his own.

chiefly to that tender and melting sympathy, which made Him enter into the afflictions of others, and feel them as There is an exquisite grace in this part of our Lord's character, which it is impossible to view without emotion. When we hear Him comforting his disciples, we feel for Him the affection of a friend; when we see Him tenderly soothing the mourning sisters of Lazarus, and mingling his tears with theirs, we love Him as a brother; but when we observe Him, in the agonies of the cross, praying for his murderers, there is an interest excited in our hearts, which language has no words to describe. To the believer, this sentiment is inexpressibly delightful and endearing, as he is taught to conclude, that this Divine compassion is exercised towards himself. Jesus is "also touched with a feeling of our infirmities." He has carried with Him into heaven all that love for the children of men which He displayed whilst on earth. Of all who believe in his name, there is not a single individual, in whose welfare He does not feel a tender and affectionate interest. He takes a part in all our joys and sorrows. He makes use of that Divine authority with which He is invested, to cause all things to work together for our good.

What an amiable view does this afford us of the Divine administration! How admirably is it calculated to interest the best affections of the heart in the cause of religion; to draw us by the cords of love to the service of the Redeemer; and to give new energy to our faith, boldness to our hope, and relish to our enjoyments! "Wherefore, holy brethren," says St. Paul, "partakers of the heavenly calling, consider the Apostle and High Priest of our profession, Christ Jesus ;" and "come boldly unto the throne of grace, that you may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need."

NINTH WEEK-MONDAY.

BIRDS. THEIR GREGARIOUS HABITS.

ONE of the most remarkable instincts of the lower animals, is that which induces them to congregate together, for some mutual object; and this propensity is attended with other instinctive habits, which seem necessary for giving the arrangement full effect in producing the intended object. The gregarious habits of the ant and the bee, among insects, have long been a subject of admiration; and, although in no case do we find these habits so perfect among the higher orders of the inferior creation, yet neither among birds nor beasts are they altogether wanting.

I have already noticed the propensity of various species of birds, to congregate, during the breeding season, and for the purpose of migration. But there are other occasions, in which there is obviously a mutual understanding among various families of the feathered tribes, and a banding together, for objects of reciprocal advantage. The chief inducement to this social disposition, appears to be, to guard against common dangers. It would seem, that many of the smaller birds are more timid when solitary, than when in the company of their kind; and that some sort of sympathetic feeling is diffused through a flock, which, while it probably affords a social pleasure, increases in each a sense of mutual security. This may certainly be the case, even although they do not combine to defend themselves against a common enemy. It is well known, that various species of birds, when they feed in company, have watchers or sentinels placed on some elevated situation, to give them warning on the approach of danger. When a flock of sparrows, for example, alight in the corner of a wheat-field, we may always be certain of discovering one, or perhaps several, perched on some high spray in the adjoining hedgerow, prying into the probable design of every movement among men or animals, which lies within observation. The instant

the sentinel perceives any thing which he deems worthy of notice, he gives his wellknown signal, at which the whole flock hurry off from the banquet with the utmost celerity and trepidation. These fears are, for the most part, only momentary; for, as soon as the birds ascertain that there is no immediate danger, they hasten back to finish their meal, or light on some other part of the field, where they again feed under the protection of their sentinels.

"From all that we have been able to observe," says Mr. Rennie, "there does not seem to be any thing like election or appointment of such sentinels. The fact appears rather to be, that, probably from being less impelled by the calls of hunger, the bird of the flock who chances to be the last in adventuring to alight, feels then reluctant to join his companions, in consequence of an instinctive foresight that they might all be thence exposed to danger." Whatever truth there may be in this, the paternal intention of the Creator, in implanting the instinct, is sufficiently conspicuous.

Rooks seem to be more particular even than sparrows, in having sentinels, while they are feeding, in parties, after the breeding season. These rook-sentinels are so vigilant, that it is by no means easy to get within shot of a foraging party; and hence it is popularly believed that rooks can smell gunpowder. Although this is a mistake, they do appear to have some knowledge of the danger arising from firearms, as any one may prove by levelling a walking-cane at a flock, when they will instantly fly off in great alarm. Such knowledge must be derived from experience. In confirmation of this, it is stated in some accounts of newly-discovered countries, that the birds were not at first frightened by the presenting of a fowlingpiece, but soon became so, after some experience of its effects.

