166 THE KINGFISHER. 
necessity of diving for a livelihood. I do not care if 
thou takest all the eels in the lake. Thou art wel- 
come to them. I am well aware that thy stomach 
requires a frequent and alarge supply. So, pr’ythee, 
help thyself. 
NOTES ON THE HABITS OF THE KING- 
FISHER. 
** Perque dies placidos hiberno tempore septem 
Incubat Halcyone pendentibus zquore nidis.’* 
Ovid. Met., lib. xi. 
WuEN the delicious season of spring sets in, I often 
get up into the topmost branches of a wide-spread- 
ing oak; and there, taking the Metamorphoses out 
of my pocket, I read the sorrows of poor Haleyone. 
A brook runs close by the tree, and on its bank I 
have fixed a stump for a resting-place to the king- 
fisher. . On it, this pretty bird will tarry for a while 
in passing up and down, and then plunge into the 
stream, and bring out a fish. My elevated station 
on the oak gives me a fine opportunity of admiring 
its back, as it darts along beneath me. When the 
sunbeam is upon it, no words can do justice to the 
beauty of the glowing azure which attracts the eye. 
Modern ornithologists have thought fit to remove 
the kingfisher from the land birds, and assign it a 
place amongst the water-fowl. To me the change 
appears a bad one; and I could wish to see it 
brought back again to the original situation in which 
