The Magpie feeds on everything; worms, insects, meat, cheese, bread, milk, and all kinds of seeds, and also on small birds, when they come in its way: the young of the blackbird and of the thrush, and even a strayed chicken, often fall a prey to its rapacity. It is fond of hiding pieces of money or wearing apparel, which it carries away by stealth, and with much dexterity, to its hole. Its cunning is also remarked in the manner of making its nest, which it covers all over with hawthorn branches, the thorns sticking outward; within, it is lined with fibrous roots, wool, and long grass, and then plastered all round with mud and clay. The canopy above is composed of the sharpest thorns, woven together in such a manner as to deny all entrance except at the door, which is just large enough to permit egress and regress to the owners. In this fortress the birds bring up their brood with security, safe from all attacks, but those of the climbing schoolboy, who often finds his torn and bloody hands too dear a price for the eggs or the young ones. There are many superstitions respecting Magpies; and it is singular that in all the southern and middle districts of England, two Magpies together are thought to betoken luck; while in Lancashire, and other northern counties, they are thought to betoken misfortune. The chattering of Magpies was formerly supposed to foretell the arrival of strangers. [Illustration: THE CORNISH CHOUGH, (_Pyrrhcorax graculus_,)] IS like the jackdaw in shape and colour, but somewhat larger. The bill and legs are of a red colour, and hence the bird is frequently called the red-legged Crow. It is an inhabitant of Cornwall, Wales, and all the western coasts of England, and is generally to be found among rocks near the sea, where it builds, as well as in old ruinous castles and churches on the sea-side. The voice of the Chough resembles that of the jackdaw, except that it exceeds it in hoarseness and strength. Mr. Montagu describing a Chough in the possession of a friend, says, “his curiosity is beyond bounds, never failing to examine everything new to him: if the gardener be pruning, he examines the nail-box, carries off the nails, and scatters the shreds about. Should a ladder be left against the wall, he instantly mounts, and goes all round the top of the wall: and if hungry descends at a convenient place, and immediately travels to the kitchen window, where he makes an incessant knocking with his bill, until he is fed or let in. If allowed to enter, his first endeavour is to get up-stairs; and if not interrupted, goes as high as he can, and gets into any room on the attic story; but his intention is to get upon the top of the house. He is excessively fond of being caressed, and would stand quietly by the hour to be smoothed; but resents an affront with violence and effect, by both bill and claws, and will hold so fast by the latter, that he is with difficulty disengaged.”