CABINET LIBRARY.

Under the above title will be published by CAREY 8c
LEA, a Series of Valuable Works, the first of which
being the Narrative of the War in Germany and
France, is now submitted to the public. ~The succeed-
ing volumes will appear monthly.

No. I.

THE MARQUESS OF LONDONDERRY'S

NARRATIVE

OF THE

LATE WAR

IN

GERMANY AND FRANCE:

Being the First Volume

OF THE

CABINET LIBRARY.

“ No history of the events to which it relates can be correct
without reference to its statements.” — Literary Gazette .

“The events detailed in this volume cannot fail to excite an
intense interest.” — Dublin Literary Gazette .

“ The only connected and well authenticated account we have
of the spirit stirring scenes which preceded the fell of Napoleon.
It introduces us into the cabinets and presence of the allied mo-
narchs. We observe the secret policy ef each individual: we see
the course pursued by the wily Bernadotte, the temporising Met-
ternich, and the ambitious Alexander. The work deserves a place
in every historical library.” — Globe .

Cabinet Library, No. II.

JOURNAL OF A NATURALIST#

-—■Plants, trees, and stones we note ;

Birds, insects, beasts, and rural things.

“We again most strongly recommend this little unpretending
volume to the attention of every lover of nature, and more par-
ticularly of our country readers. It will induce them, we are
sure, to examine more closely than they have been accustomed
to do, into the objects of animated nature, and such examination
will prove one of the most innocent, and the most satisfactory

[sources of gratification and amusement. It is a book that ought
to find its way into every rural drawing room in the kingdom,
and one that may safely be placed in every lady’s boudoir, be her
rank and station in life what they may.” — Quarterly Review ,
No. LXXVIII.

44 We think that there are few readers who will not be de-
lighted (we are certain all will be instructed) by the 4 Journal of
a Naturalist.’ ” — Monthly Review.

44 This is a most delightful book on the most delightful of all
studies. We are acquainted with no previous work which bears
any resemblance to this, except 4 White’s History of Selhorne,’
the most fascinating piece of rural writing and sound English
philosophy that ever issued from the press.” — Athenaeum.

44 The author of the charming volume now before us, has pro-
duced one of the most charming volumes we remember to have
seen for a long time.”— -New Monthly Magazine , June, 1829.

44A delightful volume — perhaps the most so — nor less instruc-
tive and amusing— -given to Natural History since White’s Sel-
horne.”— ■ Blackwood's Magazine.

To be succeeded by

Military Memoirs of the Duke of Wellington. By Cap-
tain Moyle Sherer. Nearly ready.

Historical Memoirs of the House of Bourbon.

History of France, from the restoration of the Bourbons to
the year 1830. Life of Petrarch. By Thomas Moore.

The Book of the Seasons. By William Howitt.

44 Since the publication of the Journal of a Naturalist, no work
at once so interesting and instructive as the Book of the Seasons
has been submitted to the public. Whether in reference to the
tutility of its design, or the grace and beauty of its execution, it
will amply merit the popularity it is certain to obtain. It is, in-
deed, cheering and refreshing to meet with such a delightful vo-
lume, so full of nature and truth — in which reflection and expe-
rience derive aid from imagination— -in which we are taught
much ; but in such a manner as to make it doubtful whether we
jhave not been amusing ourselves all the time we have been read-
ling.” — New Monthly Magazine.

i 44 The Book of the Seasons is a delightful book, and recom-
1 mended to all lovers of nature.” — Blackwood/ s Magazine .

®r. ffiartwer’s crattnet ®gclopaeii(a

Considerable progress having been made in this work, the publishers wish to
direct the attention of the public to the advantages by which it is distinguished
from other similar monthly publications.

