306 THE ROOK. 



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 Tarn 

 O'Shanter unfortunately peeped into Kirk Alloway. Foreigners tell 

 us that on these nights Englishmen are prone to use the knife, or a 

 piece of twisted hemp, to calm their agitated spirits. For my own 

 part, I must say that I have an insuperable repugnance to such 

 anodynes ; and were a host of blue devils conjured up by Novem- 

 ber's fogs just now to assail me, I would prefer combating the 

 phantoms with the weapons of ornithology, rather than run any risk 

 of disturbing the economy of my jugular vein, by a process produc- 

 tive of very unpleasant sensations, before it lulls one to rest. 



According to my promise, I will now pen down a few remarks on 

 the habits of the rook, which bird, in good old sensible times, was 

 styled frugilegus. It is now pronounced to be prczdatorius. Who 

 knows but that our great ones in ornithology may ultimately deter- 

 mine to call it up to the house of hawks ? 



If this useful bird were not so closely allied to the carrion crow in 

 colour and in shape, we should see it sent up to the tables of the 

 rich as often as we see the pigeon. But prejudice forbids the ap- 

 pearance of broiled rook in the lordly mansion. If we wish to 

 partake of- it, we must repair to the cottage of the lowly swain, or, 

 here and there, to the hall of the homely country squire, whose 

 kitchen has never been blessed by the presence of a first-rate cook, 

 and whose yearnings for a good and wholesome dish are not stifled 

 by the fear of what a too highly polished world will say. 



There is no wild bird in England so completely gregarious as the 

 rook, or so regular in its daily movements. The ringdoves will 

 assemble in countless multitudes, the finches will unite in vast 

 assemblies, and waterfowl will flock in thousands to the protected 

 lake during the dreary months of winter; but when the returning 

 sun spreads joy and consolation over the face of nature, their con- 

 gregated numbers are dissolved, and the individuals retire in pairs 

 to propagate their respective species. The rook, however, remains 

 in society the year throughout. In flocks it builds its nest, in flocks 

 it seeks for food, and in flocks it retires to roost. 



