EUROPEAN WREN. J 9 



small birds were to be seen, unless a few Tits and Creepers. 

 Yet it is not the less true that at this season it prefers the vi- 

 cinity of houses. But the Wrens do not all in summer remove 

 to the wilds, any more than the Robins, many individuals of 

 both species remaining in gardens, shrubberies, and such shel- 

 tered places, where they breed, as well as in sequestered spots. 

 A pleasant little fable, of which the Wren is the hero, is told 

 by the Hebridians. At an assembly of the birds the Eagle 

 was boasting of his strength, asserting that he could mount 

 higher in the air than any of earth's inhabitants ; when up 

 started the little Wren, and flatly contradicted the tyrant, chal- 

 lenging him to a trial of speed. The eagle regarded his puny 

 rival with contempt, but accepting the challenge, or desirous 

 of displaying his powers, spread out his huge wings, and 

 launched into the air. Up rose the royal bird in majestic gy- 

 rations, over the assembled tribes, up beyond the mountain 

 tops, up beyond the streaks of grey vapour, up beyond the 

 specks and lines of the white cirri and cinocumuli that floated 

 in the blue ocean of ether, up until he seemed but a point in 

 the eye of the Goshawk and Peregrine, who watched his pro- 

 gress with more envy than admiration, and of the Raven, who 

 thought he could mount as high himself, — still up, until he 

 vanished entirely from the sight of most of the other birds, 

 who were not accustomed to look so far into the sky. But 

 where was the little Wren all this time 1 Had he crept with 

 shame into some hole, or been unwittingly trampled to death 

 by the broad foot of some gazing gander, or the still broader 

 of the pillar-legged pelican ? At length the eagle stops, gasp- 

 ing for breath, with swollen eyes and palpitating heart, un- 

 able to ascend a foot farther, and, spreading wide his wings 

 and tail, floats in the dazzling light. The little vain-glorious 

 thing that had defied him he knows has been left at least a 

 mile behind. But lo ! up again starts the Wren, who had 

 nimbly perched on the eagle's back, and kept himself concealed 

 among the feathers. With a hop, and a jerk of his tail, and 

 a glance of pride, up springs the little wren into the region of 

 vacuity, and fluttering there for a moment sings his song of 

 triumph. The eagle casts a glance of mortified pride upon him. 