The golden plover and the crane seem each to have a kind of king or leader, whom the whole flock obey. The latter class, Aristotle places at the head of gregarious birds; and Pliny says, that their sentinels "stand on one foot, and hold a little stone within the other, which, by falling from it, if they should chance to sleep, might awa

ken them and reprove them for their negligence." We are not obliged to believe this, although the historian Ammianus Marcellinus informs us, that, in imitation of their ingenuity, Alexander the Great was accustomed to rest a silver ball in his hand, suspended over a brass basin, which, if he began to doze, might, by falling, give an alarm, and preserve his vigilance.*

We do not often find instances among birds of mutual assistance, afforded in carrying on a common work, such as is frequently met with among insects, and sometimes, but much more rarely, among quadrupeds, of which latter instinct, the beaver is a memorable example. But besides the instance of the grosbeaks of Africa, which are said to unite their labors in building their nests, there are some well-attested cases of an occasional union of birds of the same species, to effect a special purpose. That of swallows to entomb a robber sparrow in a usurped nest, has already been mentioned.†

M. Dupont de Nemours gives another instance of the social instinct of the swallow exerting itself in a singular way, which fell under his own observation. The following is his account :- "I remarked a swallow which had unhappily, and I cannot imagine in what manner,slipped its foot into a slipknot of packthread, the other end of which was attached to a spout of the College of the Four Nations. Its strength was exhausted; it hung at the end of the thread, uttered cries, and sometimes raised itself, as if making an effort to fly away. All the swallows of the large basin between the bridges of the Tuilleries and the Pont Neuf, and perhaps from places more remote, had assembled, to the number of several thou

* Apud Aldrovandi Ornith. vol. iii. p. 137.

Spring,' Article, Nests of Swallows. Such a feat has been confidently rejected by Mr. Rennie as imaginary, on the ground of "the impossibility of so entombing, by means of clay, a bird with so powerful a bill as a sparrow."-Habits of Birds, p. 55. A sufficient answer to this theoretical objection may be given in the words of a character in the Castle Spectre," I did not say it was possible, I only said it was true." The bird is probably on such occasions terrified at its unusual situation, and so stupified as not to be aware that it could, by its own exertions, extricate itself.

sands. Their flight was like a cloud; all uttered a cry of pity and alarm. After some hesitation, and a tumultuous council, one of them fell upon a device for delivering their companion, communicated it to the rest, and began to put it into execution. Each took his place; all those who were at hand went in turn, as in the sport of running at a ring, and, in passing, struck the thread with their bills. These efforts, directed to one point, were continued every second, and even more frequently. Half an hour was passed in this kind of labor before the thread was severed, and the captive restored to liberty. But the flock, only a little diminished, remained until night, chattering continually, in a tone which no longer betrayed anxiety, and as if making mutual felicitations and recitals of their achievements."*

NINTH WEEK-TUESDAY.

DOMESTIC FOWLS. THE COCK, THE TURKEY, AND THE PEACOCK.

HAVING already given an account of some of the more remarkable faculties and habits of birds, I shall only select one or two species for particular description; and that which claims our first notice, on account of its usefulness to the human family, is the tribe of domestic fowls, in its different varieties. This species of birds is connected with a class, all of which seem to be intended for the special use of man, being of white and delicate flesh, and having short and concave wings, which prevent them from making long flights, and confine them much to the same locality; while they are quite harmless, and most of them easily tamed. Among these, we may rank

*Antoine, Animaux célebres, vol. ii. App. p. 18. Mr. Rennie, with unnecessary skepticism, also doubts the accuracy of this narrative. There may probably be in it some characteristic painting; but the leading fact is very analogous to that of building up the sparrow, and may be equally credited, notwithstanding its singularity.