It is not intended that the Cabinet Cyclopaedia shall form an interminable se-
ries, in which any work of interest which may present itself from time to time
can claim a place. Its subjects are classified according to the usual divisions of
literature, science, and art. Each division is distinctly traced out, and will con-
sist of a determinate number of volumes. Although the precise extent of the
work cannot be fixed with certainty, yet there is a limit which will not be ex-
ceeded ; and the subscribers may look forward to the possession, within a reason-
able time, of a complete library of instruction, amusement, and general reference,
in the regular form of a popular Cyclopsedia.

The several classes of the work are— 1, Natural Philosophy; 2, The Useful and
Fine Arts ; 3, Natural History ; 4, Geography; 5, Politics and Morals ; 6, General
Literature and Criticism ; 7, History; 8, Biography.

In the above abstruse and technical departments of knowledge, an attempt has
been made to convey to the reader a general acquaintance with these subjects, fey
the use of plain and familiar language, appropriate and well-executed engravings,
and copious examples and illustrations, taken from objects and events with which
every one is acquainted.

The proprietors formerly pledged themselves that no exertion should be spared
to obtain the support of the most distinguished talent of the age. They trust that
they have redeemed that pledge. Among the volumes already published in the
literary department, no less than four have been the production of men who stand
in the first rank of literary talent,— Sir James Mackintosh and Sir Walter Scott.
In the scientific department, a work has been produced from the pen of Mr. Her-
schel, which has been pronounced by the highest living authority on subjects of
general philosophy, to contain “ the noblest observations on the value of know-
ledge which have been made since Bacon,” and to be 66 the finest work of phi-
losophical genius which this age has seen.”

The following is a selection from the list of Contributors.

Authors of volumes actually published are marked (*). Those whose produc-
tions are in immediate preparation are marked (+)

CONTRIBUTORS.

*+The Right Honourable Sir JAMES MACKINTOSH, M.P.
fThe Right Rev. The Lord Bishop of Cloyne. j

*+Sir WALTER SCOTT, Bart. j

+JOHN FREDERICK WILLIAM HERSCHEL, Esq. j

■f THOMAS MOORE, Esq.
tJ- B. BIOT, Member of the French Institute.

+ROBERT SOUTHEY, Esq. Poet Laureate.

+The Baron CHARLES DUPIN, Member of the Royal Institute and Chamber
of Deputies. j

THOMAS CAMPBELL, Esq. I'D AVID BREWSTER, LL.D.

tJ. C. L. SISMONDI, of Geneva. +T. B. MACAULEY, Esq. M.P.

Capt. HENRY KATER, Vice President of the Royal Society.

The ASTRONOMER ROYAL. S. T. COLERIDGE, Esq.
fThe Right Hon. T. P. COURTENAY, M.P.

DAVIES GILBERT, Esq., M.P. f JAMES MONTGOMERY, Esq.

J. J. BERZELIUS, of Stockholm, F.R.S., &c.
fThe Rev. G. R. GLEIG.

J +T. PHILLIPS, Esq. Prof, of Painting, R.A.

1 fRey. C. THIRLWALL, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.

1 t ANDREW URE, M.D. F.R.S., & c. &e. &c. &c. ]

33r. ffiartwn’s cabinet cgtioirat&fa,

VOLUMES PUBLISHED*

I. II.— HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. By Sir Walter Scott.

III. — HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By Sir James Mackintosh. Vol. I.

IV. — OUTLINES OF HISTORY.

V. — HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS. By T. C. Grattan, Esq.

HISTORY OF ENGLAND. Vol. III.

HISTORY OF FRANCE. By Eyre Evans Crowe, in 3 Vols.

HISTORY OF POLAND, in 1 Vol.

HISTORY OF MARITIME DISCOVERY, in 3 Vols. (Complete.)
MECHANICS, in I Vol. By Capt. Kater, and Dr. Lardner. (Complete.)

LIVES OF EMINENT BRITISH LAWYERS, in 1 Vol. By H. Roscoe, Esq.
THE HISTORY OF THE WESTERN WORLD, in 4 Vols. Vol. I. THE
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

Two volumes of this work, nearly ready, will complete the History of the United
States to the present time. The two remaining volumes will be devoted to South
America and the West India Islands.

A PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE ON THE OBJECTS, ADVANTAGES,
AND PLEASURES OF THE STUDY OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY,
in 1 Vol. By J. F. W. Herschel, Esq. (Completed.)

N. B. — This work forms the Introduction or Preface to the Cabinet of Natural
Philosophy in the Cyclopaedia.

HYDROSTATICS, 8cc. 1 Vol. By Dr. Lardner.

A TREATISE ON OPTICS. By Dr. Brewster.

A HISTORY OF IRELAND, TO THE UNION, in 2 Vols. By T. Moore, Esq.
A PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE ON THE USEFUL ARTS AND MA-

NUFACTURES. By the Baron Charles Dupin, Member of the Institute of
France and of the Chamber of Deputies.

A HISTORY OF THE MOORS, in 3 Vols. By Robert Southey, Esq.

LIVES OF THE MOST EMINENT LITERARY MEN OF ALL NA-
TIONS, in 8 Vols. By Scott, Southey, Moore, Mackintosh, Montgomery, Cun-
ningham, and all the principal Literary and Scientific Contributors to the

Cyclopaedia.

A TREATISE ON ASTRONOMY. By J. F. W. Herschel, Esq.
GEOGRAPHY, in 4 Vols. By W. Cooley, Esq., author of the “ History of Man-
time Discovery."’

LIVES OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED BRITISH NAVAL COM-
MANDERS. By R. Southey, Esq.

LIVES OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED BRITISH MILITARY COM-

MANDERS. By the Rev. G. II. Gleig.

HISTORY OF THE ITALIAN REPUBLICS. By J. C. L. Sismondi.

THE HISTORY OF GREECE, in 3 Vols. By the Rev. C. Thirlwall.

LIVES OF EMINENT BRITISH ARTISTS. By W. Y. Otley, Esq., and T.

PHILLIPS, R.A. Professor of Painting to the Royal Academy.

A TREATISE ON ELECTRICITY AND MAGNETISM. By M. Biot,
Member of the French Institute. \

VOLUMES IN IMMEDIATE PREPARATION.

THE

JOURNAL

OF A

NATURALIST.

“ Plants, trees, and stones, we note,

Birds, insects, beasts, and many rural things.”

3PfjUa&eI})f)ia *

CAREY & LEA— CHESTNUT STREET.

1831.

*

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

ni

m*

$£ j PLATE 1.

y\V~-0

Fig. L Sphaeria on the leaf of an elm, p, 89.

A. A portion enlarged, and tlie cuticle parting,

B. The same enlarged, representing the capsules
Fig. 2. Sphseria bifrons, on a laurel leaf, p. 88, 89,

C. The front, and dorsal parts.

D. Imbedded capsules.

Fig. 3, Sphseria coryli, on a nut branch, p. 90.

E. The tubercle enlarged, bordered with the epidermis,

F. A section of the capsules at the base.

Fig. 4, Sphseria faginea, on a beech stick, p. 90.

G. Section of a tube, with the capsules at the base.

PI. Group of the tubes detached from the bough, with
their capsules.

I. A tube detached,

PLATE 2.

Fig. 1. A chrysalis of an insect, p. 191, 192.

B. The inner hood.

Fig. 2. The branch of an apple-tree, infested with the aphis lanata.

p, 235, 236.

B. The aphis enlarged, with the globules, and the cotton
that surrounds them.

D. The early appearance of the insect with its termi-

nating bristle.

E. Appearance of the creature in winter.

WOOD ENGRAVINGS.

Spines and tubes of the hedge-hog, enlarged, p. 99.
Harvest mouse and nest, p. 100.

Plumage of lepidopterous insects, p. 1 94.

Agaricus surrectus, p. 256.

Roots of an ash, p, 258.

PREFACE.

