can never be compared to this jewel of Nature, who has placed it in the order of birds at the bottom of the scale of magnitude-maximè miranda in minimis -while all the gifts, which are only shared among others-nimbleness, rapidity, sprightliness, grace, and rich decoration-have been profusely bestowed upon this little favourite. The emerald, the ruby, the topaz, sparkle in its plumage, which is never soiled by the dust of the ground, for its whole life being aerial, it rarely lights on the turf. It dwells in the air, and flitting from flower to flower it seems to be itself a flower in freshness and splendour; it feeds on their nectar, and resides in climates where they blow in perpetual succession; for the few which migrate out of the tropics during the Summer, make but a transitory stay in the temperate zones. They follow the course of the sun, advancing or retiring with him, and flying on the wings of the zephyrs, wanton in eternal Spring." This delicate bird has been universally beloved and admired by every lover of Nature. Audubon compares it to the glittering fragment of a rainbow:-the American Indians give it a name, signifying a sunbeam, expressive of its brilliancy and rapidity of motion, and frequently wear it in their ears as a pendant ;-and the enthusiastic Alexander Wilson, in his history of its habits, makes it the subject of a poem, from which we cannot refrain giving an extract: When morning dawns, and the bless'd sun again Lifts his red glories from the eastern main, Then through our woodbines, wet with glittering dews, Sips, with inserted tube, the honied blooms, And chirps his gratitude as round he roams. For further information respecting these fairies of Creation, we refer our readers to the 1st vol. of The Naturalist's Library, published under the auspices of its highly-gifted editor, Sir W. Jardine. TO AUTUMN. SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness, With fruit the vines, that round the thatch'd-eaves run; And still more, later flowers for the bees, Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath, and all its twined flowers; And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cyder press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; THE GNAT. WHEN by the green-wood side, at Summer eve, -Ah, now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly, No guardian sylph, in golden panoply, Lifts the broad shield and points the glittering spear. I wake in horror, and dare sleep no more! "The poet has here fallen into one little error which a naturalist will perceive as readily as he himself would have detected a bad rhyme, or a false quantity, It is only the male gnat, Culex pipiens, which is adorned with feathery antlers (antenna); and what is a very remarkable fact, this male gnat never sucks blood, the female alone, whose antlers are not feathery, being of a sanguinary disposition."-Insect Miscellanies. THE WREN. WHY is the Cuckoo's melody preferr'd, Whose song And little Wren, that many a time hath sought THE COWSLIP. Now in my walk with sweet surprise Low, on a mossy bank it grew, Among the verdure crept ; A bee had nestled on its bloom, Oh, welcome, as a friend! I cried, When May, with Flora at her side, CLARE. Shelter'd by Nature's graceful hand, Gay in the milk-maid's path they stand, From Winter's farm-yard bondage freed Tossing his fore-lock o'er his mane To crop Where thick thy primrose blossoms play, O'er coppice lawns and dells, Whose simple sweets with curious skill Nor envy France the vine; While many a festal cup they fill Of Britain's homely wine. Perhaps from Nature's earliest May, Thy self-renewing race Have breath'd their balmy lives away And oh till Nature's final doom |