observed; the blackbird and the turkey (meleagris gallopavo) lay; and house pigeons sit. The greenfinch (loxia chloris) sings; the bat (vespertilio) is seen flitting about, and the viper uncoils itself from its winter sleep. The wheatear (sylvia ananthe), or English ortolan, again pays its annual visit, leaving England in September. They are found in great numbers about East Bourne, in Sussex, more than eighteen hundred dozen being annually taken in this neighbourhood. They are usually sold at sixpence a dozen.-See T. T. for 1816, p. 88.

Those birds which have passed the winter in England now take their departure for more northerly regions. The fieldfares (turdus pilaris) travel to Russia, Sweden, and Norway, and even as far as Siberia. They do not arrive in France till December, when they assemble in large flocks of two or three thousand. The red-wing (turdus iliacus), which frequents the same places, eats the same food, and is very similar in manners to the fieldfare, also takes leave of this country for the season. Soon after, the woodcock (scolopax rusticola) wings its aërial voyage to the countries bordering on the Baltic. Some other birds, as the crane and stork, formerly natives of this island, have quitted it entirely, since our cultivation and population have so rapidly increased.

Frogs, enlivened by the warmth of spring, rise from the bottom of ponds and ditches, where they have lain torpid during the winter.

To a FROG.

Poor being! wherefore dost thou fly?
Why seek to shun my gazing eye,
And palpitate with fear?

Indulge a passing trav❜ller's sight,
And leap not on in vain affright;
No cruel foe is here.

I would but pause a while to view
Thy dappled coat of many a hue;
Thy rapid bound survey;

And see how well thy limbs can glide
Along the sedge-crowned streamlet's tide,
Then journey on my way.

No savage sage am I, whose pow'r
Shall tear thee from thy rush-wove bow'r,
To feel th' unsparing knife;

No barb'rous schemes this hand shall try,
Nor, to prolong thy death, would I
Prolong thy little life.

Ah! let him not whose wanton skill
Delights the mangled frog to kill,
The wreath of praise attain!
Philosophy abhors the heart
That prostitutes her sacred art
To give one being pain.

The smelt (salmo eperlanus) begins to ascend rivers to spawn, when they are taken in great abundance.

On the 20th, the vernal equinox takes place. All Nature feels her renovating sway, and seems to rejoice at the retreat of winter. The sallow (salix) now enlivens the hedges; the aspen (populus tremula), and the alder (alnus betula), have their flowers full blown ; the laurustinus (viburnum tinus) and the bay (laurus nobilis) begin to open their leaves. The equinoctial gales are usually most felt, both by sea and land, about this time.

;

Our gardens begin now to assume somewhat of a cheerful appearance. Crocuses, exhibiting a rich mixture of yellow and purple, ornament the borders 'mezereon is in all its beauty; the little flowers with silver crest and golden eye,' daisies, are scattered over dry pastures; and the pilewort (ranunculus ficaria) is seen on the moist banks of ditches. The primrose too (primula veris) peeps from beneath the hedge.

The leaves of honeysuckles are now nearly expanded in our gardens, the buds of the cherry-tree (prunus cerasus), the peach (amygdalus persica), the nectarine, the apricot, and the almond (prunus armeniaca), are fully opened in this month. The buds of the hawthorn (crataegus oxycantha) and of the larch-tree

(pinus larix) begin to open; and the tansy (tanacetum vulgare) emerges out of the ground; ivy-berries are ripe; the daffodil (pseudonarcissus) in moist thickets, the rush (juncus pilosus), and the spurge laurel (daphne laureola), found in woods, are now in bloom.The common whitlow grass (draba verna) on old walls; the yellow Alpine whitlow grass (draba aizoides) on maritime rocks; and the mountain pepper-wort (lepidum petræum) among limestone rocks, flower in March.

The sweet violet (viola odorata) sheds its delicious perfumes in this month.

Sweet VIOLETS! from your humble beds
Among the moss, beneath the thorn,
You rear your unprotected heads,
And brave the cold and cheerless morn
Of early March; not yet are past
The wintry cloud, the sullen blast,

Which, when your fragrant buds shall blow,
May lay those purple beauties low.
Ah stay awhile, till warmer showers
And brighter suns shall cheer the day;
Sweet Violets stay, till hardier flowers
Prepare to meet the lovely May.
Then from your mossy shelter come,
And rival every richer bloom;
For though their colours gayer shine,
Their odours do not equal thine.

