SECOND JOURNEY. 



Ill 



his axe, trying by a sturdy blow, often repeated, 

 whether the tree were sound or not. There are four- 

 teen species here ; the largest the size of a magpie, the 

 smallest no bigger than the wren. They are all beauti- 

 ful ; and the greater part of them have their heads 

 ornamented with a fine crest, movable at pleasure. 



It is said if you once give a dog a bad name, whether 

 innocent or guilty, he never loses it. It sticks close to 

 him wherever he goes. He has many a kick and many 

 a blow to bear on account of it ; and there is nobody 

 to stand up for him. The woodpecker is little better 

 off. The proprietors of woods, in Europe, have long 

 accused him of injuring their timber, by boring holes 

 in it, and letting in the water, which soon rots it. The 

 colonists in America have the same complaint against 

 him. Had he the power of speech, which Ovid's birds 

 possessed in days of yore, he could soon make a defence. 

 " Mighty lord of the woods," he would say to man, 

 " why do you wrongfully accuse me 1 why do you hunt 

 me up and down to death for an imaginary offence ? I 

 have never spoiled a leaf of your property, much less 

 your wood. Your merciless shot strikes me, at the 

 very time I am doing you a service. But your short- 

 sightedness will not let you see it, or your pride is above 

 examining closely the actions of so insignificant a little 

 bird as I am. If there be that spark of feeling in 

 your breast, which they say man possesses, or ought to 

 possess, above all other animals, clo a poor injured 

 creature a little kindness, and watch me in your woods 

 only for one day. I never wound your healthy trees. 

 I should perish for want in the attempt. The sound 

 bark would easily resist the force of my bill ; and were 

 I even to pierce through it, there would be nothing 



