He came out from his hiding-place and caught it, while the brawling flock scattered to a respectful distance. He then, in a singular whim, took the owl, and pinned it with a piece of twine and pegs firmly to the earth, on its back, and held the struggling crow within reach of its claws, when it was instantly griped with a death-hold. Such a rueful squalling as the poor wretch set up, may be conceived by those who know the power of their lungs.

The genius did not think it necessary to hide himself this time, but coolly stood off some thirty or forty paces to wait the result. The cries of their suffering brother brought not only every crow in the field around him at once to the rescue, but the deafening hurrah of their united voices spread the alarm far and wide, till the whole district was aroused, and in a little while the very sky was darkened with their black wings, and ringing with their clamors. All the terrors of gunpowder were forgotten, and they were almost piled over the owl and his victim, screaming and battling for his release, regardless, in their valorous sympathy, of the deadly hail which was crashing amongst them.

With a relentless gusto, the fellow continued to ply ramrod and trigger, until the ground was strewed like a battlefield with the dead or fluttering wounded. That "practical humorist" deserved to have been hung with his head down, till the buzzards picked his eyes out! This was worse than what Mr. Audubon indignantly terms "the base artifice of laying poisoned grain along the fields to tempt the poor birds!" Hear his merciful eloquence reason with bigoted ignorance in behalf of this sadly persecuted, but interesting and useful bird:

The crow devours myriads of grubs every day of the year, that might lay waste the farmer's fields; it destroys quadru peds innumerable, every one of which is an enemy to his poultry and his flocks. Why then should the farmer be so ungrateful when he sees such services rendered to him by his providential friend, as to persecute that friend to death?

Unless he plead ignorance, surely he ought to be found guilty at the bar of common sense. Were the soil of the United States like that of some other countries, nearly exhausted by long-continued cultivation, human selfishness in such a matter might be excused, and our people might look on our crows as other people look on theirs; but every individual in the land is aware of the superabundance of food that exists among us, and of which a portion may well be spared for the feathered beings that tend to enhance our pleasures by the sweetness of their song-the innocence of their lives or their curious habits. Did not every American open his door and his heart to the wearied traveller, and afford him food, comfort and rest, I would at once give up the argument; but when I know by experience, the generosity of the people, I cannot but wish that they would reflect a little, and become more indulgent towards our poor, humble, harmless, and ever most serviceable bird-the crow!"

A crow-roost is one of the most singular places that ever mortal found himself in. Mr. Audubon speaks of their roosting by the "margins of ponds, lakes and rivers, upon the rank weeds and cat-tails," but I met them while hunting among the hills of the Green River country, Kentucky, roosting in a very different manner. I saw them streaming over my head, in great numbers, one evening, and hearing a most unusual noise in the direction they all seemed to pursue, my curiosity induced me to follow on, and see what it meant. As I advanced, the sound grew in volume, until at last, as I rounded the abrupt angle of a hill side, covered with a tall growth of young black oaks, it burst upon me with a commingled roar of barking notes and beating wings, that was positively stunning. All around for the space of half an acre, the cracking trees were bent beneath multiplied thousands of crows, shifting and flapping, with unceasing movement; every one screaming his vociferous caw in boisterous emulation. It resembled a pigeon-roost very closely, except that it was not so extensive or grand; and it differed,

furthermore, in the fact, that by the time dark had set in, they were all quiet-sitting, black and still, in heaped cones, as they were defined against the dim sky; while in a pigeon roost, the heavy thundering of restless wings continues to roll on, without interval, until just before day.

This interesting fact in relation to the habitudes of the crow, and which I have observed to occur only in the winter, when they need the animal heat arising from the mutual contact of their many bodies as a protection from the extremities of cold, is an extraordinary example of that reasoning adaptation of the means to the end upon which I insist.

This same incident, of the departure upon so large a scale of every creature from its usual habits, under the force of cir cumstances, is only paralleled by another fact which, though not mentioned either in any of the books of Natural History, I know to be strictly true. It refers to an occasional mode of Hybernating resorted to by the Prairie Hen, or Pinnated Grouse.