And thus real merit still may dare to vie

With all that wealth bestows, or pageant heraldry.

C. SMITH1.

The gannets or Soland geese (pelicanus bassanus) resort in March to the Hebrides, and other rocky isles of North Britain, to make their nests and lay their eggs.

Much amusement may be derived in this month, as well as in the last, from watching the progress of worms, insects, &c. from torpidity to life, particular. ly on the edges or banks of ponds.-See our last volume, p. 53.

See her pleasing work, entitled Conversations on Natural History, vol. i, p. 96.

Towards the close of the month, bees (apis mellifica) venture out of their hives. For a full account of this interesting insect we refer the reader to our four former volumes; only selecting another flower from the wreath of the elegant poetess just quoted. an invocation to the bee.

Go while summer suns are bright,
Take at large thy wandering flight;
Go and load thy tiny feet

With every rich and various sweet;
Cling around the flowering thorn,
Dive in the woodbine's honied horn;
Seek the wild rose that shades the dell,
Explore the foxglove's freckled bell;
Or in the heath flower's fairy cup
Drink the fragrant spirit up.

But when the meadows shall be mown,
And summer's garlands overblown;
Then come, thou little busy bee,
And let thy homestead be with me:
There, sheltered by thy straw-built hive,
In my garden thou shalt live,
And that garden shall supply

Thy delicious alchemy.

There, for thee, in autumn, blows
The Indian pink and latest rose;
The mignionette perfumes the air,
And stocks, unfading flowers, are there.

Yet fear not when the tempests come,
And drive thee to thy waxen home,
That I shall then most treacherously
For thy honey murder thee :-

Ah, no!--throughout the winter drear
I'll feed thee, that another year

Thou may'st renew thy industry

Among the flowers, thou little busy bee!

It is

In the latter end of March, chickens run about; a brimstone-coloured butterfly (papilio rhamni) appears; sea-kale begins to sprout; black beetles fly about in the evening; and bats issue from their places of concealment. Roach and dace float near the surface of the water, and sport about in pursuit of insects. Daffodils are in flower; peas appear above ground, and the male blossoms of the yew-tree expand and

discharge their farina. in forming their nests.

month.

Sparrows are busily employed
Young lambs are yeaned this

2

In this month the farmer dresses and rolls his meadows; spreads ant-hills; plants quicksets, osiers, &c.; sows flax seed, artificial grasses, beans and peas, broom and whin seeds, and grass seeds among wheat. About the 23d, he ploughs for and sows oats, and hemp and flax. A dry season is very important to the farmer, that he may get the seed early into the ground.

A pleasing picture of the farmyard, in this month,
is drawn by Dr. Bidlake in his poem of the Year."
With ceaseless clamour now the farmyard rings;
The cock crows shrill defiance, strutting proud,
And claps his sombre wings, while all around
His troop of hens obsequious favour seek;
He hears disdainful from the distant house
His challenge answered; while low hiss the geese,
Loud quack the ducks, that with their cleaving feet
Sail o'er the pond. The snarling mastiff barks
As beggars pass; and proud with circling tail,
And sweeping wing, the turkey gobbles harsh.
The irritable hen, with her loud train

Of new-hatched chickens to the humbler cots,
Intent to pick the scattered crumbs, intrudes
Fearless, though oft expelled. Clucking she calls
Her family more close; at each attack
Her ruffled pinions speak her sudden ire;
The little brood some widow's humble wealth,
Scant aid of age, partake congenial heat,

And chirp incessant round the blazing hearth,

The wonderful instinct of the hen in constructing her nest and rearing her young is a subject worthy of our observation. With what caution does she provide herself a nest in places unfrequented, and free from noise and disturbance! When she has laid her eggs in such a manner that she can cover them, what care does she take in turning them frequently, that all parts may partake of the vital warmth! When she leaves them, to provide for her necessary sustenance, how punctually does she return before they G