Many years have now passed away since we were
presented with that very interesting and amusing book,
the 44 Natural History of Selborne : ” nor do I recollect any
publication at all resembling it having since appeared.
It early impressed on my mind an ardent love for all the
ways and economy of nature, and I was thereby led to
the constant observance of the rural objects around
me. Accordingly, reflections have arisen, and notes
been made, such as the reader will find them. The two
works do not, I apprehend, interfere with each other.
The meditations of separate naturalists in fields, in
wilds, in woods, may yield a similarity of ideas ; yet
the different aspects under which the same things are
viewed, and characters considered, afford infinite variety
of description and narrative : mine, I confess, are but
brief and slight sketches ; plain observations of nature,
the produce often of intervals of leisure and shattered
health, affording no history of the country ; a mere
outline of rural things; the journal of a traveller
through the inexhaustible regions of nature.

CONTENTS,

Residence of the Author— Extensive prospect on the banks of the Severn
—Welsh mountains, and passages of the river— Roman encampment
upon a British site— Remains of the Romans— Coins— Skeletons of men
and horses— Traces of a forest— Soils of the parish— Limestone, its abun-
dance and uses— origin— Rocks formed in the parish by the coral polypi
—analysis of— Rocks of deposit— analysis of— Lead ore— Carbonate of
strontian— Traveller’s foot burned off— Residences upon Limestone sup-
posed healthy— Employment for laborers— Amount of stone disposed of—
A worthy peasant— Analysis of soils considered as fallacious— Dairy
processes— Grass lands, their nature— Wild plants— predominating plants
in corn-fields— Soils will produce particular herbage— Mode of saving hay
—Wheat— Culture of the potato— sorts— expense and profit— effect upon
the soil— not considered as injurious— sketch of its history— its introduc-
tion-some soils not favorable for the root— introduced later than tobacco
— value to mankind — Ignorance of the first habitants of the Cerealia —
Tendency of plants to revert to their original creation— Original species
of the potato cannot now be ascertained — Component parts of some
varieties — Teasel crops — its introduction — culture — gathering — value —
its cultivation not injurious to the soil — variety of names— application-
consumption— Bad custom in farming — “clatters” Page 9 to 41

Study of natural history no subject of ridicule— to be made an object in
youth — A beautiful Oak-tree— magnitude of several trees — uncertain in
producing acorns — a history of the oak might be written — all its products
valuable— Wych elm— its character— uses— magnitude— name— suffers in
early frosts— not beautiful in autumn — The buff tip moth— Trees con-
dense moisture — Air under trees— verdure — Utility and agency of foliage
— Prevalence of plants in soils— Fetid hellebore — uses — Village doctress
— Blossoms of plants— use not manifest — Carpenter bee — What flowers
most abundant— design of flowers — application of flowers — love of flowers
— emblems — amusements of children — universal ornament — cultivation of
flowers— bouquet— Poplar tree— formation of foot stalks— its suckers

41-58

Dyers’ broom — gathering— dishonest practice— uses for the dyer— Confor-
mation of flax and silk — Nature of color — Snapdragon— an insect trap—
Dogsbane — very destructive — the object mysterious — Glaucous birthwort
—Snapdragon vegetates in great drought — Evaporation from the earth
— Ivy — its shelter and food for birds and insects— love of ivy — ornament
to ruins— its effect— Foxglove— grows only in particular soils— medicinal
uses — uncertain application — name — ancient names— Vindication of old
epithets — Ancient and modern remedies— Snowdrop— a native plant-
remains long in abandoned places— character of the snowdrop— Yellow
oat-grass— affected by drought— Vervain— ancient estimation, and appli-

A 2

VI

CONTENTS.

cation— Druids of Gaul — Ancient and modern virtues— Dyers’ weed-
value — uses— cultivation — yellow color — most permanent and common
— Brimstone butterfly— Day’s eye— Dandelion— Singular appearance of a
grass — Brambles — insect path on the leaves — uses of the bramble — Maple
tree— an early autumn beau — fashion followed by others— maple wood a
beautiful microscopic object— medicinal properties— leaves punctured by
insects — Traveller’s joy — grows in limestone soils by preference — uses—
pores of the wood in the microscope— Vessels of plants— uninjured by dry
seasons— Seeds of the Clematis Page 58—83

