As they are incapable of supporting the light of the day, or at least of then seeing and readily avoiding their danger, they keep all this time concealed in some obscure retreat suited to their gloomy appetites, and there continue in solitude and silence. The cavern of a rock, the darkest part of a hollow tree, the battlements of a ruined and unfrequented castle, some obscure hole in a farmer's out-house, are the places where they are usually found; if they be seen out of these retreats in the daytime they may be considered as having lost their wayas having by some accident been thrown into the midst of their enemies, and surrounded with danger.

Having spent the day in their retreat, at the approach of evening they sally forth, and skim rapidly up and down along the hedges. The barn-owl, indeed, who lives chiefly upon mice, is contented to be more stationary: he takes his residence upon some shock of corn, or the point of some old house; and there watches in the dark with the utmost perspicacity and per

severance.

Nor are these birds by any means silent; they all have a hideous note, which, while pursuing their prey, is seldom heard, but may be considered rather as a call to courtship. There is something always terrifying in this call, which is often heard in the silence of midnight, and breaks the general pause with a horrid variation. It is different in all, but in each it is alarming and disagreeable. Kircher, who has set the voices of birds to music, has given all the tones of the owl note, which makes a most tremendous melody. Indeed, the prejudices of mankind are united with their sensations to make the cry of the owl disagreeable. The screechowl's voice was always considered among the people as a presage of some sad calamity that was soon to ensue. They seldom, however, are heard while they are preying; that important pursuit is always attended with silence, as it is by no means their intention to disturb or forewarn those little animals they wish to surprise. When their pursuit has been successful they soon return to their solitude, or to their young, if that be the season. If, however, they find but little game, they continue their quest still longer; and it sometimes happens that, obeying the dictates of appetite rather than of prudence, they pursue so long that broad day breaks in upon them, and leaves them dazzled, bewildered, and at a distance

from home.

In this distress they are obliged to take shelter in the first tree or hedge that offers, there to continue concealed all day, till the returning darkness once more supplies them with a better plan of the country. But it too often happens that, with all their precaution to conceal themselves, they are spied out by the other birds of the place, and are sure to receive no mercy. The black bird, the thrush, the jay, the bunting, and the redbreast all come in file, and employ their little arts of insult and abuse. The smallest, the feeblest, and the most contemptible of this unfortunate bird's enemies are then the foremost to injure and torment him. They increase their cries and turbulence round him, flap him with their wings, and are ready to show their courage to be great, as they are sensible that their danger is but small. The unfortunate owl, not knowing where to attack or where to fly, patiently sits and suffers all their insults. Astonished and dizzy, he only replies to their mockeries by awkward and ridiculous gestures, by turning his head and rolling his eyes with an air of stupidity. It is enough that an owl appears by day to set the whole grove into a kind of uproar. Either the aversion all the small birds have to this animal, or the consciousness of their own security, makes them pursue him without ceasing, while they encourage each other by their mutual cries to lend assistance in this laudable undertaking.

It sometimes happens, however, that the little birds pursue their insults with the same imprudent zeal with

which the owl himself had pursued his depredations. They hunt him the whole day until evening returns, which, restoring him his faculties of sight once more, he makes the foremost of his pursuers pay dear for their former sport; nor is man always an unconcerned spectator here. The bird-catchers have got an art of counterfeiting the cry of the owl exactly; and having before limed the branches of a hedge, they sit unseen and give the call. At this, all the little birds flock to the place where they expect to find their well-known enemy; but instead of finding their stupid antagonist they are stuck fast to the hedge themselves. This sport must be put in practice an hour before nightfall to be successful; for if it is put off till later, those birds which but a few minutes sooner came to provoke their enemy, will then fly from him with as much terror as they just before showed insolence.

It is not unpleasant to see one stupid bird made in some sort a decoy to deceive another. The great horned owl is sometimes made use of for this purpose, to lure the kite when falconers desire to catch him for the purposes of training the falcon. Upon this occasion they clap the tail of a fox to the great owl to render his figure extraordinary, in which trim he sails slowly along, flying low, which is his usual manner. The kite, either curious to observe this odd kind of animal, or perhaps inquisitive to see whether it may not be proper for food, flies after, and comes nearer and nearer. this manner he continues to hover, and sometimes to descend, till the falconer setting a strong-winged hawk against him, seizes him for the purpose of training his young ones at home.

