in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." (Matt. x. 16.)

But the dove, besides these testimonies in its favour, by which we are naturally inclined to regard it with interest, is mentioned in allusion to the visible appearance in which the Holy Spirit was seen to descend upon the Redeemer at his baptism: "And lo, the heavens were opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him." (Matt. iii. 16.) See also Mark i. 10; Luke iii. 22; and John i. 32:-" And John bare record, saying, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him."

Reader, when you see the dove, let it call to mind these passages of Holy Writ, and in your own meditations follow them out through all their bearings; the dove will not be seen then without even spiritual profit. We would add also, let it be a pattern to you of gentleness, meekness, truth, and obedience to the laws of your heavenly Father, who has laid down a better-defined and surer course for you, a surer guide to reason and conscience, than even the instincts of the turtle, the crane, and the swallow. Remember, too, that, like them, you are, while on earth, a sojourner in a strange land, your brighter home being in another sphere, where “thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself”:—

Where "everlasting spring abides

And never-withering flowers."

Thither at the appointed time will believers in Jesus, those who are faithful unto death, speed their heavenward flight, and leave earth's wintry scenes, the storm and the tempest, far behind.

THE PASSENGER PIGEON.

Of all the pigeons of America, the passenger pigeon (C. migratoria, Lin.), or wild pigeon, as it is there called, is the most remarkable. The accounts given of the prodigious multitudes in which it constantly associates, and of its migrating in droves of myriads, have been confirmed by the most credible testimony, though, as Wilson observes, they have no parallel as it regards "any other of the feathered tribes on the face of the earth with which naturalists are acquainted."

The Passenger Pigeon is spread throughout the greatest portion of North America, from Hudson's Bay over Canada, as far south

THE PASSENGER PIGEON.

as the Gulf of Mexico, but especially abounds in the wooded districts of the States. Of the wonderful powers of flight with which this beautiful bird is endowed we may form some idea from a statement of Audubon, who affirms that "Pigeons have been

killed in the neighbourhood of New York with their crops full of rice, which they must have collected in the fields of Georgia and Carolina, these districts being the nearest in which they could possibly have procured a supply of the food. As their power of digestion is so great that they will decompose food entirely in twelve hours, they must in this case have travelled between three and four hundred miles in six hours, which shows their speed to be at an average about one mile in a minute. A velocity such as this would enable one of these birds were it so inclined to visit the European continent in less than three days."

The same writer also well describes the migrations of these birds from their summer residence and breeding-place in search of food; the breeding-place, be it observed, is in the bosom of the beechwoods, occupying an area of many miles. "Not far from Shelbyville, in the state of Kentucky, about five years ago," says Wilson, "there was one of these breeding-places which stretched through the woods in nearly a north and south direction, was several miles in breadth, and was said to be upwards of forty miles in extent! In this tract almost every tree was furnished with nests, wherever the branches could accommodate them. The pigeons made their first appearance there about the 10th of April." Audubon observes, that a hundred nests or more are frequently to be seen on one tree, and that the number of eggs contained in each is two. The rearing of the young being completed, and, as may be well imagined, the beech-woods being cleared of the fallen mast, and the adjacent country despoiled of its grain, the flocks, increased by these additions to their number, leave the place till the ensuing season. Urged by the necessity of procuring a due supply of food, they traverse the country, lighting in the midst of abundance, and abandoning the spot when it no longer affords a supply. "In the autumn of 1813," says Audubon, "I left my house at Henderson, on the banks of the Ohio, on my way to

Louisville. In passing over the barrens, a few miles beyond Hardensburg, I observed the pigeons flying from north-east to south-west in greater numbers than I thought I had ever seen them before, and feeling an inclination to count the flocks that might pass within the reach of my eye in one hour, I dismounted, seated myself on an eminence, and began to mark with my pencil, making a dot for every flock that passed. In a short time, finding the task I had undertaken impracticable as the birds poured in in countless multitudes, I rose, and counting the dots then put down, found that a hundred and sixty-three had been made in twenty-one minutes. I travelled on, and still met more the farther I proceeded. The air was literally filled with pigeons; the light of noonday was obscured as by an eclipse; the dung fell in spots not unlike melting flakes of snow, and the continued buzz of wings had a tendency to lull my senses to repose." These flocks increased as he proceeded, but flew beyond rifle-shot, and were even undisturbed by the report of the discharge. "I cannot," he adds, "describe the extreme beauty of their aërial evolutions when a hawk chanced to press upon the rear of a flock. At once like a torrent, and with a noise like thunder, they rushed into a compact mass, pressing upon each other towards the centre. In these almost solid masses they darted forward in undulating and angular lines, descended and swept close over the earth with inconceivable velocity, mounted perpendicularly so as to resemble a vast column, and when high were seen wheeling and twisting within their continued lines, which then resembled the coils of a gigantic serpent." For three days the pigeons were passing in one vast stream, impregnating the air with their peculiar odour. As they passed the Ohio they flew lower, and then multitudes were slaughtered, and for a week "the population fed on no other flesh than that of pigeons, and talked of nothing but pigeons."

Of the number of pigeons contained in one of these mighty

flocks, and of the quantity of food such a flock must daily consume, both Wilson and Audubon have made calculations. "Let us," says the latter author, "take a column of one mile in breadth, which is far below the average size, and suppose it passing over us without interruption for three hours, at the rate above mentioned, of one mile in a minute. This will give us a parallelogram of one hundred and eighty miles by one, covering one hundred and eighty square miles. Allowing two pigeons to the square yard, we have 1,115,136,000, or one billion, one hundred and fifteen millions, one hundred and thirty-six thousand pigeons in one flock! As every pigeon daily consumes fully half a pint of food, the quantity necessary for supplying this vast multitude must be eight millions. seven hundred and twelve thousand bushels per day!" This is below Wilson's calculation, who gives three pigeons to the square yard. Yet this vast horde is fed by Him who multiplied the loaves and fishes for the multitude, and who satisfieth" the desire of every living thing."

Before alighting on the ground which offers an abundant repast, the flocks wheel round and round, and describe various beautiful evolutions, presenting now a sheet of fine blue, now of deep purple, as the upper or under surface of the living mass is presented to the eye. Having settled, they feed with great avidity, turning over every leaf, and passing along in ranks; thus, for miles, the forest is completely gleaned of the fallen mast before midday, when they settle on the trees to repose till sunset, at which period they depart en masse for the nightly roosting place, which is not unfrequently hundreds of miles distant. The roosting place and breeding place are quite distinct. Audubon rode through one of these roosting places, more than three miles in breadth and forty in length, on the banks of the Green River in Kentucky. "My first view of it," he says, "was about a fortnight subsequent to the period when they had made choice of it, and I arrived there