as Statius expresses it, may in some measure be vindicated.' The same author also is more particular about the floating of the nest, which he says is built near banks in the water, but without any fastening, so that it rises and falls as that does. To make its nest, it collects an amazing quantity of grass, water-plants,' &c.; and he adds, it should seem wonderful how they are hatched, as the water rises through the nest and keeps them wet; but the natural warmth of the bird bringing on a fermentation in the vegetables, which are full a foot thick, makes a hot-bed fit for the purpose.' If our young student, upon reading this very questionable doctrine, turn to this Dictionary, page 127, he will learn that Colonel Montagu uniformly found the nests cold, and that, taking into account the chemical principles of fermentation, it was impossible they could be warm.

"But Pennant also mentions a circumstance of much more interest in reference to the original enquiry, when he says that this bird lays five or six white eggs, and always covers them when it quits the nest,'the very point to ascertain which the research was begun. With this authority, supported as it is by Montagu, most students might rest satisfied, but the ardent naturalist never arrives at any conclusion like this, without bringing all the facts within his knowledge to bear upon it, in order to elucidate connecting causes and consequences; for the fact being ascertained of the mother bird covering her eggs, it becomes interesting to enquire why she does this.

"It is admitted by all the naturalists already quoted, that the nest in question is built on moist ground, if not actually touching the water, and that part at least of the materials consist of moist waterplants. Now, it is indispensable to hatching, that the eggs be kept at a high temperature, and not be suffered for a moment to cool. The natural heat of the bird itself is sufficient for this purpose, without the heat of fermentation, erroneously supposed by Pennant; but if she quits them for a moment to go in pursuit of food, or to withdraw the attention of an intruding water-spaniel, or a prying naturalist, their near vicinity to moist plants or to water, would certainly prove fatal to the embryo chicks. In order then to prevent her brood from being destroyed by cold, the careful bird covers the eggs with a quantity of dry hay, to keep them warm till her return.

"By keeping this interesting fact in his mind, our young naturalist may subsequently find that other birds employ

the same, or similar devices. The carrioncrow, (Corvus corone,) for example, who lines her nest with wool and rabbits' fur, always covers her eggs with a quantity of this before leaving her nest, no doubt, for the same reason that the dabchick employs hay. Again, several birds of very different habits, such as the wood-wren, (Sylvia sibilatrix,) and the hay-bird, (Sylvia trochilus,) construct a permanent arch of moss and dried grass over their nests. leaving a narrow entrance in the side. Having recently had occasion to investigate the structure of various nests with some minuteness, I have been led to adopt the opinion, that the arched coping, or dome, so remarkable in several small birds for ingenious and beautiful workmanship, is designed to preserve their animal heat from being dissipated during the process of incubation; an opinion which appears to be corroborated by the fact of our native birds that thus cover in their nests at the top, being all very small, Among these, besides the wood-wren and the hay-bird, are the common wren, the chiff-chaff, (Sylvia hipolais,) the goldcrested wren, the bottle-tit, (Purus caudatus, RAY,) and the dipper, (Cinclus aquaticus, BECHSTEIN.) There are other birds, no doubt, little larger than these, such as the blackcap and the babillard, (Curruca garrula, BRISSON,) which do not build domed nests; but it is worthy of remark, that the latter usually lay much fewer eggs; the babillard seldom more than four, and the blackcap four or five; while the gold-crested wren lays from seven to ten, the bottle-tit from nine to twelve, and the common wren from eight to (some say) fourteen, and even twenty. It will follow of course, that in order to hatch so large a number, these little birds require all their animal heat to be concentrated and preserved from being dissipated. The dipper, indeed, lays but five or six eggs, and weighs from six to eight times more than any of our other dome builders; but it is to be recollected, that, from its being a water bird, and building near water, it may have more occasion to 'all appliances' to concentrate its heat. In tropical countries, where the heat is great, such domed nests are very common, and are probably intended to protect the mother birds, while hatching, from the intense heat of a perpendicular sun; though most naturalists think they are designed to avert the intrusion of snakes, forgetting that snakes would more naturally run their heads into a nest with a small side entrance, than if it were open above. A circumstance which fell under my observation, corroborative of

use

this remark, I have recorded under the article Hay Bird. Other birds, in warm countries, leave their eggs during the day exposed to the heat of the sun, and only sit upon them during the night, or in cloudy weather, when the temperature of the air is not sufficiently high,— -a fact which has given origin to the error, that the ostrich (Struthio camelus,) lays her eggs in the sand and abandons them to chance."