Naturalist’s autumnal walk — beautiful, and fdjl of variety — Agaric-
beauty and variety — plentiful in Monmouthshire — Agaricus fimi putris —
Verdigris agaric— Fungi very uncertain in their growth — Flower-formed
hydnum— Mitred helvella — Gray puff* ball — Fingered clavaria — Agarics,
to be understood, observed in all stages of growth— Perishable nature of
created things — Parasitic fungi— laurel— holly — two-fronted sphseria— elm
leaves— sycamore leaves— bark of plants— the nut— beech— Odorous agaric
— Fragment agaric— ‘ Stainer ’ agaric— Stinking phallus— Mode of propa-
gation—'Turreted puff— Starry puff— Morell— Bell-shaped nidularia— Food
for mice 83—05

Marten cat— his capture— well adapted for a predatory life— its skin— Hedge-
hog—mode of life— always destroyed — prejudices against— cruelty of man
— an article of food — sensibility of the spines — Harvest mouse — where
found— character— Increase and decrease of animals— Migration of rats
— Water shrew — its residence and habits— common shrew mouse — Pale
blue shrew — Mole— his actions — character — abundance of— easily discovers
his food— structure of his body— fur and hair of animals— flesh of the
moles— killed by weasels 95—108

Birds — admiration of— The hedge sparrow — contingencies of its life— song
— example of a domestic character — Willow-wren— early appearance —
and departure— nest— object of her migration— Difficulty of rearing young
birds — Golden -crested wren — Linnet — their song — habits — Bullfinch —
character— injurious to trees— preference of food— no destroyer of insects
— Robin— character— always found — Song of birds — motives obscure —
Chaffinch — beautifully feathered— female, her habits— country epithets—
conduct in spring— mojsiten their eggs in hot weather— Parish rewards for
vermin — Blue tonj- tit— perishes in winter — mode of obtaining food —
stratagems — Birds distinguished by voice — Cole mouse — variety-of notes
—Long-tailed tom-tit— nests— journeys— eggs— labor to feed their young
—winter faod— great variety of nests— Goldfinch— beautiful nests— Suffer-
ings of the swallow — Maternal care of a little blue tom-tit — industry
—Raven — scared from its nest — faculty of discovering its food — univer-
sally found — duration of life — reverence— superstitions wearing out —
duration of animal life— aided or injured by man — an old horse— life of
man — Crossbill — breeds in England— Rook — suffers in cold and dry seasons
— his life in the year 1825 — various habits of— detects grubs in the earth —
his habits in the spring — associations— senses — Magpie — nests — habits—
plunderers of the farm -yard— natural affection— Jay— conduct of the old
birds— winter habits— feathers— shrike— nest— young— kills other birds—
a sentinel — its mischievous disposition— Stormy petrel— habits— Wry-
neck—its habits — Birds annually diminishing — Swan-pool, Lincoln —

CONTENTS.

vii

Nightingale — migrating birds — Rooks love long avenues — Starlings —
great flights— social habits— -breeding— a stray bird— actions before roost-
ing—congregate— very attentive to tlieir young— journeyings— Laborious
life of birds— Red start— Starling, brown— habits— a very dusky bird—
Hawks capture by intimidation— single out individuals— Early seasons—
bring rain— Blooming of the white thorn— Migrating birds— their conduct
—Butcher bird— Gray fly-catcher— Thrush— instance of affection— motives
of action— utility in a garden— Sparrows— domestic habits— manners —
increase— destruction— great consumers of insects— accommodating appe-
tite Page 108— JoO

