“There, on the old ash-tree, you may see a pair, one perched on the topmost twig, the other hopping on the branches below, keeping up an incessant chatter. How gracefully she, on the topmost twig, swings in the breeze! Off she starts, and directs her flight to the fir-woods opposite, chattering all the way, seemingly to call her mate after her. But he prefers remaining behind. He is in a brown study, or something of that kind, as we can plainly see. Now, having spied something below, he hops downwards from twig to branch, and descends to the ground. His ash-tree, you must understand, grows close to, and in part overshadows, a farmyard; so now he is on ground which, as is customary in such places, is not over clean; therefore, lifting up his tail to prevent it being soiled or wet, as the farmer’s wife might hold up her Sunday gown, and raising his body as high as possible, he walks a few paces, and, spying an earth-worm half out of his hole, drags it forth by a sudden jerk, breaks it in pieces, and swallows it. Now, under the hedge, he has found a snail, which he will presently pick out of its shell, as an old woman would a periwinkle. But now something among the bushes has startled him, and he springs lightly upwards, chattering the while, to regain his favourite tree. It is a cat, which, not less frightened than himself, for both are intent on mischief, runs off towards the barn. The magpie again descends, steps slowly over the grassy margin of the yard, looking from side to side, stops, listens, advances rapidly by a succession of leaps, and encounters a whole brood of chickens, with their mother at their heels. If she had not been there he would have had a delicious feast of one of those chickens; but he dare not think of such a thing now, for, with fury in her eye, bristled plumage, and loud clamour, the hen rushes forward at him, overturning two of her younglings, and the enemy, suddenly wheeling round to avoid the encounter, flies off to his mate. “There again you perceive them in the meadow, as they walk about with their elevated tails, looking for something eatable. By the hedge, afar off, are two boys, with a gun, endeavouring to creep up to a flock of plovers on the other side. But the magpies see them, for there are not many things which escape their sharp eyes, and presently rising, they fly directly over the field, chattering vehemently, and the flock of plovers on this take wing, and the disappointed young sportsmen sheer off in another direction.”