What, then, in the opinion of this acute observer and enquirer, is the use of what in Natural History is called a system? A methodical classification is useful in as far only as it may serve as a framework or a cabinet, into the partitions of which many little facts may be stored and dove-tailed, that would otherwise be scattered through the memory at random, at the great hazard of being lost. The advantage of a system of this kind, then, consists in its preserving such collections of facts, as a cabinet preserves a collection of specimens; and, provided the several facts be not too far separated from their usual associations, it matters little what other qualities the systems possess. Simplicity, indeed, must always be valuable, and a simple system may be likened to a plain unornamented cabinet, where the specimens hold a prominent place, and the cabinet itself is almost overlooked; while a complex system may, in the same way, be likened to a cabinet bedizened with grotesque carving and fretwork, the compart ments of which are "curiously cut," and fantastically arranged, consisting indeed chiefly of empty framework, without a useful fact, or an interesting specimen on which the mind can rest; and afterwards Mr Rennie says, with equal truth and boldness, of these same systemmongers, that the alphabet of their system is all they study, yet they scruple not to call themselves naturalists, and the alphabet of their system, Natural History, though they might, with equal propriety, call the twenty-four letters in a hornbook the History of England, and rank the village schoolmaster who teaches it with Hume or Lingard.

That some minds may be so constituted as to take pleasure in such nicknack study, is proved by the analo

gous pursuits of collectors of old coins and medals, not for their utility, but solely on account of their rarity, or to perfect a series; yet it would be as preposterous to rank such mere collectors with a man like Niebuhr, who investigated medallion inscriptions, in order to elucidate the history of Rome, as it would be to rank a mere systematist with Aristotle, Ray, or John Hunter.

A loud outcry will doubtless be raised against Professor Rennie on account of these opinions, by the self-appointed cabinet-ministers of nature, who are assuredly neither her secretaries nor her interpreters. He need not care for the abuse of such persons-he writes for those who aim at philosophical and extended views of nature. With all his admiration of the enthusiasm, devotion, and even genius of Linnæus, he cannot consider that extraordinary man a philosophic naturalist. Linnæus thought that the superiority of a naturalist depended upon his knowing the greatest number of species, and that the study of Natural History consisted in the collection, arrangement, and exhibition of the various productions of the earth. Unquestionably, by storing the memory with specific names and technical distinctions, " a good gossiping naturalist" might be made; but good gossiping naturalists are of all old women the most wearifu' and superfluous, and the breed should be subjected to all possible discouragements. A study, again, narrowed down as Linnæus narrowed it, and without reference to causes, effects, or the wise contrivances of the Creator, would never lead to the Natural History which Lord Bacon declares to be the basis of all science, and "fundamental to the erecting and building of a true philosophy." Nor is Professor Rennie singular in his just severities on Linnæus and his followers-for he backs them with the opinions of Dr Aikin, Professor Lindley, Mr White of Selborne, Mr Vigors, Mr MacLeay, Dr Fleming, and Dr Heineken; and sums up all by asserting the truth to be, that the Linnæan system mainly contributed to extinguish the genuine study of nature, and rendered it unpopular for many years, since every writer surrendered himself uncon

ditionally to its shackles, and, of course, repelled every student imbued with a particle of philosophy or of taste, or alive to the glorious beauties of the Creation.

What, in good truth, can be more puerile than to limit, as Linnæus did, his descriptions of specific character to twelve words-or than his division of one of his works into twelve parts, because there are twelve months in the year-and into three hundred and sixty-five paragraphs, to correspond to the number of days in the year! Thus, all that Linnæus tells us of the Bank Swallow (Hirundo riparia-RAY,) is contained in the following twelve words :- H. riparia, cinerea, gula abdomineque albis-Habitat in Europa collibus arenosis abruptis, foramine serpentino." This is all we are taught to believe" that the industry of man has been able to discover concerning it!" Pennant and Latham are nearly as brief and just as meagre, and Cuvier himself does not improve on it, "by gravely adding this absurdity:" "Elle pond dans des trous le long des eaux. Il parait constant qu'elle s'engourdit pendant l'hiver, et même qu'elle passe cette saison au fond de l'eau des marais !" Compare this useless stuff with all the interesting facts "that the industry of man" has really accumulated concerning the same bird, and you will acknowledge that Linnæus, wonderful being as he was, may, without offence to any rational mind, be safely pronounced an ignoramus. The late Dr Heineken, speaking of Gmelin, a disciple of the Linnæan school, characterises him as having “an instinctive propensity towards the erroneous ;"and of that gifted person's "thirteenth edition of Linnæus, as it is called," quoth the Doctor, "I have had the good fortune never to be burdened with it--but in an evil hour, a kind friend bestowed on me the seven ponderous tomes of that kindred spirit, Turton." Temminck calls Gmelin's edition of Linnæus "the most undigested book in existence." Of Temminck's "Manuel d'Ornithologie," Rennie of course speaks highly, which, though essentially Linnæan, is much more circumstantial and accurate than is usual with the disciples of that school. It proves, however, that Temminck is much better acquainted

with collections of stuffed specimens than with living birds, except_such aquatic ones as frequent the shores of Holland, and in that point of view, it contrasts strongly with the Dictionary of Montagu-especially now that that book has been so greatly enriched from many sources by its editor. On turning from Montagu to Temminck, we indeed are made to feel the truth of the observation, that a lexicon or explanatory catalogue is of unquestionable and indispensable use, for the purpose of identifying the species which may come under observation, or chance to be connected with interesting discussion and detail; but that nobody beyond the barriers of Linnæanism could ever dream of designating any of these, useful though they be, a natural history, any more than of calling a book like Blair's Chronology the History of the World.