Creatures associating with man— Common mouse— Rat— House-fly— Utility
of animals— Conduct of man— The dog— Wheatear— Country amusements
often cruel— Supplication for pity— Eggs— their markings— Foolish super-
stition—Kite— his habits— great capture of— Blackcap— habits— song-
nest— food— shyness— habits of our occasional visiting birds— Petty chaps
—White throats— Willow wren— Fear of man in animals— Stratagem of
a wren — Instinct — Awakening of birds — Early morning — Morning in
autumn— Goldfinch— captured— die in the winter— soon reconciled to
captivity — Tree-creeper — winters in England— not an increasing bird —
Yellow wagtail — Rapacious birds — Passerine birds — Buntings— unthatch-
ing corn ricks— Old tokens and signs— White lily — Pimpernel — Mistle-
thrush— his note— breeds near the dwellings of man — Change of char-
acter in birds— Love of offspring— Divine appointments— Jack snipe-
solitary habits — Christmas shooter — Association of birds— Peewit — habits
— eggs — Prognostications — Hedge-fruit — Fieldfares— Redwings— feeding
in the lowlands— uplands — Egg of the fieldfare — Rural sounds— notes of
birds — Plumage of birds — Song of birds — Woodlark— habits — voice —
capture — Language of man — of birds — Note significant of danger —
Singing a spontaneous effusion — Variety of note in same species — ‘Lady-
bird’ note of a song-thrusli — Croaking of the nightingale — Admiration
of birds— Cleanly and innocent creatures 350—189

Knowledge slowly obtained — Entomology a difficult study— Wonders around
us — The objects of many insects unknown— Chrysalis of a moth— Four-
spotted dragon-fly — Ghost moth— soon destroyed — Specimens of plumage
of butterflies — Argus butterfly — a pugnacious insect — combats — Azure
butterfly— seldom seen — Hummingbird sphinx — habits— wildness — tamed
by familiarity — feigns death — Painted lady butterfly — uncertain in ap-
pearing— Marble butterfly — Wasp — Meadow-brown butterfly — Yellow
winged moth — Admirable butterfly— Gamma-moth — Goat-moth — their
numbers— odor— power of destruction— Larvae of phalaena cossus, where
plentifully found — Designs of nature — Evening ramble — Insects abound-
ing— ignorance of their objects— Glow-worms— curious contrivance about
their eyes— light— migration— Snake eggs— destruction— harmless in Eng-
land—antipathy of mankind to the race— Paucity of noxious creatures
inhabiting with us— Small bombyx— Vigilance — animation— quarrels —
Black ant— combats of strength — Red ants— mortality — Yellow ants—
winter nests— millipedes— support great degree of cold— Stagnated water
— abounding with insects — Newt— his voracity — Water flea — an amusing
insect— observed by boys — Dorr-beetle— tlieir numbers— feign death to
avoid injury — Cleanliness of creatures in health— Recurrence to causes —
Cockchaffers— Changes in nature— Death’s-head moth— chrysalides— super-

Vlll

CONTENTS,

stitions regarding the insect— voice— Great water-beetle— its habits and
voracity— Hair worm— its object— Nests of a solitary wasp— Hornets—
their abundance at times, and voracity— kill each other— Garden snail—
its injuries— generally secure from destruction— faculties— small banded
snails— their numbers— superstitions concerning them— Earth-worms—
numbers of— the prey of all creatures — utility of— drain watery soils —
Inattention to the works of Providence Page 189 — 235

Empiricism — Apple-tree blight — progress — injury — White moss rose — Tes-
tacellus halotideus — Cure of the American blight — Effect of season on
the vegetation— Destruction of grass roots— Honey-dew— Injury to foliage
by small moths— Salt winds— Leasing— its profits— an innocent occupa-
tion-ordained by the Almighty— Old customs— wearing out— May-poles
— Christmassing — Kitchen bushes — young holly-trees— Singular conceit —
Influence of electric atmosphere on vegetation— Anecdote of the finding
of a guinea — Hummings in the air — Fairy rings — Spring changes —
Periodical winds— Whirly pits— Sinkings in the earth— Lichen fascicu-
laris — Salt winds destructive of vegetation — Spottings on apples —
spottings on strawberry leaves— curious agaric— Curious analogy between
plants and animated beings 235 — 259

The year 1825— its peculiarities and influences— A speedy method of killing
insects— Preserving of insects— Pollarding of trees— most injurious-
insects that destroy the ash — The willow rarely seen as a tree — a fine
one near Gloucester — Foggy morning — Reeking of the earth — the cause
—and utility— Winter of the year— Ice in pools— Law of nature— Winter
called a dull season— Nature actively employed— Exhausting powers ob-
served in the air— A minute vegetable product 259 to the end.

