This being so, it is evident that great possibilities are open to Mrs. Cuckoo in making a match. At the same time, it is not reasonable to credit her with conscious and deliberate action. Cuckoos' eggs have been found in the nests of about a hundred different species of birds, even in that of the little wren, and one wonders how a pair of tiny wrens can supply the voracious appetite of their big foster-child. The most commonly selected nests (in England) are those of the hedge-sparrow, robin, wagtail, reed-warbler, and tree-pipit. Colormatching is achieved with great frequency among the pipits, and it is noteworthy that the eggs of the pipits themselves are remarkably variable in coloring, so that more or less successful matching may possibly be merely an accident. On the continent of Europe, the butcher-bird, whose eggs are also very variable, is often honored with the cuckoo's attentions, and again the colormatching is, as a rule, excellent. Hedgesparrows' eggs are hardly ever imitated, and the cuckoo's egg is glaringly conspicuous among the pale-blue shells. Is it reasonable to suppose that birds whose eggs are, as a rule, accurately copied by the cuckoo are extremely particular and resent the addition of a strange egg to their own, while others are indifferent or perhaps stupid? We are in ignorance as to whether some birds turn out of their nests an egg differing in appearance from their own, while others do not. Moreover, nobody has yet ascertained whether the presence of the cuckoo's egg is the cause of nests being forsaken soon after completion and before any eggs have been laid. The sharp eyes of a hungry hawk would be very liable to detect a nest containing a few pale-blue eggs, as well as one with a very decided blue tint, and consequently the presence of the cuckoo's egg may sometimes be the direct cause of an attack upon a pair of small parent-birds. It is probable that some birds are more tolerant than others. Mischievous persons have often interchanged eggs of different species in numbers of nests, working endless confusion in the avian nurseries, to the complete satisfaction, however, of the nurses. Domesticated "broody" chickens will, of course, "sit" upon anything resembling an egg. On the other hand, an English blackbird, to whom a thrush's egg had been given, deserted her nest at once, but the more tolerant thrush, with whom a fair exchange had been made, "sat" on, quite unconcerned, and hatched the blackbird with her own young. Again, a cuckoo's egg was one morning found in the unfinished nest of a linnet, which had been under observation while building. The suspicious linnet suspended operations for fully three days, and was thought to have forsaken her nest. The cuckoo's egg was then removed. Next day the linnet returned, finished her nest, and in due course laid her eggs. The above-mentioned facts bring me to what I consider the important part of this article-the belief that there is at work some selective principle tending to bring the cuckoos' eggs in course of time into color correspondence with those of their dupes, at any rate in some species. It is significant that cuckoos' eggs found in the nests of wrens never simulate the appearance of the wren's egg; in the deep-domed nest, with its small, round entrance, all is dark, and the color of the egg of no importance, for the wren in all probability never sees even her own eggs, and as long as the cuckoo's egg is not exceptionally large, the wren remains. ignorant of the intrusion. Instinct is at times literally blind, even the maternal instinct that one fondly hopes will do all that is best for the child. It is not improbable that the love of birds for their eggs is often blind. There comes a time in the breeding season when the instinct to "sit" is overpowering, and some birds will sit upon anything, either their own egg, one made of earthenware, or that of a cuckoo. It is conceivable that an ill-matching egg might at the beginning of the egg-laying period of a fastidious foster-parent cause desertion or be rejected, while later on, when the "sitting" instinct is strong, an equally conspicuous egg might be tolerated. Successful simulations would then hatch out early, and have a better chance of dealing destruction to the unhatched eggs of the fosterers, or their weak, newly-hatched young; whereas, if the cuckoo's egg were hatched last of the batch, the young cuckoo might have too heavy a task, and fail to get his necessary monopoly of supplies. The size, especially the width, of the cuckoo's egg is an important consideration in its fate. A very wide egg would project above the rest of the eggs, and might cause discomfort to the sitting bird. It is remarkable that while the eggs of such birds as have been examined vary far less in breadth than in length, the egg of the cuckoo is more variable in breadth than that of any other species, probably in accordance with the diverse sizes of the eggs of the various foster-parents. Perhaps the most striking feature is the extraordinary smallness of the cuckoo's egg. Although the bird itself is more than double the length of a house-sparrow, its egg is hardly larger than that of the one bird that so richly deserves extermination. wren-cuckoos and hedge-sparrow-cuckoos into distinct sets, and in the case of the former the difference is notably such as to cause the egg, which is remarkably small even for a cuckoo's, to approximate more closely to the size of the wren's egg. Hence it is highly probable that there are certain races of cuckoos whose members being closely related lay eggs of somewhat similar dimensions, and confine their attentions each to its