posed that the sound of the trumpets had so
completely stunned the poor bird, that it was deprived of both voice
and hearing. It soon appeared, however, that this was not the case; for
Plutarch says, the bird had been all the while occupied in profound
meditation, studying how to imitate the sound of the trumpets, which
had made a deep impression on him; and at last, to the astonishment of
all its friends, it broke its long silence by a very perfect imitation
of the flourish of the trumpets it had heard; observing with great
accuracy all the repetitions, stops, and changes. But this turned out
an unfavorable lesson, for the magpie forgot every thing else, and
never afterwards attempted another imitation but that of the trumpets.

THE HUMMING-BIRD.

The following is from the pen of Wilson: "A nest of young humming-birds
was once brought to me that were nearly fit to fly; one of them flew
out of the nest and was killed. The other was fed with sugar and water,
into which it thrust its bill, sucking it with great avidity. I kept it
upwards of three months, feeding it on sugar and water; gave it fresh
flowers every morning, sprinkled with the liquid, and surrounded the
space in which I kept it with gauze, that it might not injure itself.
It appeared gay, active, and full of spirit, humming from flower to
flower, as if in its native wilds, and always expressed, by its motions
and chirping, great pleasure at seeing fresh flowers introduced into
its cage. Numbers of people visited it from motives of curiosity, and I
took every precaution to preserve it, if possible, through the winter.
Unfortunately, however, it got at large in the room, and, flying about,
so injured itself, that it soon after died."

THE BLUE JAY.

"This elegant bird," says Wilson, "is distinguished as a kind of beau
among the feathered tenants of our woods, by the brilliancy of his
dress. He possesses the mischievous disposition of the jay family, and
he seems particularly fond of exercising his malignant ingenuity
against the owl. No sooner has he discovered the retreat of one of
these, than he summons the whole feathered fraternity to his
assistance, who surround the glimmering _solitaire_, and attack him
from all sides, raising such a shout as might be heard, on a still day,
more than half a mile off. When, in my hunting excursions, I have
passed near this scene of tumult, I have imagined to myself that I
heard the insulting party, venting their re