wales and Ireland it frequently occurs. Mr. Yarrell mentions one which was seen at a water-mill, near Wyrardisbury, on the Colne, about two or three hundred yards above the place at which that river falls into the Thames, just below Bell Weir, well known to the angler who goes after the great trouts. The bird, he adds, has also been seen on the Mole, near Esher, and in Essex; but it is seldom found in the counties near London. Next in order comes the Missel Thrush,† la Draine of the French, and Misteldrossel of the Germans. Perched on the top of the yet leafless tree, he pours forth his loud and often-repeated strain of melancholy, but musical cadences, "While rocking winds are piping loud," amid all the meteoric rudeness of February. The advent of the storm is hailed by him in notes of more than ordinary power; and so remarkable is this habit, that it has obtained for the bird, in many counties, the name of Storm Cock. Self-possessed and daring, this, one of the largest of the British Thrushes, will suffer hardly any animal to approach its haunts during the season of incubation: hence the Welsh call him Pen y llwyn, the head or master of the coppice: for he will not tolerate the presence of any thievish Magpie, Jay, or Crow, but drives them from the spot with loud cries. So pugnacious are both the sexes at this period, that the hen bird has been known to fly at the face of man when he has disturbed her while sitting. White acknowledges the success with which the Missel Thrush frequently repels the invader; but he once saw in his garden at Selborne a sad exception to the general rule. Several Magpies came down in a body, determined to storm the nest of the poor Missel Thrushes, who "defended their mansion with great vigour, and fought resolutely pro aris et focis; but numbers at last vailed; they tore the nest to pieces, and swallowed the young alive." pre The food of the Missel Thrush consists of slugs, worms, insects, &c., with no small addition of berries, among which that of the misseltoe (whence its name) is a decided favourite. The nest, which is begun in April, is generally placed in the fork of a tree, sometimes carefully concealed, but, at others, remarkably exposed: it presents externally a mass of coarse stems of plants, moss, withered grasses, and lichens. Within, it is stuccoed with mud or clay, which is again lined with delicate dry grasses, on which are laid four or five eggs more than an inch long, generally of a greenish white spotted with ruddy brown, but the colour occasionally varies to pinkish or reddish white mottled with dark red-brown hues. The bird, though plentiful nowhere, is not uncommon anywhere in Britain, and is to be found in most of the counties near the metropolis: we have seen and heard it frequently at Fulham. * 8vo. London. Van Voorst. Now in the course of publication. Turdus viscivorus. |