STORIES FROM BIRDLAND. 



ftSPP:ClMEN of the egg of that 

 rara avis, the great auk, which 

 was discovered after twenty- 

 seven years in a disused attic in 

 the house of Lord Garvagh in England, 

 recalls to mind the tact that only 

 about seventy of these zoological treas- 

 ures are now known to exist. Of these 

 G. F. Rowley of Brighton possesses 

 half a dozen, while Prof. Alfred New- 

 ton of Cambridge, the well-known 

 zoological expert, has half that number. 

 The same gentleman discovered a 

 splendid set of ten, labeled " penguin 

 eggs," in the Royal College of Sur- 

 geons upward of thirty years ago, 

 while the university museum at Cam- 

 bridge possesses four, which were the 

 gift of the late Lord Lilford, whose 

 beautiful grounds at Oundle were a 

 veritable paradise of bird life. One of 

 these was brought to light in a farm- 

 house in Dorsetshire, and another 

 changed hands in Edinburgh for a 

 mere trihe. It is a remarkable fact 

 that, whereas in 1830 the market price 

 of a great auk's eggs was no more than 

 gi.25, Lord Garvagh's specimen was 

 bought from Dr. Troughton in 1869 

 for $320; Sir Vauncey Crewe, in 1894, 

 paid Si, 575 for one; in 1897, another 

 was knocked down in London for 

 Si, 470, and a slightly cracked specimen 

 went about the same time for $840; 

 not so long ago a couple of these eggs 

 was purchased at a country sale for 

 $ig and resold for $2,284. 



Some few years ago a robin took up 

 his abode near the communion table in 

 the old abbey at Bath, England, and 

 remained there for some considerable 

 time; his victualing department being 



presided over by a friendly verger, he 

 naturally had every inducement to re- 

 main, and remain he did. During 

 sermon time, with the exception of an 

 occasional chirp of approval, he pre- 

 served an exemplary silence, neither 

 coughing nor yawning, but when the 

 hymns were sung, and he perched him- 

 self on the communion rail, his voice 

 could be heard high above those of the 

 human singers. All redbreasts, how- 

 ever, do not behave so well, and one 

 at Ely cathedral some time ago carried 

 on in such a manner that he brought 

 disgrace on his tiny head. During the 

 service he behaved fairly well, but 

 when the clergyman ascended the pul- 

 pit and began to speak, the robin de- 

 liberately perched himself on an ad- 

 jacent pinnacle of the chancel screen 

 and began to sing, and the louder the 

 preacher spoke the greater volume of 

 sound proceeded from the irreverent 

 bird, till he had to be removed. 



The first place in the ranks of birds 

 was until lately given by naturalists to 

 eagles and hawks. The low-foreheaded 

 tyrants are now dethroned, and- the 

 highest development of the race is 

 reached in the family of the sparrows, 

 if the following story be true. A man 

 was feeding with breadcrumbs a wood 

 pigeon at his feet. One of the bird's 

 feathers, which was ruffled and out of 

 place, caught the eye of a sparrow; the 

 little bird flew down, seized the feather 

 in its beak and pulled its best. The 

 feather did not yield at once, and the 

 pigeon walked off with offended 

 dignity. The sparrow followed, still 

 holding on; and. in the end, flew off 

 triumphant with the trophy to its nest. 



DECEMBER. 



Down swept the chill wind from the moun- 

 tain peak, 

 From the snow five thousand summers old; 



On open wold and hill-top bleak 

 It had g-athered all the cold, 



And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's 

 cheek; 



It carried a shiver everywhere 



From the unleaf ed boughs and pastures bare; 



The little brook heard it and built a roof 



'Neath which he could house him, winter- 

 proof; 



All night by the white stars' frosty gleams 



He groined his arches and matched his beams; 

 Slender and clear were his crystal spars 

 As the lashes of light that trim the stars; 

 He sculptured every summer delight 

 In his halls and chambers out of sight. 



'Twas as if every image that mirrored lay 

 In his depths serene through the summer day, 

 Each fleeting shadow of earth and sky, 

 Ivest the happy model should be lost, 

 Had been mimicked in fairy masonry 

 By the elfin builders of the frost. 



— Lowell. 



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