In

The usual place where the great horned owl breeds is in the cavern of a rock, the hollow of a tree, or the turret of some ruined castle. Its nest is near three feet in diameter, and composed of sticks bound together by the fibrous roots of trees, and lined with leaves on the inside. It lays about three eggs, which are larger than those of a hen, and of a colour somewhat resembling the bird itself. The young ones are very voracious, and the parents not less expert at satisfying the call of hunger. The lesser owl of this kind never makes a nest for itself, but always takes up with the old nest of some other bird, which it has often been forced to abandon. It lays four or five eggs; and the young are all white at first, but change colour in about a fortnight, The other owls in general build near the place where they chiefly prey; that which feeds upon birds in some neighbouring grove; that which preys chiefly upon mice near some farmer's yard, where the proprietor of the place takes care to give it perfeet security. In fact, whatever mischief one species of owl may do in the woods, the barn-owl makes a sufficient recompense for by being equally active in destroying mice nearer home; so that a single owl is said to be more serviceable than half a dozen cats in ridding the barn of its domestic vermin. In the year 1580," says an old writer, "at Hallontide, an army of mice so over-run the marshes near Southminster, that they eat up the grass to the very roots. But at length a great number of strange painted owls came and devoured all the mice. The like happened again in Essex about sixty years after."

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To conclude our account of these birds, they are all very shy of man, and extremely indocile and difficult to be tamed. The white owl in particular, as Mr. Buffon asserts, cannot be made to live in captivity; I suppose he means if it be taken when old. "They live," says he, "ten or twelve days in the aviary where they are shut up; but they refuse all kind of nourishment, and at last die for hunger. By day they remain without moving from the floor of the aviary; in the evening they mount on the highest perch, where they continue to make a noise like a man snoring with his mouth open. This seems designed as a call for their old companions without; and, in fact, I have seen several others come

to the call, and perch upon the roof of the avairy, where they made the same kind of hissing, and soon after permitted themselves to be taken in a net."

BOOK III-CHAP. I.

OF BIRDS OF THE POULTRY KIND IN GENERAL.

From the most rapacious and noxious tribe of birds, we make a transition to those which of all others are the most harmless and the most serviceable to man. He may force the rapacious tribes to assist his pleasures in the field, or induce the smaller warblers to delight him with their singing; but it is from the poultry kind that he derives the most solid advantages, as they not only make a considerable addition to the necessaries of life, but furnish out the greatest delicacies to every entertain

ment.

Almost all the domestic birds of the poultry kind that we maintain in our yards are of foreign extraction; but there are others to be ranked in this class that are as yet in a state of nature, and perhaps only wait till they become sufficiently scarce to be taken under the care of man to multiply their propagation. It will appear remarkable enough if we consider how much the tame poultry which we have imported from distant climates has increased, and how much those wild birds of the poultry kind that have never yet been taken into keeping have been diminished and destroyed. They are all thinned; and many of the species, especially in the more cultivated and populous parts of the kingdom, are utterly unseen.

Under birds of the poultry kind I rank all those that have white flesh, and, comparatively to their head and limbs, have bulky bodies. They are furnished with short strong bills for picking up grain, which is their chief, and often their only sustenance. Their wings are short and concave; for which reason they are not able to fly far. They lay a great many eggs; and as they lead their young abroad the very day they are hatched in quest of food, which they are shown by the mother, and which they pick up for themselves, they generally make their nests on the ground. The toes of all these are united by a membrane as far as the first articulation, and then are divided as in those of the former class.

Under this class we may therefore rank the common cock, the peacock, the turkey, the pintada or Guinea-hen, the pheasant, the bustard, the grouse, the partridge, and the quail. These all bear a strong similitude to each other, being equally granivorous, fleshy, and delicate to the palate. These are among birds what beasts of pasture are among quadrupeds-peaceable tenants of the field, and shunning the thicker parts of the forest, which abounds with numerous animals that carry on unceasing hostilities against them.

