es in diameter, and the tree
thirty feet high. But the Swedish robin's taste for its berries is to
be noted by you, because, first, the dogwood berry is commonly said to
be so bitter that it is not eaten by birds (Loudon, "Arboretum," ii.,
497, 1.); and, secondly, because it is a pretty coincidence that this
most familiar of household birds should feed fondly from the tree which
gives the housewife her spindle,--the proper name of the dogwood in
English, French, and German being alike "Spindle-tree." It feeds,
however, with us, certainly, most on worms and insects. I am not sure
how far the following account of its mode of dressing its dinners may
be depended on: I take it from an old book on Natural History, but find
it, more or less, confirmed by others: "It takes a worm by one
extremity in its beak, and beats it on the ground till the inner part
comes away. Then seizing it in a similar manner by the other end, it
entirely cleanses the outer part, which alone it eats."

One's first impression is that this must be a singularly unpleasant
operation for the worm, however fastidiously delicate and exemplary in
the robin. But I suppose the real meaning is, that as a worm lives by
passing earth through its body, the robin merely compels it to quit
this--not ill-gotten, indeed, but now quite unnecessary--wealth. We
human creatures, who have lived the lives of worms, collecting dust,
are served by Death in exactly the same manner.

23. You will find that the robin's beak, then, is a very prettily
representative one of general bird power. As a weapon, it is very
formidable indeed; he can kill an adversary of his own kind with one
blow of it in the throat; and is so pugnacious, "valde pugnax," says
Linnaeus, "ut non una arbor duos capiat erithacos,"--"no single tree can
hold two cock-robins;" and for precision of seizure, the little flat
hook at the end of the upper mandible is one of the most delicately
formed points of forceps which you can find among the grain eaters. But
I pass to one of his more special perfections.

24. He is very notable in the exquisite silence and precision of his
movements, as opposed to birds who either creak in flying, or waddle in
walking. "Always quiet," says Gould, "for the silkiness of his plumage
renders his movements noiseless, and the rustling of his wings is never
heard, any more than his tread on earth, over which he bounds with
amazing sprightliness." You know how much importance I have