The most extraordinary phenomenon produced by the necessities of the climate, and as a protection against the terrible winds which sweep over these apparently illimitable levels, at the approach of winter, consists, in the assembling of these birds, from a distance of many miles around, to roost on the same spot, something after the manner of the Wild Pigeon. This fact seems also to have escaped Mr. Audubon's notice.

At the opening of winter, a spot is selected, on the open prairies, in the upper part of the Missouri country, which is more sheltered than the surrounding region, by the character of the ground, from the biting force of the north-west winds. Here the Prairie Hens begin to assemble early in the evening, and by the time dusk comes on immense numbers are collected. They approach the scene in small flocks, in a leisurely manner, by short flights. They approach the place of gathering silently, with nothing of that whirr of wings, for which they are noted when they are suddenly put up, but they make ample amends when they arrive; as in the Pigeon

roost, there is a continual roar, caused by the restless shifting of the birds, and sounds of impatient struggle emitted by them, which can be heard distinctly for several miles. The numbers collected are incalculably immense, since the space covered sometimes extends for over a mile in length, with a breadth determined by the character of the ground.

This is a most astonishing scene. When approached in the early part of the night on horseback, the hubbub is strangely discordant, and overwhelmingly deafening. They will permit themselves to be killed in great numbers with sticks, or any convenient weapon, without the necessity of using guns. They, however, when frequently disturbed in the first of the season, will easily change their roosting-place, but when the heavy snows have fallen, by melting which by the heat of their bodies, and by trampling it down, they have formed a sort of sheltered yard, the outside walls of which defend them against the winds, they are not easily driven away by any degree of persecution. Indeed, at this time, they be come so emaciated as to afford but little inducement to any human persecutors, by whom they are seldom troubled, indeed, on account of the remoteness of these locations; from foxes, wolves, hawks, and owls, &c., their natural enemies, they have, of course, to expect no mercy at any time.

The noise of their restless cluckings, flutterings and shiftings, begins to subside a few hours after dark. The birds have now arranged themselves for the night, nestled as close as they can be wedged-every bird with his breast turned to the quarter in which the wind may be prevailing. This scene is one of the most curious that can be imagined, especially when they have the moonlight on the snow to contrast with their dark backs. At this time, they may be killed by cart-loads, as only those in the immediate neighborhood of the aggressor are disturbed, apparently. They rise to the height of a few feet, with a stupefied and aimless fluttering, and plunge into the snow, within a short distance, where they are easily taken by the hand. In these helpless conditions, such immense

numbers are destroyed that the family would be in danger of rapid extermination, but that the fecundity of the survi vors nearly keeps pace with the many fatalities to which they are liable.

These birds are distributed over an immense northern territory, and though they are, everywhere in the more sheltered regions, found to exhibit the propensity to collect in numbers greater or smaller during the extreme cold weather in low spots where they will have some shelter from the accidental peculiarities of the locality, yet nowhere else except upon just these wide plains are they to be found in such astonishing congregations as we have here described. The universal habit of all this family of Gallinaciæ is rather to run and roost in little squads or flocks. Whence this difference in the habits of the same bird. Who knows? Ah, whence the difference? This is the question!

Now your metaphysical philosophers are as thick as blackbirds in cherry-time among us-and quite as fussy. Every village pot-house has a genius in ragged breeches and with a long score of "chalks" against him, who will prove to you that Christianity is a delusion, and the doctrine of immortality all nonsense, by such imposing logic as that "you can neither see a soul, hear a soul, taste a soul, smell a soul, nor-" an astounding climax which we would think of doubting to be true in his case-"feel a soul!" But, let them alone. It is all right. This is an age of progression and discovery.

"How many a vulgar Cato has compelled

His energies, no longer tameless then,

To mould a pin or fabricate a nail!

How many a Newton, to whose passive ken," &c.

Let them alone, we say. There is no telling what these "vulgar" Catos and Newtons may not accomplish. The chronicles of olden times are filled with wondrous tales, showing how they, once in awhile, shake off the crust, and