dency in nature, already noticed, of one group of animals to pass insensibly, and by intervening forms and instincts, into another. I allude to the lämmergayer, or bearded vulture, a species nearly allied in many particulars to the eagle family, and yet possessing too many characteristics of the class we have been considering, to suffer us to mistake its true place among the winged tribes. This bird emulates the eagle in its daring and rapacious habits. Sailing in the air above the snow-clad summits of the stupendous Alps,' says the author of a recent publication, 'it watches until the unwary chamois approaches the edge of a precipice, or traverses the pass of a narrow ledge, and then, sudden and impetuous as the avalanche of its native regions, down it rushes, hurling the helpless animal into the abyss below; when, proudly whirling round for a few gyrations, as if to contemplate the effects of its sanguinary deed, it plunges down to gorge on the yet quivering flesh.' Bruce, in his 'Travels,' gives a remarkable instance of the boldness and voracity of this bird. His servants were preparing dinner on the summit of a lofty mountain, when a bearded vulture slowly advanced, and at length fairly seated himself within the ring which they had formed. The affrighted natives started up, and ran for their lances and shields; and the bird, after an ineffectual attempt to extract a portion of their meat from the boiling water, seized a large piece in each of his talons from a platter that stood by, and carried them off slowly along the ground as he came. After an interval of a few minutes, the vulture returned for a second freight, but was shot by the traveller before it could carry its purpose into effect.

NINTH WEEK-FRIDAY.

BIRDS OF PREY.-THE EAGLE.

THE eagle, which, like the lion among quadrupeds, is the acknowledged king of that division of nature to which it be

longs, is ranked among the order of falcons. The following spirited description of it is given by a recent writer on the natural history of birds: They live by slaughter; they carry on a war of ruthless extermination, and surround their lonely nests with the relics of many a bloody feast. Their port is free and noble, their eyes piercing, their body firm. and compact, their flight rapid and impetuous, their beak and talons are hooked, sharp, and formidable. They live alone, or in pairs; some on the cliffs of the sea-shore, some on the highest mountains, some among the secluded recesses of the woods, and some on wide heaths and moors. All are busy and active in the destruction of life. Some, perched on a rocky height, or on the topmost branches of a tree, mark their prey at a distance, and rapid as an arrow, launch upon the fated quarry; some skim our fields and woods, and pounce sudden and silently on the unsuspecting victim; they soar aloft, and sweep down like a thunderbolt upon their prey while in the air; or glide upon it obliquely, and thus skim it from the surface of the earth. All, however, are not of equal courage; some attack birds and quadrupeds larger than themselves, and capable of making resistance; others content themselves with feeble animals, lizards, snakes, frogs, mice and the like. The females exceed the males in size and powers.' **

From this numerous and diversified class, I select the whiteheaded eagle of America, which is emblazoned on the national standard of the United States, and is spread nearly over the whole northern division of the New World. I do this for two reasons; first, because it is one of the most powerful of the eagle family, and furnishes in itself an example of a bird. which feeds on prey both from the land and waters; and, secondly, that I may have an opportunity of introducing the graphic and spirited description of two eminent and eloquent naturalists, who bring, as it were, before our very eyes this tyrant and scourge of the inferior creation. The following is Audubon's account of the royal bird's manner of capturing the wild swan:

* Study of Birds, pp. 35, 36.

'To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while approaching winter brings millions of waterfowl, on whistling wings, from the countries of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a season. The eagle is seen perched in an erect attitude on the highest summit of the tallest tree, by the margin of the broad stream. His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse; he listens attentively to every sound which comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and, should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to continue patient. At this well known call the male partly opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment he resumes his erect attitude, and again all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the teal, the widgeon, the mallard, and others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the current, but the eagle heeds them not. They are at that time beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild, trumpet-like sound of a yet distant, but approaching swan, is heard. A shriek from the female eagle comes across the stream; for, kind reader, she is fully as alert as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight; her long neck is stretched forward; her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very legs are spread behind her tail to aid her flight. She approaches, however. The eagle has marked her for his prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird starts from his perch, in full preparation for the chase, with an awful scream, that to the swan's ear, brings more terror than the report of the large

duck-gun. Now is the moment to witness the eagle s powers. He glides through the air like a falling star; and like a flash of lightning comes upon the timorous quarry; which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manœuvres, to allude the grasp of his cruel talons; she mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were she not prevented by the eagle, which, long possessed of the knowledge, that by such a stratagem the swan might escape him, forces her to remain in the air, by attempting to strike her with his talons from beneath. The hope of escape is soon given up by the swan. She has already become much weakened, and her strength fails at the sight of the courage and swiftness of her antagonist. Her last gasp is about to escape; when the ferocious eagle strikes with his talons the under side of her wing, and, with resistless power, forces the bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore. It is then, reader, that you may see the cruel spirit of this dreaded enemy of the feathered race, while, exulting over his prey, he for the first time breathes at ease. He presses down his powerful feet, and drives his sharp claws deeper than ever into the heart of the dying swan. He shrieks with delight as he feels the last convulsions of his prey, which has now sunk under his unceasing efforts to render death as painfully felt as it can possibly be.* The female has watched every movement of her mate, and if she did not assist him in capturing the swan, it was not from want of will, but merely because she felt full assurance that the power and courage of her lord were quite sufficient for the deed. She now sails to the spot, where he eagerly awaits her, and, when she has arrived, they together turn the breast of the luckless swan upwards, and gorge themselves with gore.'

Wilson is not less happy in his description of the manner

* We may be allowed to doubt the truth of the expression in the last clause of this sentence, which seems inserted for effect. So far from the victim being subjected to unnecessary torture, there is a remarkable instinct given to animals of prey, by which they know how to dispatch their quarry with as little pain as possible, and this they in general practically effect.

in which the white-headed eagle obtains a repast of fish. He avails himself generally, it seems, of the labours of others, and especially of the osprey, or fish-hawk, which he forces to deliver up his prey. After describing the variety of the feathered tribes within the view of the eagle, as he sits 'elevated on the high dead limb of some gigantic tree,' the naturalist thus proceeds: High over all these hovers one whose action instantly arrests his attention. By his wide curvature of wing, and sudden suspension in the air, he knows him to be the fish-hawk, settling over some devoted victim of the deep. His eye kindles at the sight, and balancing himself with halfopen wings on the branch, he watches the result. Down, rapid as an arrow, from heaven descends the object of his attention, the roar of its wings reaching the ear, as it disappears in the deep, making the surges foam around. At this moment the eager looks of the eagle are all ardour; and levelling his neck for flight, he sees the fish-hawk once more emerge struggling with his prey, and mounting in the air with screams of exultation. These are the signals for our hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, and soon gains on the fish-hawk. Each exerts his utmost to mount above the other, displaying in these rencounters the most elegant and sublime aerial evolutions. The unencumbered eagle rapidly advances, and is just on the point of reaching his opponent, when, with a sudden scream, probably of despair and honest execration, the latter drops his fish. The eagle, poising himself for a moment, as if to take more certain aim, descends like a whirlwind, snatches it in its grasp ere it reaches the water, and bears his ill-gotten booty silently away to the woods.

NINTH WEEK-SATURDAY.

PREDACEOUS ANIMALS.-THEIR OFFICES IN NATURE.

I HAVE already more than once adverted to the remarkable, and, in some respects, mysterious arrangement, by which cer