own particular variety of foster-parent. Individual birds, recognizable by some peculiarity of voice or plumage, are known to return with unerring accuracy to the same spot year after year, and it is not improbable that such of the young as survive the perils of migration will resort to the place where they were reared, and will inherit their mother's partiality for the nests of some one species of fosterer, and also more or less of her type and coloration of egg. The males, too, young and old, would be likely to return to their old haunts, and thus family groups of cuckoos would tend to segregate themselves. It has been suggested that there are races of cuckoos, one race having been evolved as the successful patron of one species of foster-parent, another of a different species. If this hypothesis is correct, we might expect that there would be some sign of kinship among the cuckoos' eggs found in wagtails' nests, and among those found in hedgesparrows', and so on. Using size as a test of blood-relation, it has been ascertained that differences do exist making But an ounce of fact is worth several pounds of theory. In the neighborhood of Leipzig (Germany) no less than seventy nests containing cuckoos' eggs were found in one season, and fifty-eight of these were red-backed shrikes'. (This is one of the "butcher-birds," notable for impaling insects and small birds upon thorns.) In any given locality, then, the majority of cuckoos may prefer some. one particular species for foster-parent, and so the chances may be in favor of male and female individuals of like rearing and pedigree mating together. The isolation of race from race is not perfect, as is evident from the faulty matching of many eggs. This may perhaps be accounted for by occasional matings between birds of unlike foster-parentage, and the inheritance by their offspring of a mixture of preferences which cancel one another, and result in impartiality; or at times by stress of circumstances in cases where the mother-cuckoo has difficulty in finding the nest of the species she prefers. Dr. Rey's observations show that out of more than four hundred cuckoos' eggs examined by him, about thirty per cent closely imitated the eggs of the fosterers; twenty-seven per cent resembled those of species freely patronized by cuckoos, but did not resemble those of the actual bird to whom they were entrusted; thirty-five per cent were of a "mixed" type, that is to say, more or less combined the color and markings of eggs of two foster species. Seven and a half per cent bore no relation in color to the eggs of any other birds. According to the above-named naturalist, and there is little doubt that he is correct, each cuckoo prefers, and year after year adheres to, the nests of some one particular species of fosterparent, and will do all she can to find such nests for each of her eggs. At length, however, the physiological moment arrives when the egg must be laid, and if the favorite nest has not been found in advance, the nearest approach to it is utilized. The period of egg-laying is unusually prolonged in the cuckoo, extending over several weeks, and it seems that as a rule one egg is laid on each alternate day, the number produced in the course of a season being still in doubt, perhaps twenty being the maximum. There is reason to hope that parental affection has not altogether died out in the cuckoo family, although a great part of it unquestionably has. A few instances are on record of the hen bird remaining in the locality of a nest in which she had placed an egg, and appearing to take some interest in its fate. In addition, a small number of nests containing cuckoos' eggs have sometimes cuckoos' feathers woven into the outsides and bottom of them. It has been suggested that the cuckoo helps to build the nest with its own feathers, but this is by no means certain. The majority of the cuckoos' eggs hatch in the month of June, and then is enacted the final scene of horror. The young cuckoo, as hideous as anything in the form of a bird can be, just emerged from the shell, with eyes as yet unopened, sets himself in most deliberate and uncanny fashion to oust the rightful occupants of the nest. The history of all parasites forms a perplexing chapter in the economy of the universe, but this surpasses almost everything that is known in its base ingratitude and heartless cruelty. Provided with a special depression in the back, this extraordinary bird works with head and wings to get his foster-brothers and sisters into the spot which seems to have been constructed by Nature for the cuckoo's purposes. The legs, stalwart out of all proportion in so young an animal, are straddled out, the claws grip with firm determination the soft lining of the sides of the nest, the beak is thrust against the floor, the wings are outstretched to prevent the victim rolling sideways back into the nest. little alien then heaves with all its puny might, and, one by one, the helpless fledglings or the unhatched eggs are hoisted over the edge of their home to die of cold and starvation. To the onlooker the whole proceeding is positively repulsive, so deliberately does the blind little cuckoo set about its cruel task, so admirably adapted is it for the performance of its purpose. Two cuckoos are occasionally hatched in the same nest, and in the tug-of-war that then ensues one of the two necessarily meets his superior. The In conclusion let me give the cuckoo its due. It is to a certain extent a useful bird because it eats with relish large caterpillars bristling with hairs that baffle the more tender palates of other insectivorous birds. One Time the Home