nearly two hours before sunset. Few pigeons were then to be seen; but a great number of persons with horses and waggons, guns and ammunition, had already established encampments on the borders. Two farmers from the vicinity of Russelsville, distant more than a hundred miles, had driven upwards of three hundred hogs to be fattened on the pigeons which were to be slaughtered. Here and there the people employed in plucking and salting what had been already procured, were seen sitting in the midst of large piles of these birds. The dung lay several inches deep, covering the whole extent of their roosting place, like a bed of snow. Many trees, two feet in diameter, I observed, were broken off at no great distance from the ground; and the branches of many of the largest and tallest had given way, as if the forest had been swept by a tornado. Everything proved to me that the number of birds resorting to this part of the forest must be immense beyond conception. As the period of their arrival approached, their foes anxiously prepared to receive them. Some were furnished with iron pots containing sulphur, others with torches of pine-knots, many with poles, and the rest with guns. The sun was lost to our view, yet not a pigeon had arrived. Everything was ready; all eyes were gazing on the clear sky, which appeared in glimpses amidst the tall trees. Suddenly there burst forth a general cry of 'Here they come!' The noise which they made, though yet distant, reminded me of a hard gale at sea passing through the rigging of a close reefed vessel. As the birds arrived and passed over me, I felt a current of air that surprised me. Thousands were soon knocked down by the pole-men. The birds continued to pour in. The fires were lighted, and a magnificent as well as wonderful and almost terrifying sight presented itself. The pigeons, arriving by thousands, alighted everywhere, one above another, until solid masses as large as hogsheads were formed on the branches all around. Here and there the perches gave way under the weight,

starlings, of ruined buildings. Though very much resembling the stock-dove, the rock-pigeon may be at once distinguished by the white colour of the rump, and by two distinct bands of bluish-black across the wings. These marks are more or less maintained through all our domestic varieties; or, indeed, if by the breeder's art they become extinct for a generation or two, they are ever ready to break out again, often to the disappointment of the fancier, whose aim seems to be to distort nature, as if such distortions were truly beautiful. These three species are permanent residents of our island, as well as of a great portion of the European continent.

The fourth species is a summer bird of passage; it is the celebrated turtle-dove (Columba turtur). This interesting species is widely disseminated, being spread not only through the middle and southern provinces of Europe, but through the greater portion of Africa and Asia. In the British Isles it is, however, limited in its places of residence. In Kent it is the most abundant, and is also tolerably common in the southern and midland counties; but it is scarce in the northern and western parts of the island. In Europe, and the adjacent parts of Asia, it appears to be universally migratory, hence "the voice of the turtle" is one of the confirmations of the return of spring, as it was in the days of Solomon. "For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land." (Song Sol. ii. 11, 12.)

The beginning of May, when nature is clad in her freshest robes of beauty, is the period in which the plaintive cooing notes of the turtle are first heard in the solitary recesses of our woods, harmonizing with the shriller melody of a thousand warblers, and adding to the soulfelt emotions which the budding of trees and the opening of flowers, the music and the odours of spring, reviving from the deathlike trance of winter, conspire to awaken. The stay of the

turtle is, however, very short: early in September, before the " sear and yellow leaf" of autumn gives token of the waning year, it takes its departure for a warmer climate.

With us it breeds only once in the season, building on the branches or among the clustering ivy of aged trees, a shallow loosely-constructed nest of sticks and twigs. The eggs are two, and of a pure white. It generally happens that several pairs, invited by the seclusion of the place (the densest part of the wood), form a sort of colony, building their nests on adjoining trees, or close together on the same. From this retreat they pay a morning and evening visit to the open cultivated fields in quest of food, grain and peas being their diet; the latter are especially relished, so that flocks of these birds are regularly to be seen going and returning to the pea-fields when the peas are ripe.

