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On the Destruction of Hirds. 
[The following forms an admirable pendant to Mr. Marshall’s article in 
our last; and we trust that it will tend still further to increase the good 
opinion of ‘our feathered friends,” which is happily growing up amongst 
us.—Ep. ] 
N bygone days, thousands of acres of furze and underwood 
furnished happy homes for many a bird, and the sparrows re- 
velled in the then prevalent thatched buildings; and herein we 
have something that partly justified, at that time, the war of 
extermination declared against birds ; but now, times are changed. 
The forest and the common are gone, so are the thatched 
buildings: while the hedges are grubbed, and the poor birds 
driven into a very limited space. The parks and shrubberies, 
the church tower, and the chimney top, are the only places left 
in which the feathered tribe may build and rear their young: 
while, on the other hand, their mortal enemy, man, is ever 
anxious to play the sportsman, apd practise on the poor remnant 
that is left. Hence the very proper cry against the destruction 
of small birds, and of the good they do in keeping under the insects, 
whether caterpillar, grub, or fly, which destroy crops of fruit and 
corn wholesale, and increase as their foes decrease. 
When, four years ago, I came to my present residence, the 
shrubberies teemed with the feathered tribe, in consequence 
of the encouragement of birds by my predecessor. Wanting fruit, 
I declared war against the birds; ‘‘from early morn to dewy 
eve,” there was I with my gun, till I reduced my supposed enemies 
so much that my garden was as still as the grave, except when 
I chanced to walk there : when some Sparrow or Finch would give 
the warning to his mates, for birds and beasts can talk to one 
another as well as my readers can; indeed, the language 
of bird and beast is now so familiar to me that I can always tell 
pretty well ‘“‘what’s up”; but more of this anon. ‘The gooseberry 
trees put forth a goodly promise, and I looked forward with hope: 