JOURNAL

OF

A NATURALIST.

The village in which I reside is situ.ated upon a very
ancient road, connecting the city of Bristol with that
of Gloucester, and thus with all the great towns in the
North of England. This road runs for the chief part
upon a high limestone ridge, from which wTe obtain a
very beautiful and extensive prospect : the broad estuary
of the river Severn, the mountains of Glamorgan, Mon-
mouth, and Brecon, with their peaceful vales, and
cheerful-looking white cottages, form the distant view :
beneath it lies a vast extent of arable and pasture land,
gained originally by the power of man from this great
river, and preserved now from her incursions by a con-
siderable annual expenditure, testifying his industry
and perseverance, and exhibiting his reward. The Aust
ferry, supposed to be the “ trajectus,” or place where
the Romans were accustomed to pass the Severn, is
visible, with several stations of that people and the an-
cient British, being a part of that great chain of forts
originally maintained to restrain the plundering inroads
of the restless inhabitants of the other bank of the
river: Thornbury, with it's fine cathedral-like church
and castle, the opposite red cliffs of the Severn, and the
stream itself, are fine and interesting features.

An encampment of some people, probably Romans,
occupies a rather elevated part of the parish, consisting
of perhaps three acres of ground, surrounded by a high
agger, with no ditch, or a very imperfect one, and prob-
ably was never designed for protracted resistance : it
appears to form one of the above-mentioned series of
forts erected by Ostorius, commencing at Weston, in
Somersetshire, and terminating at Bredon in the county

ROMAN ROADS.

10

of Worcester — ours was probably a specula, or watch-
hill, of the larger kind. We can yet trace, though at
places but obscurely, the roads that connected this en-
campment with other posts in adjoining villages. A few
years sweep away commonly all traces of roads of later
periods, and the testimony of some old man is often re-
quired to substantiate that one had ever been in exist-
ence within the memory of a life; yet these uniting
roads, which, as works, must have been originally in-
significant, little more than by-ways, after disuse for
above fourteen hundred years, and encountering all the
erasements of time, inclosures, and the plow, are yet
manifest, and an evidence of that wonderful people,
thieves and ruffians though they were, who constructed
them. There is probably no region on the face of the
globe ever colonized, or long possessed, by this nation,
which does not yet afford some testimony of their having
had a footing on it ; this people, who, so long before
their power existed, it was predicted, should be of “a
fierce countenance, dreadful, terrible, strong exceed-
ingly, with great iron teeth that devoured and broke in
pieces,”

— where’er thy legions camp’d,

Stern sons of conquest, still is known,

By many a grassy mound, by many a sculptured stone.

Almost every Roman road that I have observed ap-
pears to have been considerably elevated above the sur-
rounding soil, and hence more likely to remain apparent
for a length of time than any of those of modern con-
struction, which are flat, or with a slight central con-
vexity ; the turf, that in time by disuse would be formed
over them, would in one case present a grassy ridge, in
the other be confounded with the adjoining land.

Coins of an ancient date, I think, have not been found
here nor do we possess any remains of warlike edi-
fices, or religious endowments. Our laborers have at

* Some money was found in one of our fields a few years past,
which fame, as in all such cases, without perhaps any foundation,
enlarged to a considerable sum. The nature of the coin I know not.
A few old guineas were admitted ; but from fear of that spectre
“ tresor trove,” the whole was concealed, whatever it might be.

A FOREST.

