The handle N, with the open lever or shears to which it is attached, and which receives the whole cutting frame, is wrought by a parallel motion O, within the shears of the iron standard P; and it is attached by a bolt to the cross bar which joins the two upright posts of the moveable frame; at this bolt it admits. of an easy motion. The distance to which the cutting frame has a power of being lifted up and pushed down is 12 inches, that is, the length of the seven upright rods above a. The bottom of the hopper at the cutting instrument is covered with a plate of iron, and these rods pass down through grooves in it and the bottom of the trough. There is also a groove for the face of the cross cutting knife b, going a little way down, so that when the cutting apparatus is put down, the turnip slice may be clean cut off. As the cutting frame does not fill up the whole breadth fo the hopper at that part, there is a piece of plate iron as a conductor placed at each side, between the side of the trough and the cutting frame. There is also a spout projecting out at R for allowing the cut turnips to fall down. The sides of this follow the same pitch of taper as the sides of the hopper, and are in fact just a continuation of them.

In using this instrument, the person works the lever by the handle with his right hand, and presses forward the turnips with his left. In this process it is not necessary that the turnips be topped, indeed it is better that they should not, and then the person holds the turnip by the top during the operation of cutting. But where the top has been removed, the person holds the turnip forward to the instrument with a small fork or a sharp-pointed stick. And where the turnips are small and without tops, perhaps the best thing for putting them forward is a piece of wood about 6 inches square, with a handle in the centre, similar to that which is used by plasterers.

12

AMERICA.

AUDUBON'S Birds of America, and Ornithological Biography

THE

HE pre-eminent beauty, not of the real birds of America, although that country, and especially its southern regions, furnishes some of the most splendid that have yet gladdened the eye of the naturalist, but of the "Birds of America” so called, being delineations of the species peculiar to the United States, by Mr Audubon, a native of Louisiana, has naturally induced us to peruse the descriptions of these birds, lately presented to the public, under the name of "Ornithological Biography." With some faults and imperfections as a work illustrative of ornithology, the "Birds of America" is unquestionably the most splendid series of representations of natural objects, that has ever appeared in this, or any other country; but its great price, that of each of the four volumes, of which only one is yet published, amounting to forty guineas, precludes the possibility of its being extensively useful to the student, and reserves it almost exclusively for the wealthy. It is, in fact, a perfectly aristocratic, or rather exclusive work, and as such comes rather strangely from a member of a community, in which all are assumed to be on a level; but genius necessarily forms an aristocracy for itself, and it is expedient that, in the ornamental arts at least, it should seek alliance with, or minister to the gratification of, the rich.

The ornithological details of Mr Audubon's descriptive work are highly interesting, as being the result of observations continued for upwards of thirty years. His descriptions, in accuracy, clearness, and beautiful simplicity, approach nearer to those of Wilson, our countryman, the celebrated author of the "American Ornithology," than to those of any other writer on Natural History. In all essential respects, they corroborate Wilson's statements, and contain an additional mass of information as to the habits, mode of flight, and migration of the birds of the United States, with which that writer, not possessing equal opportunities of observation, was unacquainted. As a sample, we shall epitomize Mr Audubon's description of the Turkey.

The Wild Turkey, the origin of the domestic race now genePublished by Mr Adam Black, Edinburgh, 1831.

rally distributed over both Continents, is a native of America, and although highly prized as an article of food, and consequently much diminished in number, still occurs abundantly in the states of Ohio, Kentucky, Illinois, Indiana, Arkansas, Tennessee and Alabama. It feeds upon the wild fruits of the forest, acorns, mast, grapes and other varieties, of which there is a profusion in all the uncultivated parts. About the beginning of October, the turkeys assemble in flocks, and commence their rambles. The males, or gobblers, associate in parties of from ten to a hundred, and search for food apart from the females. The latter advance singly, each with its brood of young, already more than half grown, or in connexion with other parties, forming flocks often amounting to seventy or eighty individuals. Should they come upon a river, they betake themselves to the highest eminences, and there often remain a whole day, sometimes two, the males gobbling, calling and strutting about, as if to raise their courage to a sufficient pitch. The females and young assume the same pompous demeanour, spread out their tails, and run round each other, purring, and performing extravagant leaps. At length, the whole party mounts to the tops of the highest trees, whence, at a signal, consisting of a single cluck, given by some veteran, they take flight for the opposite shore. Some of the weaker often fall into the water, but generally manage to extricate themselves, if the opposite bank be not too steep.

