eding upon fish;"
"Passeres, or Sparrows;" "Columbae, or Pigeons," &c. An outline of Mr.
Vigors's Quinary System, is also given, and the reader referred to
proper sources for illustrations. The Editor then, leaving the beaten
path of his predecessors, rambles through "fields and forests,
unfettered by system, but alive to whatever he meets with likely to
interest for its curiosity or its novelty." The birds are classed
according to their peculiar labours: thus, there are Mining Birds,
Ground Builders, Mason and Carpenter Birds, Platform Builders,
Basket-making Birds, Weaver Birds, Tailor Birds, Felt-making Birds,
Cementers, Dome-builders, and Parasite Birds. Each division is so
abundantly attractive to the observer of Nature in field or folio,
that we scarcely know how to decide on an extract; and the reader will
readily admit this dilemma, if he but recollects the early enthusiasm,
wonder, and delight, with which he must have regarded a _Bird's Nest_,
unless he has been pent up all his life in the brick and mortar and
chimney groves of a metropolis. Even then, the ingenuity of rooks may
have occurred to him as not a whit less wonderful than the proud
glories of art with which he has been environed. It is, however, time
to determine, and we, accordingly, choose the following:--

_The Osprey._

It would appear that the Americans are very fond of these birds, from
some prevalent superstition connected with them. "It has been
considered," says Dr. S. Mitchill, of New York, "a fortunate incident
to have a nest and a pair of these birds on one's farm. They have,
therefore, been generally respected, and neither the axe nor the gun
has been lifted against them. Their nest continues from year to year.
The same couple, or another, as the case may be, occupies it season
after season. Repairs are duly made; or, when demolished by storms, it
is industriously rebuilt. There was one of these nests, formerly, upon
the leafless summit of a venerable chestnut-tree, on our farm,
directly in front of the house, at the distance of less than half a
mile. The withered trunk and boughs, surmounted by the coarse-wrought
and capacious nest, was a more picturesque object than an obelisk; and
the flights of the hawks, as they went forth to hunt, returned with
their game, exercised themselves in wheeling round and round, and
circling about it, were amusing to the beholder, almost from morning
till night. The family of these hawks, old and youn