130 THE ROOK. 
us can “swim surprisingly.” The mere motion of 
its legs, to propel its floating body towards land, in 
order to escape from certain death on an element 
where it was never intended by Nature to exist, even 
for the space of one short hour, has been magnified 
by Mr. Audubon into an important act of “swimming 
surprisingly.” 
If the admirers of Mr. Audubon should try to 
force us to agree with their great naturalist, that 
partridges can “swim surprisingly,” then it behoves 
us to call upon them to declare that every bird in 
the creation can swim. Our little tomtit, till nowa 
land bird, must be proclaimed to swim surprisingly, 
and have a place amongst the waterfowl; because, 
on tumbling accidentally into a washing-tub, he has _ 
*‘ muscular power sufficient to keep up a protracted 
struggle ” till he reaches the side. 
ON THE HABITS OF THE ROOK. 
Last year I partly promised that, on some dis- 
mal winter's evening, I would sit me down, and 
write the history of the rook. The period has now 
arrived. Nothing can be more gloomy and tem- 
pestuous than the present aspect of the heavens. 
The wind is roaring through the naked branches 
of the sycamores, the rain beats fiercely on the 
eastern windows, and the dashing of the waves 
against the walls of the island, warns us that 
one of November's dark and stormy nights is close 
at hand; such a night, probably, as that in which 
