them with unerring certainty, and gallop away, dragging after them the ensnared victims. These gigantic birds, which are in length between three and four feet, and from nine to ten in expanse of their wings, are by no means formidable; they are not ferocious, and their talons, not being intended to seize living prey, are too feeble to lacerate. The natives do not fear them, and are accustomed, with their children, to sleep near their resort, exposed to attack, were this ever to be apprehended. Of the strength of the condor, and its tenacity of life, we have many authentic accounts. Captain Head relates an attempt of one of his Cornish miners to overcome one of these animals gorged with food, when, after a severe struggle of an hour, the man was obliged to leave his victory incomplete. Humboldt mentions the particulars of a cruel experiment made by some Indians in his presence, to show the strength of the condor's vital powers. It was hanged by the neck on a tree for several minutes, and pulled forcibly by the feet, yet, when released, it rose and walked about as if nothing had occurred to affect it. It was then shot at with a pistol within four paces, and it was not till the fourth ball struck its thigh, that it was brought to the ground; nor did it die of its wounds till after an interval of half an hour.

While sailing at ease in the air, the condor exhibits a noble spectacle of grace and majesty, which cannot be regarded without admiration. To see him, with expanded wings, wheeling round the topmost summits of the Andes, or sweeping down in a series of gyrations from the upper sky, each circle contracting as the earth is neared, is represented by travellers, as a sublime and imposing sight.* The vulture is found in most parts of Europe, where pursues its useful office of destroying dead carcasses; but it is chiefly numerous in the warmer regions of the earth, where decomposition goes on rapidly, and the noxious effluvia arising from decaying animal substances might, without the interference of this bird, be both andexterity on horseback, in seizing the wild cattle and horses which abound in South America.

it

* Introduction to the Study of Birds,' p. 24, 25.

noying and destructive. In Egypt, the vulture is of singular service. There are great flocks of them in the neighborhood of Grand Cairo, which no person is permitted to destroy. The service which they render the inhabitants, is, the devouring all the carrion and filth of that great city. "They are commonly seen," says Goldsmith, "in company with the wild dogs of the country, tearing a carcass very deliberately together. This odd association produces no quarrels; the birds and quadrupeds seem to live amicably, and nothing but harmony subsists between them. The wonder is still the greater, as both are extremely rapacious, and both lean and bony to a very great degree, probably having no great plenty, even of the wretched food on which they subsist."*

The vulture may be justly called the scavenger among the winged tribes. For this important, though ignoble, department, it is admirably fitted by Nature. Its far-seeing eye, its powerful wing, its rapacious appetite, its decided preference for carrion, all mark it out, as appointed to this special office by the fiat of its Maker. It fulfils its appointed duty with wonderful efficiency. Of one species, the griffon, which is widely diffused, it is said, by a celebrated naturalist, that "when once it has made a lodgement on its prey, it rarely quits the banquet while a morsel of flesh remains, so that it is not uncommon to see it perched upon a putrefying corpse for several successive days." Of another, which inhabits the south of Africa, Kolben says, "I have been often a spectator of the manner in which they have anatomized a dead body; I say anatomized, for no artist in the world could have done it more cleanly. They have a wonderful method of separating the flesh from the bones, and yet leaving the skin quite entire." Of all the different kinds, it may be said, in general, that Nature has bestowed upon them a most voracious and almost insatiable desire to devour, under different habits suited to their respective localities.