As Nature has formed the rapacious class for war, so she seems equally to have fitted these for peace, rest, and society. Their wings are but short, so that they are ill formed for wandering from one region to another; their bills are also short, and incapable of annoying their opposers; their legs are strong, indeed; but their toes are made for scratching up their food, and not for holding or tearing it. These are sufficient indications of their harmless nature; while their bodies, which are fat and fleshy, render them unwieldy travellers, and incapable of straying far from each other.

Accordingly we find them chiefly in society; they live together; and though they may have their disputes, like all other animals, upon some occasions, yet when kept in the same district, or fed in the same yard, they learn the arts of subordination, and in proportion as each knows its strength, he seldom tries a second combat where he has once been worsted.

In this manner, all of this kind seem to lead an indo

lent, voluptuous life; as they are furnished internally with a very strong stomach, commonly called a gizzard, so their voraciousness scarce knows any bounds. If kept in close captivity, and separated from all their former companions, they still have the pleasure of eating left, and they soon grow fat and unwieldy in their prison. Many of the wilder species of birds when cooped or caged pine away, grow gloomy, and some refuse all sustenance whatever; none except those of the poultry kind grow fat, who seem to lose all remembrance of their former liberty, satisfied with indolence and plenty.

The poultry kind may be considered as sensual epicures, solely governed by their appetites The indulgence of these seems to influence their other habits. and destroys among them that connubial fidelity for which most other kinds are remarkable. The eagle and the falcon, how fierce soever to other animals, are yet gentle and true to each other; their connexions when once formed continue till death; and the male and female, in every exigence and every duty, lend faithful assistance to each other. They assist each other in the production of their young, in providing for them when produced; and even then, though they drive them forth to fight their own battles, yet the old ones still retain their former affection to each other, and seldom part far asunder.

But it is very different with this luxurious class I am now describing. Their courtship is but short, and their congress fortuitous. The male takes no heed of his offspring; and, satisfied with the pleasure of getting, leaves to the female all the care of providing for posterity. Wild and irregular in his appetites, he ranges from one to another, and claims every female which he is strong enough to keep from his fellows. Though timorous when opposed to birds of prey, yet he is incredibly bold among those of his own kind; and but to see a male of his own species is sufficient to produce a combat. As his desires extend to all, every creature becomes his enemy that pretends to be his rival.

The female, equally without fidelity or attachment, yields to the most powerful. She stands by, a quiet, meritricious spectator of their fury, ready to reward the conqueror with every compliance. She takes upon herself all the labour of hatching and bringing up her young, and chooses a place for hatching as remote as possible from the cock. Indeed, she gives herself very little trouble in making a nest, as her young ones are to forsake it the instant they part from the shell.

She is equally unassisted in providing for her young, that are not fed with meat put into their mouths, as in other classes of the feathered kind, but peck their food, and, forsaking their nests, run here and there, following the parent wherever it is to be found. She leads them forward where they are likely to have the greatest quantity of grain, and takes care to show, by pecking, the sort proper for them to seek for. Though at other times voracious, she is then abstemious to an extreme degree, and, intent only on providing for and showing her young clutch their food, she scarce takes any nourishment herself. Her parental pride seems to overpower every other appetite; but that decreases in proportion as her young ones are more able to provide for themselves, and then all her voracious habits return.

Among the other habits peculiar to this class of birds is that of dusting themselves. They lie flat in some dusty place, and with their wings and feet raise and scatter the dust over their whole body. What may be their reason for thus doing it is not easy to explain. Perhaps the heat of their bodies is such, that they require this powder to be interposed between their feathers to keep them from lying too close together, and thus increasing that heat with which they are incommoded.

CHAP. II.

OF THE COCK.

All birds taken under the protection of man lose a part of their natural figure, and are altered not only in their habits but in their very form. Climate, food, and captivity are three very powerful agents in producing these alterations; and those birds that have longest felt their influence under human direction are the most likely to have the greatest variety in their figures, their plumage, and their dispositions.

Of all other birds the cock seems to be the oldest companion of mankind, to have been first reclaimed from the forest, and taken to supply the accidental failure of the luxuries or necessities of life. As he is thus longest under the care of man, so of all others, perhaps, he exhibits the greatest number of varieties, there being scarce two birds of this species that exactly resemble each other in plumage and form. The tail, which makes such a beautiful figure in the generality of these birds, is yet found entirely wanting in others; and not only the tail but the rump also. The toes, which are usually four in all animals of the poultry kind, yet in a species of the cock are found to amount to five. The feathers, which lie so sleek, and in such beautiful order in those we are acquainted with, are in a peculiar breed all inverted, and stand staring the wrong way. Nay, there is a species that come from Japan, which, instead of feathers, seem covered with hair. These and many other varieties are to be found in this auimal, which seem to be the marks this early prisoner bears of his long captivity.

