off during
this annual slaughter without execrating the practice, and pitying the
poor rooks, whose melancholy cries may be heard to a great distance, and
some of whom may be seen, exhausted by their fruitless exertions,
sitting melancholy on a solitary tree waiting till the _sport_ is over,
that they may return and see whether any of the offspring which they
have reared with so much care and anxiety are left to them; or, what is
more probable, the call for assistance of their young having ceased,
they are aware of their fate, and are sitting in mournful contemplation
of their loss. This may appear romantic, but it is nevertheless true."

Who can read the above without a shudder at the brutal taste of the
lords of the lower world.

_The Emu._

"The only instance I have met with in which the hen bird has not the
chief care in hatching and bringing up the young is in the case of the
emus at the farm belonging to the Zoological Society near Kingston. A
pair of these birds have now five young ones: the female at different
times dropped nine eggs in various places in the pen in which she was
confined. These were collected in one place by the male, who rolled them
gently and carefully along with his beak. He then sat upon them himself,
and continued to do so with the utmost assiduity for nine weeks, during
which time the female never took his place, nor was he ever observed to
leave the nest. When the young were hatched,[4] he alone took charge of
them, and has continued to do so ever since, the female not appearing to
notice them in any way. On reading this anecdote, many persons would
suppose that the female emu was not possessed of that natural affection
for its young which other birds have. In order to rescue it from this
supposition, I will mention that a female emu belonging to the Duke of
Devonshire at Cheswick lately laid some eggs; and as there was no male
bird, she collected them together herself and sat upon them."

[4] There are now (June) five young emus alive, and appearing
perfectly healthy.

_The Toad._

"It is a curious fact that toads are so numerous in the island of
Jersey, that they have become a term of reproach for its inhabitants,
the word 'Crapaud' being frequently applied to them; while in the
neighbouring island of Guernsey not a toad is to be found, though they
have frequently been imported. Indeed, certain other islands have always
been privileged in this respect. Ireland is free fr