the denser parts of the shrubbery, early in the morning, and again near to twilight. The song of the Thrush seems to us full of gladness, of light-heartedness, possibly from its bringing back old memories of rambles over heaths and woodlands with hearts as free and light as the song of the bird, aptly described by the poet as

"A flute-like melody,

Full of rich cadences, and clear and deep;
Upon the sense it cometh like a gush

Of perfume stolen by the winds that sweep
Where spice isles gem the bosom of the deep."

The Thrush is a very handsome bird; the upper parts of its body are in colour a clear brown, the breast of orange buff, marked with well-defined triangular spots of rich chocolate colour, and possessing a pair of the very brightest of eyes. The study of the forms, colours, and habits of our birds can now be pursued with much greater advantage, whilst the hedges and trees are bare, than when the spring buds shall have burst into leaf, and screened the feathered tribes from close observation.

On summer mornings it is very pleasing to watch the birds enjoying their early bath. The Thrush is usually foremost in the fun, wading into the clear pool and throwing the water around in the most gleeful spirit.

Like the blackbird, the Thrush is a great destroyer of garden snails; it seeks out a favourable stone for execution, and, carrying the snail in its bill, raps it with violence against the stone until the frail tenement is cracked, when the tenant is picked out and swallowed. Heaps of broken shells are frequently found under the shrubbery walls, arising from these executions.

The habits of the Thrush are somewhat familiar; it will frequently build in close proximity to the house, in an evergreen shrub or amid the ivy, and is somewhat careless of near approach whilst sitting. The nest is very firmly constructed of dried grass, earth, clay, &c., and the eggs found therein are of beautiful bright greenish-blue, with clear dark spots. It is a great pity this admired songster should be destroyed as an article of food; the flesh is, however, considered so excellent for a weak digestion as to be medicinally recommended.

FEBRUARY 27TH.

THE COMMON HOUSE FLY.-(Musca domestica.)

THIS familiar insect begins to feel the influence of the approaching season, and to awaken from its torpid winter sleep. Some few, under favourable circumstances, have been enabled to endure the long rigour of winter, and will soon reproduce the summer millions.

Now and then a solitary fly will be seen on the windowpane when the sun shines warmly and the air proves mild, at first appearing scarcely able to walk, and then becoming more active, from the influence of the sunbeams, running up the smooth, vertical pane of glass, then flying to the ceiling of the room, walking with its feet upward with the utmost facility, as if defying the laws of gravitation. This appears at first a most astounding feat, but when we put the insect under the microscope the mystery is explained. The leg of the Fly has been obviously designed to enable the insect to walk on the smoothest surfaces, vertical or horizontal ;-it consists of two membraneous suckers, convex above and hollow beneath, whereby a slight atmospheric pressure is caused, which enables the Fly to hold on, even with its feet upward. It is, in fact, necessary that the insect should have this power, otherwise it would be unable to accomplish one-half its mission.

This humble and apparently insignificant insect has its beneficial uses in the grand scheme of the creation, and carries with it teachings of the greatest interest to man, if he would but stoop to read the evidences of power and wisdom exhibited in its formation.

"The stately limb and lubricated joint,
Within the small dimensions of a point;
Muscle and nerve miraculously spun:

His mighty work who speaks and it is done."

What can present a more beautiful or wonderful appearance than the eye of a Fly under a powerful glass? Four thousand simple but perfect organs of vision in the eye of a common house Fly!

When we contemplate insect formation, the mind is filled

with wonder; every part is so exquisitely framed, so completely adapted to the peculiar requirements of the particular atom of existence; and then so beautifully and lavishly adorned even where the insect is so minute as to escape detection by the unassisted eye.

FEBRUARY 28TH.

THE PRIMROSE (Primula vulgaris),

more properly prime rose, or first rose of spring, is occasionally a plentiful February flower in the sheltered lanes and hedgerows, or warm copse, and is always greeted with glad thoughts.

"Welcome, pale primrose! starting up between

Dead matted leaves of ash and oak that strew
The every lawn, the wood, and spinney through—
'Mid creeping moss and ivy's darker green,

How much thy presence beautifies the ground!”

We confess to a great partiality for this beautiful wildling, the chief ornament of early spring. Soon its fresh green embossed leaves and tufts of delicate flowers will mantle our hedgebanks with beauty. Coleridge speaks of the first spring primrose as gleaming on the soul like a ray of sudden gladness."

66

"The peering primrose, like sudden gladness,

Gleams on the soul."

The reappearance of the flower in early spring often awakens pleasant thoughts of the happy days of childhood, when these early flowers were prized as treasures indeed. The gleam of gladness that shot into the heart of Coleridge might have originated from such remembrances, or viewing the flower as the emblem of the freshness and beauty of returning spring. Carrington thus gives utterance to his pleasurable sensations on beholding Nature awakening her dormant energies to renewed life :

"O welcome Spring!

Who strays amid thy empire and feels not

Divine sensations? feels not life renewed

At all its thousand fountains? Who can bathe

His brow in thy young breezes, and not bless

The new-born impulse which gives wings to thought
And pulse to action?"

The Primrose, removed from its native haunts, loses its beautiful tint and freshness; in the garden it pales, as if pining for the woodland. Occasionally the flower stalk puts forth several blooms, and in peculiar soils the blossom assumes a chocolate tint. The root has a powerful scent of anise, and it is sometimes dried for its fragrant odour.

It is a curious fact that nearly every animal, with the exception of the pig, rejects the plant as food.