It is not well ascertained when the cock was first made domestic in Europe; but it is generally agreed that we first had him in our western world from the kingdom of Persia. Aristophanes calls the cock the "Persian bird," and tells us he enjoyed that kingdom before some of its earliest monarchs. This animal was in fact known so early even in the most savage parts of Europe, that we are told the cock was one of the forbidden foods among the ancient Britons. Indeed, the domestic fowl seems to have banished the wild one. Persia itself, which first introduced it to our acquaintance, seems no longer to know it in its natural form; and if we did not find it wild in some of the woods of India, as well as in those of the islands in the Indian Ocean, we might begin to doubt, as we do with regard to the sheep, in what form it first existed in a state of Nature.

But those doubts no longer exist: the cock is found in the island of Tinian, in many others of the Indian Ocean, and in the woods on the coasts of Malabar, in his ancient state of independence. In his wild condition his plumage is black and yellow, and his comb and wattles yellow and purple. There is another peculiarity also in those of the Indian woods; their bones, which when boiled with us are white, as everybody knows, in those are as black as ebony. Whether this tincture proceeds from their food, as the bones are tinctured red by some feeding upon madder, I leave it to the discussion of others; satisfied with the fact, let us decline speculation.

In their first propagation in Europe there were distinctions that now subsist no longer. The ancients esteemed those fowls whose plumage was redish as invaluable; but as for the white, it was considered as utterly unfit for domestic purposes. These they regarded as subject to become a prey to rapacious birds; and Aristotle thinks them less fruitful than the former. Indeed, his division of these birds seems taken from their culinary uses; the one sort he calls generous and noble, being remarkable for fecundity; the other sort ignoble and useless from their sterility. These distinctions differ widely from our modern notions of generosity in this animal-that which we call the

"game-cock" being by no means so fruitful as the ungenerous dunghill-cock, which we treat with contempt. The Athenians had their cock-matches as well as ourselves; but it is probable they did not enter into our refinement of choosing out the most barren of the species for the purpose of combat.

However this be, no animal in the world has greater courage than the cock when opposed to one of his own species; and in every part of the world where refinement and polished manners have not entirely taken place, cock-fighting is a principal diversion. In China, India, the Philipine islands, and all over the East, cockfighting is the sport and amusement even of kings and princes. With us it has now become a pastime of other days, and is only encouraged in a few solitary instances. Nevertheless, it is the opinion of many that we have a bolder and more valiant breed than is to be found elsewhere; and some, indeed, have entered into a serious discussion upon the cause of so flattering a singularity. But the truth is, they have cocks in China as bold, if not bolder than ours; and, what would still be considered as valuable among cockers here, they have more strength with less weight. Indeed, I have often wondered why men who lay two or three hundred pounds upon the prowess of a single cock have not taken every method to improve the breed. Nothing, it is probable, could do this more effectually than by crossing the "strain," as it is called, by a foreign mixture; and whether having recourse even to the wild cock in the forests of India would not be useful, I leave to their consideration. However, it is a mean and ungenerous amusement, nor would I wish much to promote it. The truth is, I could give such instructions with regard to cock-fighting, and could so arm one of these animals against the other, that it would be almost im possible for the adversary's cock to survive the first or second blow; but as Boerhaave has said upon a former occasion, when he was treating upon poisons, "to teach the arts of cruelty is equivalent to committing them."

This extraordinary courage in the cock is thought to proceed from his being the most salacious of all other birds whatsoever. A single cock suffices for ten or a dozen hens; and it is said of him that he is the only animal whose spirits are not abated by indulgence. But then he soon grows old; the radical moisture is exhausted; and in three or four years he becomes utterly unfit for the purposes of impregnation. "Hens, also," to use the words of Willoughby," as they for the greatest part of the year daily lay eggs, cannot suffice for so many births, but for the most part after three years become effete and barren: for when they have exhausted all their seed-eggs, of which they had but a certain quantity from the beginning, they must necessarily cease to lay, there being no new ones generated within.