About the middle of February, they begin to experience the impulse of propagation. When a female utters a call-note, all the males within hearing fly to the spot, and the moment they reach it, commence strutting and puffing. On these occasions desperate combats often take place. The gobbler is not altogether monagamous, but frequently pays his addresses to all the females he meets with, although in general he becomes finally attached for the season to one. When the love-season is over, the males separate from the hens, and cease to gobble. They are then extremely emaciated, and are unable to fly, although they run with great speed.

About the middle of April, the hen begins to form her nest, which consists of a few withered leaves, and is placed on the ground, by the side of a log, on the top of a fallen tree, under a

thicket, or a few feet within the edge of a cane-brake. The eggs are usually from ten to fifteen. They seldom abandon their nest, when it has been discovered by men, but never go near it again when a snake or other animal has sucked any of the eggs. Several hens sometimes associate together, deposite their eggs in the same nest, and rear their broods together. The mother will not leave her eggs, when near hatching, under any circumstances, while life remains. If the eggs have been destroyed or carried off, the female soon yelps again for a male; but in general, she rears only one brood in a season.

The moment the young burst the egg, they begin to run about. In about a fortnight, they are able to fly at night to a low branch, where they roost under the wings of the parent bird; and in August are able to secure themselves from unexpected attacks of wolves, foxes, lynxes, and even cougars, by flying to the highest branches of the tallest trees.

When after a heavy fall of snow, the weather becomes frosty, so as to form a hard crust on the surface, the turkeys remain on their roosts for three or four days. When near farms, however, they leave the roosts, and go into the very stables and about the stacks of corn, to procure food. During soft snowy weather, they often travel to an immense distance, and are then followed in vain, it being impossible for hunters of any description to keep up with them.

when the birds During spring,

Turkeys are procured in various ways. Good dogs scent them, when in large flocks, at great distances, and setting off at full speed, push into the middle of the flock, perch on the surrounding trees, and are shot. they may be called, by drawing the air in a particular way through one of the second joint bones of a wing, which produces a sound resembling the voice of the female, on hearing which the male comes up. But the most common method of procuring wild turkeys is by means of pens, a kind of large cage made of branches of trees, with a small aperture so constructed, that when the turkey enters, allured by a train of Indian corn, it is unable to find its way out again. In one of his pens, Mr Audubon caught seventy-six turkeys in the space of two

months.

About thirty years ago, turkeys were so abundant in Ken

tucky, that birds weighing ten or twelve pounds sold at threepence each, and a first-rate cock, weighing from twenty-five to thirty pounds, was considered well sold when it brought a quarter of a dollar. The weight of turkey hens generally averages about nine pounds; that of the males is from fifteen to eighteen ; but Mr Audubon saw one offered for sale in the Louisville Market, that weighed thirty-six pounds.

Such are some of the more remarkable circumstances connected with the history of the wild turkey. Of the other birds described by Mr Audubon, the more remarkable in an economical point of view, are the Passenger Pigeon, the Ruffed Grouse, the Little Partridge, and the Purple Grakle. The following is a description of a pigeon-roost.

"It was in a portion of the forest, where the trees were of great magnitude, and where there was little underwood; I rode through it upwards of forty miles, and, crossing it in different parts, found its average breadth to be rather more than three miles. My first view of it was about a fortnight subsequent to the period when the pigeons first made choice of it, and I arrived there nearly two hours before sun-set. Few pigeons were then to be seen, but a great number of persons, with horses and waggons, guns and ammunition, had already established encampments on the borders. Two farmers from the vicinity of Russelsville, distant more than a hundred miles, had driven upwards of three hundred hogs to be fattened on the pigeons which were to be slaughtered. Here and there, the people employed in plucking and salting what had already been procured, were seen sitting in the midst of large piles of these birds. The dung lay several inches deep, covering the whole extent of the roostingplace, like a bed of snow. Many trees two feet in diameter, I observed, were broken off at no great distance from the ground; and the branches of many of the largest and tallest had given way, as if the forest had been swept by a tornado. Every thing proved to me that the number of birds resorting to this part of the forest must be immense beyond conception. As the period of their arrival approached, their foes anxiously prepared to receive them. Some were furnished with iron pots containing sulphur, others with torches of pine-knots, many with poles, and the rest with guns. The sun was lost to our view, yet not a