There is, in this genus, a remarkable instance of the ten*Animated Nature,' Article, Vulture.

dency in nature, already noticed, of one group of animals to pass insensibly, and by intervening forms and instincts, into another. I allude to the lämmergeyer, or bearded. vulture, a species nearly allied, in many particulars, to the eagle family, and yet possessing too many characteristics of the class we have been considering, to suffer us to mistake its true place among the winged tribes. This bird emulates the eagle in its daring and rapacious habits. "Sailing in the air, above the snow-clad summits of the stupendous Alps," says the author of a recent publication, "it watches, until the unwary chamois approaches the edge of a precipice, or traverses the pass of a narrow ledge, and then, sudden and impetuous as the avalanche of its native regions, down it rushes, hurling the helpless animal into the abyss below, when, proudly whirling round for a few gyrations, as if to contemplate the effects of its sanguinary deed, it plunges down to gorge on the yet quivering flesh." Bruce, in his Travels,' gives a remarkable instance of the boldness and voracity of this bird. His servants were preparing dinner on the summit of a lofty mountain, when a bearded vulture slowly advanced, and at length fairly seated himself within the ring which they had formed. The affrighted natives started up, and ran for their lances and shields; and the bird, after an ineffectual attempt to extract a portion of their meat from the boiling water, seized a large piece in each of his talons from a platter that stood by, and carried them off slowly along the ground, as he came. After an interval of a few minutes, the vulture returned for a second freight, but was shot by the traveller before it could carry its purpose into effect.

NINTH WEEK-FRIDAY.

BIRDS OF PREY.-THE EAGLE.

THE eagle, which, like the lion among quadrupeds, is the acknowledged king of that division of nature to

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which it belongs, is ranked among the order of falcons. The following spirited description of it, is given by a recent writer on the natural history of birds. They live by slaughter; they carry on a war of ruthless extermination, and surround their lonely nests with the relics of many a bloody feast. Their port, is free and noble, their eyes, piercing, their body, firm and compact, their flight, rapid and impetuous, their beak and talons, are hooked, sharp, and formidable. They live alone, or in pairs; some on the cliffs of the seashore, some on the highest mountains, some among the secluded recesses of the woods, and some on wide heaths and moors. busy and active in the destruction of life. Some, perched on a rocky height, or on the topmost branches of a tree, mark their prey at a distance, and, rapid as an arrow, launch upon the fated quarry; some skim our fields and woods, and pounce suddenly and silently on the unsuspecting victim; they soar aloft, and sweep down like a thunderbolt upon their prey while in the air; or glide upon it obliquely, and thus skim it from the surface of the earth. All, however, are not of equal courage; some, attack birds and quadrupeds, larger than themselves, and capable of making resistance; others, content themselves with feeble animals, lizards, snakes, frogs, mice, and the like. The females exceed the males in size and power. ""*

From this numerous and diversified class, I select the white-headed eagle of America, which is emblazoned on the national standard of the United States, and is spread nearly over the whole northern division of the New World. I do this for two reasons; first, because it is one of the most powerful of the eagle family, and furnishes, in itself, an example of a bird which feeds on prey both from the land and waters; and, secondly, that I may have an opportunity of introducing the graphic and spirited descriptions of two eminent and eloquent naturalists, who bring, as it were, before our very eyes, this tyrant and scourge of the inferior creation. The following is Audubon's account of the royal bird's manner of capturing the wild swan. "To give you some idea of the nature of this bird,

* Study of Birds, p. 35, 36.

permit me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while approaching winter brings millions of waterfowl, on whistling wings, from the countries of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a season. The eagle is seen, perched in an erect attitude, on the highest summit of the tallest tree, by the margin of the broad stream. His glistening, but stern, eye, looks over the vast expanse; he listens, attentively, to every sound, which comes to his quick ear, from afar, glancing now and then on the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and, should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to continue patient. At this wellknown call, the male partly opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and again all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the teal, the widgeon, the mallard, and others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the current, but the eagle heeds them not. They are, at that time, beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild, trumpet-like sound of a yet distant, but approaching swan, is heard. A shriek from the female eagle comes across the stream; for, kind reader, she is fully as alert as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and, with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight; her long neck is stretched forward; her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very legs are spread behind her tail to aid her flight. She approaches, however. The eagle has marked her for his prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird starts from his perch, in full preparation for the chase, with an awful scream, that, to the swan's ear, brings more terror, than the report of the large duck-gun. Now is the moment to witness the eagle's