that flew highest should be king. The wren hid itself on the eagle's back, and when the eagle had flown its highest, the wren flew up a little higher still. And "regulus" it remained, even in science, till quite lately, when some ridiculous fustilarian rechristened it "troglodytes." Imagine the wren being "troglodytes," the same, scientifically, as the gorilla! What a poverty it betrays in nomenclature, what a pitiful "superiority to imagination" to find that the wren and the gorilla are undistinguishable to the eye of a Professor. "Diabolus" would have been even better, for science has got no devil now, so the English wren could never have been mistaken for the great man-ape, and besides, in our folk-lore the wren is a very necromantic and wicked little person. The Evil One, it is said, once took possession of its body to serve his evil ends, and infamous enchanters have done the same. So it came to pass that people said it was a good deed and pious to kill wrens, and it is hunted to this day in many places: "The wren, the wren, the king of the birds, St. Stephen's day was caught i' the furze, Sing holly, sing ivy, sing ivy, sing holly, Sing heigh! sing ho! to scare melancholy." This is the wren, troglodytes, in its "demoniacal aspect," to use the language of Gubernatis. In its benign aspect, "the tiny woodland dwarf," "the wren with little quill," is a bird of some sanctity: "Malisons, malisons mair than ten Wha harries the queen of heaven's hen." for, as everybody knows: "The robin and the wren Are God Almighty's cock and hen." And it is in its connection with that other famous bird of December, the robin-redbreast, that the wren, "Jenny Wren," is, perhaps, most popular. Indeed, it is almost impossible to think of one without the [Illustration: "_Like snow-birds that are happy without sun_"] other, for they have been sweethearts ever since English was spoken: "'Ah! Robin, Joly Robin! Tell me how thy leman doeth, And thou shalt knowe of myn.' 'My lady is unkinde, perdé.' 'Alacke why is she so?' 'She loveth another better than me, And yet she will say no.'" What an enchanting entanglement it is, this of the robin and the wren, and yet we know that it was approved, for when Cock Robin died, all the birds in the air, in sympathy for the dead and for Jenny-- "Fell a sighin' and sobbin'." CHAPTER III THE ROOK--THE CUCKOO--LARK AND WOODLARK--THE SPARROW--PLAGUE OF BIRDS CHAPTER III "_The flocking Rooks, by instinct's native rule,_ _Each peaceful scene for their asylum choose._" SHENSTONE.