of Father Tom Burke, O. P. T An Historical Sketch, by ROSALEEN O'NEILL HERE are few spots, if any, in Ireland so full of hallowed memories, so chequered in their history as the quaint old village of Tallaght, which lies about seven miles south of the General Post Office, Dublin, on the line of the steam-tram that runs to Blessington and Poulaphonca. Of the thousands of pleasure-seekers and others who pass through it from end to end of the year, how few there are who have ever heard of its ancient glory. The most that many know of it is that there was an encounter there on the memorable night of Shrove Tuesday, 1867, between the Fenians and the police; and yet it may be said with truth that Tallaght has a history second to no place in the land. It is not my intention to give anything like a full account of this historic spot. That work has been already done by competent writers. I intend only to sketch such of the principal events in the history of the place as may interest those who love to think of the glories of the past, blended though they were with sorrows, and to see in the present promises of a bright and unclouded future. The first mention made in history of Taimhleacht, or Tallaght, is in the account given in the "Annals of the Four Masters" of the plague that destroyed the Colony of Parthalon. It is as follows: "Nine thousand of Parthalon's people died in one week on SeanMhagh-Ealta-Edair, viz, 5,000 men and 4,000 women; whence is named Taimh TALLAGHT, WHERE REPOSES THE BODY OF FATHER TOM BURKE, O. P. leacht-Mhuintire-Parthalon, now called Tallaght, near Dublin." The word "Tamh" means an epidemic, or plague; and "Taimhleacht," the "plague monument." The date of the plague was the year of the world 2820. The great number of tombs-or, as they are called, "Kistvaens," made with four rude stones and sometimes containing cinerary urns that have been found in the neighborhood, give some confirmation to this tradition. From that period till about the middle of the eighth century, nothing is known about the place. At that time, as we read, there was a monastery in Tallaght, which was rebuilt or enlarged by St. Maelruain, or Maelruan, who was called the "Bright Sun of Ireland," and through whose influence peace and piety reigned throughout the land. He welcomed to his monastery another holy man, St. Aengus, the Culdee, who fled from his cell in County Limerick that he might serve God in the obscurity denied. him at home. He managed to conceal his rank and identity for some time, and lived the life of a humble servant till St. Maelruain discovered who he was. He wrote a metrical poem in Irish, known as the "Festilogium of St. Aengus." He was also author of a history of the Old Testament, in elegant metre; and, in conjunction with St. Maelruain, he composed what is known as the Martyrology of Tallaght, a very ancient manuscript copy of which is preserved in the Burgundian library of Brussels. It has been translated by the late Eugene O'Curry. St. Aengus died somewhere in the County Limerick, whither he returned when he found his end approaching, on Friday, the 11th of March, 824. St. Maelruain had predeceased him on the 7th of July, 792. A "pattern," to which people flocked from all parts, even from the city, was held on that day in the village uninterruptedly for about 1,082 years. In 1873 or 1874, it was discontinued through the influence of a Dominican Friar on account of the excesses that usually accompanied it. One is inclined to regret the giving up entirely of such an ancient custom. What a pity that it was not found possible to retain it, purified from its usual abuses! Amongst the holy men of whom mention is made about the time of St. Maelruain is St. Joseph, Bishop of Tallaght, who died in 795. Not many years after his death the descendants of Niall, King of Ireland, in the year 805 (as we read in Handcock's "History and Antiquities of Tallaght," to which interesting work I am very much indebted for the materials of this sketch), "having violated the termon, or churchlands, of Tallaght, the monks took the bold step of seizing and retaining the chariothorses of Aedh, the son of Niall, on the eve of the games which were annually celebrated at Taillteun (now Teltown), in the County of Meath. His chariots, therefore, could not run. Aedh-Oirdnidhe for his violation afterwards made a full atonement." Five years after, in 811, the monastery was raided by the Danes. For a little more than two centuries after that date the Sea-Kings of the North held sway on our eastern seaboard, and Tallaght, which was ruled by a succession of Abbots, suffered like many another seat of piety and learning. May we not picture to our minds generation after generation of holy monks, who during that time prayed for the breaking of the dawn of liberty, and the joy that filled the hearts of the men who were there on Good Friday of 1014, when word was brought them that Brian had routed the Northmen at Clontarf? Perchance they knew of the progress of the fight, and, like Moses, had lifted up their hands and hearts in supplication to the God of battles for the success of the Christian arms. When peace once more reigned in the land Tallaght, like other religious houses, benefited by the blessed change. More than a century later, in 1179, soon after the English Invasion, Pope Alexander III granted Tallaght, amongst other places, to the See of Dublin. This grant was ratified by Innocent III in 1216. It must have been some time in the thirteenth century that the Canons Regular of St. Augustine took up their residence in the place, and that a very large castle, one of the towers of which it still |