proprietor of the soil might accost him in a language that he would better understand. There cannot be a more beautiful spectacle than a seabird floating on the bosom of the air, with smoothlybalanced wing, in the very luxury of motion; nor to a mind susceptible of pleasure from the contemplation of beauty, or of sympathy in the happiness of God's creatures, can there be an object that he beholds with more delight; nor aught, on the other hand, with more pain, than that same bird struck on the wing by a merciless shot, brought down in a moment from its towering elevation, and for ever deprived of its wonted enjoyment. Happier its fate to be struck dead at once, than taken captive, maimed and disfigured, to spend the residue of its brief existence in scenes altogether foreign to its habits. Even the bird of prey with which we may have less sympathy, the hawk or the eagle, chained in captivity amid the fetid relics of herons, or other birds which have been given it to devour the fire of its eye extinguished, its plumage ruffled and sordid; its whole aspect sullen, hopeless, and sad-is a melancholy sight which few sensitive minds behold without pity; especially when they contrast its present state of captivity with its former freedom, when pursuing the game on the mountain heath, having the vast amplitude of heaven for its range, and Sailing with supreme dominion Thro' the azure depths of air.-GRAY. Pope describes a shot pheasant with his usual descriptive powers, but he exhausts his pity in a single interjection : "See from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings: Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, His purple crest, and scarlet circled eyes, The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?" The poet proceeds to describe what he calls the " pleasing toils" of the woods and fields; and how the fowler roves with "slaughtering guns,' "where doves in flocks the leafless tree o'ershade;" but he expresses no disap G probation of the slaughter of doves, woodcocks, lapwings, or larks, that" fall, and leave their little lives in air." A few of his mellifluous lines bestowed in expressing sorrow for their destruction, would have been no discredit to his genius as a poet, or his feelings as a man. The dove, for its innocence and its numerous poetical and religious associations; and the lark, day's harbinger, leaving its "little life in air," as it was mounting to "heaven's gate," with its morning hymn of gratitude and praise, and quivering its wings as with extacy to its own thrilling music, had surely some claim upon a son of the muses for a few elegiac strains. Let us see how a philosopher felt for the death of one of those "clamorous" birds, of which the poet briefly tells us that it "feels the leaden death." "I shall never forget" says Charles Fothergill," the remembrance of a little incident which occurred to me during my boyish days; an incident which many will deem trifling and unimportant, but which has been particularly interesting to my heart, as giving origin to sentiments and rules of action, which have since been very dear to me: "Besides a singular elegance of form and beauty of plumage, the eye of the common LAPWING is peculiarly soft and expressive : it is large, black, and full of lustre; rolling, as it seems to do, in liquid gems of dew. I had shot a bird of this beautiful species; but on taking it up, I found that it was not dead. I had wounded its breast; and some big drops of blood stained the pure whiteness of its feathers. As I held the helpless bird in my hand, hundreds of its companions hovered round my head, uttering continued shrieks of distress, and, by their plaintive cries, appeared to bemoan the fate of one to whom they were connected by ties of the most tender and interesting nature; whilst the poor wounded bird continually moaned, with a kind of inward, wailing note, expressive of the keenest anguish; and ever and anon it raised its drooping head, and turning towards the wound in its breast, touched it with its bill, and then looked up in my face, with an expression that I have no wish to forget, for * In the Philosophy of Natural History, p. 113. it had power to touch my heart, whilst yet a boy, when a thousand dry precepts in the academical closet would have been of no avail." With this is properly connected an anecdote of Lord Byron, which does more honour to his humane resolution, than many hundred of his verses to his genius. "The last bird" says he, "I ever fired at was an eagle, on the shore at the gulf of Lepanto, near Voslitza. It was only wounded, and I tried to save it, the eye was so bright; but it pined and died in a few days; and I never did since, and never will attempt the death of another bird."* Poets, both ancient and modern, have not failed to excite our sympathies for the lacerated affections of animals deprived of their young. Thus Virgil sings in pathetic strains of the nightingale lamenting all night long for her plundered nest.