Independent of the elegance of its shape, the turtle is a most beautiful bird. In length it is about eleven inches; the tail is slightly graduated; the upper part of the head and neck is ashy grey, with a pearly tinge; the back is brown; the wing-coverts are dusky-brown in the centre, with a border on each feather of reddish-brown inclining to rufous; smaller wing-coverts grey; quill-feathers brown; tail-feathers dusky-brown, all except the two middle being tipped with white. The sides of the neck are marked by a patch of small stiff black feathers with white margins; breast bright chocolate; under-surface pure white. The young birds are destitute of the patch of peculiar feathers on the sides of the neck.

The turtle-dove has been a favourite in all ages and in all countries its innocence, its beauty, its attachment to its mate, its plaintive soothing voice, even the very time of its appearance, all conspire to give it interest. It has been universally chosen as the emblem of peace, of harmony, and fidelity; its very presence denotes in the language of poetry, quiet and happiness.

with a crash, and falling to the ground, destroyed hundreds of the birds beneath, forcing down the dense groups with which every stick was loaded. It was a scene of uproar and confusion. I found it quite useless to speak or even to shout to those persons who were nearest to me. Even the reports of the guns were seldom heard, and I was made aware of the firing only by seeing the shooters reloading."- "No one dared venture within the line of devastation." The collecting the dead and wounded birds was left for the morning's employment; and till near sunrise this work of slaughter continued. At this period the pigeons began to move off in a direction different from that by which they entered the forest the preceding evening, "and before sunrise all that were able to fly had disappeared. The howlings of the wolves now reached our ears, and the foxes, lynxes, cougars, bears, racoons, opossums, and polecats were seen sneaking off, whilst eagles and hawks of different species, accompanied by a crowd of vultures, came to supplant them and enjoy their share of the spoil." It is not, however, only in their roosting places that these pigeons are attacked, but in their breeding places also; the young, when just about to leave the nest, being highly esteemed for food. In order to procure these, whole trees are felled, which in their fall strip off the branches, covered with nests, of those adjacent, and so dash the young to the ground. In this manner multitudes are destroyed; yet wherever mighty woods afford them shelter and subsistence, these flocks not only recruit their losses, but appear even to increase; and Audubon observes that "they not unfrequently quadruple their numbers yearly, and always at least double them."

The Passenger Pigeon is a beautiful bird. The general colour of the upper parts is greyish blue; the two middle tail-feathers are blackish, the rest blue, fading into white. The throat, breast, and sides light brownish red, burnished with gold, green, and crimson; the remainder of the under-surface, whitish; length, sixteen inches.

A BIRD-SHOW.

BY THE AUTHOR OF 'CURIOSITIES OF NATURAL HISTORY.'

6

FROM time immemorial, man has delighted to capture and keep in cages various kinds of birds. The old lady keeps her pretty Polly, the young lady her canary, the gamekeeper chains up an eagle by his house, and the savage of Africa makes a rude cage wherein he confines birds either for profit or amusement. Of late years the art of keeping pet birds has become a real science. Books can be bought on 'Diseases of Parrots,' and the maladies of pigeons and canaries, in which appropriate treatment and medicines are prescribed; and now we have bird-shows both at the Crystal Palace and elsewhere. Occupation is one of the principal sources of happiness, and these bird-shows do good, inasmuch as they foster a spirit of emulation and competition in a study which might fairly come under the notice of the Social Science' committee. Many a canary that would otherwise have sung his daily matins to his mistress and the cat in the parlour, and would have had no longer journey than from his perch to the bottom of the cage, and back again from the bottom of the cage to the perch, now takes a long railway journey, and sings his song to thousands of birdlovers and bird-fanciers; his notes are listened to attentively by judges who understand bird music; his colour, form, and condition are criticized, and the bird which otherwise would have died in the same parlour where he was hatched, and who would have had no history or record written of his life, now returns from the show honoured with a prize, and when he is ultimately stuffed and put in a glass case, becomes an historical archive in the family to which he belonged when in life.

Bird-shows seem to be patronized by persons of all ages. Gentlemen exhibit, and ladies exhibit; the names of not a few misses