The hen seldom clutches a brood of chickens above once a season, though instances have been known in which they produced two. The number of eggs a domestic hen will lay in the year are above two hundred, provided she be well fed and supplied with water and liberty. It matters not much whether she be trodden by the cock or no; she will continue to lay, although all the eggs of this kind can never by hatching be brought to produce a living animal. Her nest is made without any care, if left to herself; a hole scratched into the ground among a few bushes is the only preparation she makes for this season of patient expectation. Nature, almost exhausted by its own fecundity, seems to inform her of the proper time for hatching, which she herself testifies by a clucking note, and by discontinuing to lay. The good housewives, who often get more by their hens laying than by their chickens, artificially protract this clucking season, and sometimes entirely remove it. As soon as their hen begins to cluck they stint her in her provisions; if that fails, they

plunge her into cold water; this for the time effectually puts back her hatching; but then it often kills the poor bird, who takes cold and dies under the operation.

If left entirely to herself, the hen would seldom lay above twenty eggs in the same nest without attempting to hatch them but in proportion as she lays her eggs are removed; and she continues to lay, vainly hoping to increase the number. In the wild state the hen seldom lays above fifteen eggs; but then her provision is more difficultly obtained, and she is perhaps sensible of the difficulty of maintaining too numerous a family. When the hen begins to sit nothing can exceed her perseverance and patience; she continues for some days immoveable, and when forced away by they importunities of hunger she quickly returns. Sometimes, also, her eggs become too hot for her to bear, especially if she be furnished with too warm a nest within doors, for then she is obliged to leave them to cool a little; thus the warmth of the nest only retards incubation, and often puts the brood a day or two back in the shell. While the hen sits she carefully turns her eggs, and even removes them to different situations; till at length, in about three weeks, the young brood begin to give signs of a desire to burst their confinement. When by the repeated efforts of their bill, which serves like a pioneer on this occasion, they have broke themselves a passage through the shell, the hen still continues to sit till all are excluded. The strongest and best chickens are generally the first candidates for liberty; the weakest come behind, and some even die in the shell. When all are produced, she then leads them forth to provide for themselves. Her affection and her pride seem then to alter her very nature and correct her imperfections. No longer voracious or cowardly, she abstains from all food that her young can swallow, and flies boldly at every creature that she thinks is likely to do them mischief. Whatever the invading animal be she boldly attacks him-the horse, the hog, or the mastiff. When marching at the head of her little troop she acts the commander, and has a variety of notes to call her numerous train to their food, or to warn them of approaching danger. Upon one of these occasions, I have seen the whole brood run for security into the thickest part of a hedge, when the hen herself ventured boldly forth and faced a fox that came for plunder. With a good mastiff, however, we soon sent the invader back to his retreat, but not before he had wounded the hen in several places.

Ten or twelve chickens are the greatest number that a good hen can rear and clutch at a time; but as this bears no proportion to the number of her eggs, schemes have been imagined to clutch all the eggs of a hen, and thus turn her produce to the greatest advantage. By these contrivances it has been ascertained that a hen that ordinarily produces but twelve chickens in the year is found to produce as many chickens as eggs, and consequently often above two hundred. The contrivance I mean is the artificial method of hatching chickens in stoves, as is practised at Grand Cairo, or in a chymical elaboratory properly graduated, as has been effected by Mr. Reaumur. At Grand Cairo they thus produce six or seven thousand chickens at a time, where, as they are brought forth in their mild spring, which is warmer than our summer, the young ones thrive without clutching. But it is otherwise in our colder and unequal climate; the little animal may without much difficulty be hatched from the shell; but they almost all perish when excluded. To remedy this. Reaumur has made use of a woollen hen, as he calls it; which was nothing more than putting the young ones in a warm basket, and clapping over them a thick woollen canopy. I should think a much better substitute might be found, and this from among the species themselves. Capons may very easily be taught to clutch a fresh brood of chickens throughout the year; so that when one little colony is thus reared another may