-Georg. iv. 511. "Philomel in poplar shades, alone, For her lost offspring pours a mother's moan, And fills the grove with sad repeated strains."-WHARTON. Thomson also introduces the stock-dove sorrowing for his murdered mate in numbers equally touching "The stock-dove only thro' the forest coos The sad idea of his murdered mate Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile, : Not only the gentler creatures, as the nightingale and the dove, have affections which bring them into alliance with human nature, but birds of prey and the most ferocious tenants of the forest. Even the polar bear, shaggy and uncouth as she appears, exhibits a love for her cubs indomitable even in the agonies of death. As proof of this, it may suffice to refer the reader to the well known account of the she-bear and her cubs, shot on the ice by the crew of the Carcass, one of the ships of Captain Phipps's voyage of discovery to the North Pole. 'It would have drawn tears of pity from any but the most unfeeling, to have marked the affectionate concern ex MOORE's Life of Lord Byron, vol. i. p. 509. pressed by this poor animal, in the dying moments of her expiring young. Though she was sorely wounded, and could but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh she had just fetched away, as she had done the others, tore it in pieces, and laid it down before them. When she saw they refused to eat, she laid her first upon paws the one, then upon the other, and endeavoured to raise them up, making at the same time the most pitiable moans. Finding she could not stir them, she went off, and when she had got to some distance, looked back and moaned; and that not availing to entice them away, she returned, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs not rising to follow, she returned to them anew, and with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round, pawing them successively. Finding, at last, that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship, and growled a curse upon the destroyers, which they returned with a volley of musquet balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds." Into the question of man's right to sail to the Polar regions to shoot bears and their cubs, I forbear to enter. It may be more gratifying to reflect, that even among the rude nations of the north, "animals were considered as being in some measure included in the compact of society. The industrious beaver hath his house like the husbandman; and if the beaver was killed and his cell overturned, a fine of three marks both for bloodwite and hamesoken, was paid to the owner of the land. But the grim inhabitants of the forest, the enemies of mankind, were declared by Haco Athelstane, to be out of the protection of the law: The bear and the wolf shall be outlaws in every place.' Yet notwithstanding this perpetual sentence of outlawry, the bear himself was entitled to a legal summons, before he could be punished for his misdeeds; for if he had robbed or injured his two-legged countrymen, it was necessary to summon a Tinwald court and pronounce him liable to punishment in due form. In the Saga of Finboga hinom Rama, the grizzly offender is challenged to a duel, and slain with all the courtesies of chivalry."-Edin. Rev. Aug. 1820. Edin. Cab. Lib. Scandinavia, vol. 1, p. 192, note. CHAPTER V. ON THE USE OF ANIMALS IN THE DESIGNS OF PROVIDENCE. "He spake, and the locusts came."-PSALM CV. 34. It is to be lamented that naturalists, and others who have turned their attention to the animal kingdom, do not associate with their inquiries more religious reflection, and consider that not only in nature but in the records of revelation, animals occupy a very conspicuous station. Their creation is distinctly described as preceding that of man; and throughout the sacred volume we find them introduced in a great variety of ways, illustrative of the Divine attributes, to demonstrate not only the bounty and providence, but the power, the justice, the wisdom, the omniscience of the Deity, to strengthen our faith, and inculcate lessons of morality. We find them employed as the instruments of good or evil, as blessings or curses, to feed a famishing people, or scourge the disobedience of a rebellious generation. When the deluge swept round the shoreless globe, Noah experienced the advantage of having such winged messengers as the raven and the dove, to go forth and return with intelligence of the decreasing waters; whence it is supposed the raven came afterwards to be considered as a bird of omen, while the dove with the olive branch is ever hailed as the harbinger of peace. The raven is repeatedly mentioned in holy writ, as by Job, the Psalmist, and the Saviour himself, to illustrate God's care of his creatures. From being the object of his care it becomes * Job xxxviii. 41. Psalm cxlvii. 9. Luke xii. 24. |