Mr Rennie concludes his sixty page preface to Montagu with three lists containing almost all the names of the writers of any note on ornithology-rudimental, literary, and philosophic naturalists. Under the first he includes all works consisting of descriptive catalogues, chiefly of museum specimens, arranged systematically; including either whole classes, or particular groups of animals; the latter termed Monographs, and only useful to aid the student in identifying specimens by form, colour, and structure, commonly omitting historical and philosophical details, and rarely like the beautiful account of the British swallows, which White of Selborne called by the now abused title of Monograph -such works, particularly the Monograph, often dealing in critical disquisitions about names, divisions, and the particular place a species, genus, or group, ought to occupy in the system adopted, exhibiting, in many instances, passages of worthless trifling, undeserving of perusal. The second comprehends all works consisting of notices and details, sometimes, though less frequently, derived from the observation of living Nature than from closet reading, but often highly interesting and valuable, though very commonly sprinkled with inaccuracies. The third contains works

thousands, and will continue to sell to the tune of tens of thousands.

In this state of public opinion and feeling on the subject of natural knowledge and science, what fears can be entertained for the success and glory of such an ornithologist as Audubon? We have seen that Professor Rennie classes him along with Levaillant, in the first order, into which none can be admitted but the sons of genius, who, in the spirit of philosophy, have pursued science over the bosom of Ñature. Of him, Swainson says, "there is a freshness and originality about his Essays, which can only be compared to the unrivalled biographies of Wilson. Both these men contemplated Nature as she really is, not as she is represented in books; they sought her in her sanctuaries. The shore, the mountain, and the forest, were alter nately their study, and there they drank the pure stream of knowledge at its fountain-head. The observations of such men are the cornerstones of every attempt to discover the system of Nature. Their writings will be consulted when our favourite theories shall have passed into oblivion. Ardently, therefore, do I hope, that M. Audubon will alternately become the historian and the painter of his favourite objects, that he will never be made a convert to any system, but instruct and delight us as a true and unprejudiced biographer of Nature." And Baron Cuvier, in a report made to the Royal Academy of Sciences of Paris, after having pronounced a splendid eulogium on Audubon's “Quatre cents dessins qui contiennent a-peu pres deux mille figures," thus concludes his " compte verbal." "Formerly European naturalists had to make known to America the treasures she possessed; but now the Mitchells, the Harlans, the Wilsons, the Charles Bonapartes, have repaid with interest the debt which America owed to Europe. The History of the Birds of the United States, by Wilson, already equals in elegance our most beautiful works in ornithology. If ever that of M. Audubon be completed, then it will have to be granted that America, in magnificence of execution, has surpassed the Old World." But before speaking of the magnificent design of Audubon, now

fast being accomplished, let us first acquaint our readers with the Man. In an auto-biographical sketch would that it had been a finished picture-prefixed to the volume now before us, he exhibits many traits of his simple, single-hearted, enthusiastic, enterprising, and persevering character, which it is impossible to regard without affectionate admiration. He calls himself, in the pride of genius and patriotism, an "American Woodsman." And when some five years ago, we first set eyes on him in a party of literati, in" stately Edinborough throned on Crags," he was such an American woodsman as took the shine out of us modern Athe nians. Though dressed, of course, somewhat after the fashion of ourselves, his long raven locks hung curling over his shoulders, yet unshorn from the wilderness. They were shaded across his open forehead with a simple elegance, such as a civilized Christian might be supposed to give his " fell of hair," when practising every man his own perruquier," in some liquid mirror in the forest-glade, employing, perhaps, for a comb, the claw of the Bald Eagle. His sallow finefeatured face bespoke a sort of wild independence, and then such an eye

keen as that of the falcon! His foreign accent and broken English speech-for he is of French descent

removed him still farther out of the commonplace circle of this everyday world of ours-and his whole demeanour-it might be with us partly imagination was coloured to our thought by a character of conscious freedom and dignity, which he had habitually acquired in his long and lonely wanderings among the woods, where he had lived in the uncompanioned love and delight of Nature, and in the studious observation of all the ways of her winged children, that for ever fluttered over his paths, and roosted on the tree at whose feet he lay at night, beholding them still the sole images that haunted his dreams. All this, we admit, must have had over it a strong tincture of imagination; for we had been told of his wandering life and his wonderful pencil; but the entire appearance of the man was most appropriate to what had for so many years been his calling, and bore upon