be brought to succeed it. Nothing is more common than to see capons thus employed; and the manner of teaching them is this-first the capon is made very tame, so as to feed from one's hand; then, about evening, they pluck the feathers off his breast, and rub the bare skin with nettles; they then put the chickens to him, which presently run under his breast and belly, and probably, rubbing his bare skin gently with their heads, allay the stinging pain which the nettles had just produced. This is repeated for two or three nights, till the animal takes an affection to the chickens that have thus given him relief, and continues to give them the protection they seek for: perhaps, also, the querulous voice of the chickens may be pleasant to him in misery, and invite him to succour the distressed. He from that time brings up a brood of chickens like a hen, clutching them, feeding them, clucking, and performing all the functions of the tenderest parent. A capon once accus tomed to this service will not give over; but when one brood is grown up he may have another nearly hatched put under him, which he will treat with the same tenderness he did the former.

The cock, from his falaciousness, is allowed to be a short-lived animal; but how long these birds live if left to themselves is not yet well ascertained by any histo rian. As they are kept only for profit, and in a few years become unfit for generation, there are few that from mere motives of curiosity will make the tedious experiment of maintaining a proper number till they die. Aldrovandus hints their age to be ten years; and it is probable that this may be its extent. They are subject to some disorders, which it is not our business to describe; and as for poisons, besides nux vomica, which is fatal to most animals except man, they are injured, as Linnæus asserts, by elderberries, of which they are not a little fond.

The peacock by the common people of Italy is said to have the plumage of an angel, the voice of a devil, and the guts of a thief. In fact, each of these qualities mark pretty well the nature of this extraordinary bird. When it appears with its tail expanded, there is none of the feathered creation can vie with it for beauty; yet the horrid scream of its voice serves to abate the pleasure we find from viewing it; and still more, its insatiable gluttony and spirit of depredation make it one of the most noxious domestics that man has taken under his protection.

Our first peacocks were brought from the East Indies; and we are assured that they are still found in vast flocks in a wild state in the islands of Java and Ceylon. So beautiful a bird, and one esteemed such a delicacy at the tables of the luxurious, could not be permitted to continue long at liberty in its distant retreats. So early as the days of Solomon, we find in his navies among the articles imported from the East apes and peacocks. Ælian relates that they were brought into Greece from some barbarous country, and were held in such high esteem among them, that a male and female were valued at above thirty pounds of our money. We are told, also, that when Alexander was in India he found them flying wild, in vast numbers, on the banks of the river Hyarotis, and was so struck with their beauty that he laid a severe fine and punishment on all who should kill or disturb them. Nor are we to be surprised at this, as the Greeks were so much struck with the beauty of this bird when first brought among them, that every person paid a fixed price for seeing it; and several people came from Athens, from Lacedemon, and from Thessaly purely to satisfy their curiosity.

It was probably first introduced into the West merely on accouut of its beauty; but mankind, from contemplating its figure, soon came to think of serving it up for a different entertainment. Ausipius Hurco stands charged by Pliny with being the first who fatted up the peacock for the feasts of the luxurious. Whatever there may be of delicacy in the flesh of a young peacock, it is certain an old one is very indifferent eating; never theless, there is no mention made of choosing the youngest; it is probable they were killed indiscriminately, the beauty of the feathers in some measure stimulating the appetite. Hortensius, the orator, was the first who served them up at an entertainment at Rome; and from that time they were considered as one of the greatest ornaments of every feast. Whether the Roman method of cookery, which was much higher than ours, might not have rendered them more palatable than we find them at present I cannot tell: but certain it is they talk of the peacock as being the first of viands.

Its fame for delicacy, however, did not continue very long; for we find, in the times of Francis the First, that it was a custom to serve up peacocks to the tables of the great, with an intention not to be eaten but only to be seen. Their manner was to strip off the skin, and then preparing the body with the warmest spices, they covered it up again in its former skin, with all its plumage in full display, and no way injured by the preparation. The bird thus prepared was often preserved for many years without corrupting; and it is asserted of the peacock's flesh, that it keeps longer unputrefied than that of any other animal. To give a higher zest to these entertainments, on weddings particularly, they filled the bird's beak and throat with cotton and camphire, which they set on fire to amuse and delight the company. I do not know that the peacock is much used at our entertainments at present, except now and then at an alderman's dinner or a common-council feast, when our citizen's resolve to be splendid; and even then it is never served with its cotton and camphire.

