behaved than his brother of the Old World; he has no naughty habits; he builds a nest of his own, and he is very faithful to his wife and children. Our cuckoos are of two kinds, the yellow-billed and the black-billed; both differ slightly from that of Europe. They arrive in May, and pass the summer with us. Their nests are said to be rather carelessly built, as though they had not thoroughly learned the art.
It is singular, that while the cuckoo of this part of the world pairs and builds its own nest, like most of its tribe, we have another bird who has the careless, reckless habits of the European cuckoo. It is well known that our cow-pen black-bird lays her eggs in the nests of other birds; and it is remarked that she generally chooses the nest of those much smaller than herself, like the summer yellow-bird, the blue-bird, song-sparrow, among our nicest and best-behaved birds. One might almost fancy, that like some unhappy women who have trifled with their own characters, the cow-bird is anxious that her daughters should be better behaved than herself, for she is careful to choose them the best foster-mothers; happily, such a course has often succeeded with human mothers, but with the bird it seems to fail. There is no such thing as reformation among them.
Wednesday, 6th.—Mild rain again. We have a word or two more to say about our rare birds, or at least those which are less common than our every-day flocks. Among these are a number besides the cuckoo, in which we feel an interest, chiefly on account of their European associations.
Let us begin with the chattering Magpie—“la gazza Ladra”—whose naughty tricks, and noisy tongue, are well known to us by reputation at least. They are very rare indeed in this State, but