Like all other birds of the poultry kind the peacock feeds upon corn, but its chief predilection is for barley. But as it is a very proud and fickle bird, there is scarce any food that it will not at times covet and pursue. Insects and tender plants are often eagerly sought at a time that it has a sufficiency of its natural food provided more nearly. In the indulgence of these capricious pursuits walls cannot easily confine it; it strips the tops of houses of their tiles or thatch; it lays waste the labours of the gardener, roots up his choicest seeds, and nips his favourite flowers in the bud. Thus its beauty but ill recompenses for the mischief it occasions; and many of the more homely-looking fowls are very deservedly preferred before it.

Nor is the peacock less a debauchee in its affections than even the cock; and though not possessed of the same vigour, yet burns with more immoderate desire. He requires five females at least to attend him; and if there be not a sufficient number, he will even run upon and tread the sitting hen. For this reason the pea-hen endeavours as much as she can to hide her nest from the male, as he would otherwise disturb her sitting and break her eggs.

The pea-hen seldom lays above five or six eggs in this climate before she sits. Aristotle describes her as laying twelve; and it is probable in her native climate she may be thus prolific; for it is certain that in the forests where they breed naturally they are numerous beyond expression. The bird lives about twenty years; and not till its third year has it that beautiful variegated plumage that adorns its tail.

"In the kingdom of Cambaya," says Taverner, "near the city of Baroch, whole flocks of them are seen in the fields. They are very shy, however, and it is impossible to come near them. They run off swifter than he

partridge, and hide themselves in thickets where it is impossible to find them. They perch by night upon trees; and the fowler often approaches them at that season with a kind of banner, on which a peacock is painted to the life on either side. A lighted torch is fixed on the top of this decoy; and the peacock when disturbed flies to what it takes for another, and is thus caught in a noose prepared for that purpose."

There are varieties of this bird, some of which are white, others crested; that which is called the "peacock of Thibet" is the most beautiful of the feathered creation, containing in its plumage all the most vivid colours-red, blue, yellow, and green, disposed in an almost artificial order, as if merely to please the eye of the beholder.

The natal place of the cock and peacock is pretty well ascertained, but there are stronger doubts concerning the turkey-some contending that it has been brought into Europe from the East Indies many centuries ago; while others assert that it is wholly unknown in that part of the world-that it is a native of the new continent, and that it was not brought into Europe till the discovery of that part of the world.

Those who contend for the latter opinion very truly observe, that among all the descriptions we have of eastern birds that of the turkey is not to be found; while, on the contrary, it is very well known in the new continent, where it runs wild about the woods. It is said by them to have been first seen in France in the reign of Francis I., and in England in that of Henry VIII., which is about the time when Mexico was first conquered by Spain. On the other hand, it is asserted that the turkey, so far from being unknown in Europe before that time, was known even to the ancients; and that Ælian has given a pretty just description of it. They allege that its very name implies its having been brought from some part of the East; and that it is found, among other dainties, served up to the tables of the great before that time among ourselves. But what they pretend to be the strongest proof is, that though the wild turkey be so very common in America, yet the natives cannot contrive to tame it; and though hatched in the ordinary manner, nothing can render it domestic. In this diversity of opinions, perhaps it is best to suspend assent till more lights are thrown on the subject; however, I am inclined to concur with the former opinion.

With us, when young, it is one of the tenderest of all birds; yet in its wild state it is found in great plenty in the forests of Canada, which are covered with show above three parts of the year. In their natural woods they are found much larger than in their state of domestic captivity; they are much more beautiful also, their feathers being of a dark-grey, bordered at the edges with a bright gold-colour. These the savages of the country weave into cloaks to adorn their persons, and fashion into fans and umbrellas, but never once think of taking into keeping animals that the woods furnish them with in sufficient abundance. Savage man seems to find a delight in precarious possession. A great part of the pleasure of the chase lies in the uncertainty of the pursuit, and he is unwilling to abridge himself in any accidental success that may attend his fatigues. The hunting the turkey, therefore, makes one of his principal diversions, as its flesh contributes chiefly to the support of his family. When he has discovered the place of their retreat-which in general is near fields of nettles, or where there is plenty of any kind of grain-he takes