11

various times dug up by the road-sides several skeletons
of human beings, and of horses ; they were in general
but slightly covered with earth ; and though the bones
were much decayed, yet the teeth were sound, and ap-
peared most commonly to have belonged to young per-
sons, and probably had been deposited in their present
situations at no very distant period of time. With the
bones of a horse so found there remained the iron head
of a lance, about a foot long, corroded, but not greatly
decayed. Unable better to account for these skeletons,
we suppose that they constituted, when alive, part of
the forces of General Fairfax, and that they fell in some
partial encounters with the peasantry when defending
their property about to be plundered by the foragers of
his army in 1645, at the time he was besieging the cas-
tle of Bristol. The siege lasted sixteen or seventeen
days ; many parties during that time must have been
sent out by him to plunder us cavaliers, and contention
would take place.

It is foreign to my plan to enumerate, and it might
be difficult to discover, all the changes and revolutions
which have taken place here ; and I shall merely men-
tion, that this district formerly constituted a regal forest,
and we find Robert Fitzharding holding it by grant in
the time of King John. We have a “ lodge farm,” it is
true, and the adjoining grange, the “conygar,” i. e.
coneygard, the rabbit-keeper’s dwelling, may, perhaps,
have been the situation of the sylvan warren ; but there
are no remains, or any other indications, of a forest ever
having been in existence. Names and traditional tales
are all that remain in most places now to remind us of
the ancient state of England, or to make credible the
narratives of our old historians, who lived when Britain
was a forest. Where shall we look for the remnants of
that mighty wood, filled with boars, bulls, and savage
beasts, that surrounded London? Even in our own days,
heaths, moors, and wilds, have disappeared, so as to
leave no indications of their former state but the name.
Woods and forests seem to be the original productions
of most soils and countries favorable for the abode of
mankind, as if inviting a settlement, and offering mate-

SOIL.

12

rials for its use. As colonies increase, wants are aug-
mented ; the woods are consumed ; the plow is intro-
duced, division of property follows ; a total change and
obliteration ensues, though the ancient appellation by
which the district was known yet continues.

The parish consists in parts of a poor, shattery gray
clay, beneath which we find, in some places, a coarse
lias; in others a spongy, rough, impure limestone; in
other parts a thin stratum of soil is spread over an im-
mense and irregular rock of carbonate of 'lime, running
to an unknown depth : this in many cases protrudes in
great blocks through the thin skin of earth. The rock,
though usually stratified, has no uniform dip, but trends
to different directions ; in some places it appears as if
immense sheets of semifluid matter had been pushed
out of the station it had settled in, by some other or
later-formed heavy-moving mass, or met with an im-
pediment, and so rolled up : that these sheets had not
fully hardened at the time of being moved is yet made
probable by the whole crystallization of the mass being
interrupted ; so that no part adheres firmly, but sepa-
rates into small shattery fragments when struck. This
substance we burn in very large quantities for building
purposes, and for manure, which, by the facility which
we have of obtaining small coal, is rendered at the low
rate of three-pence a bushel at the kiln. Our farmers,
availing themselves of this cheap article, use considera-
ble quantities, composted with earth, for their different
crops, at the rate of not less than a hundred bushels to
the acre. This is a favorite substance for their potato
land. The return in general is not so large as when
grown in manure from the yard ; but the root is said to
be more mealy, and better flavored.

The utility of lime as manure consists in loosening
the tenacious nature of some soils; rendering them
more friable and receptive of vegetable fibres : it espe-
cially facilitates the dissolution and putrefaction of ani-
mal and vegetable substances, which are thus more rea-
dily received and circulated in the growing plant ; and
it has the power of acquiring and long retaining mois-
ture ; thus rendering a soil cool and nutritive to the

LIME.

13

plants that vegetate in it. The power that lime has of
absorbing moisture will be better understood, when we
say, that one hundred weight will, in five or six days,
when fresh, absorb five pounds of water, and that it
will retain in the shape of powder, when slackened, or
loosened, as is commonly said, nearly one-fourth of its
weight.*

That lime rehardens after being made soft, as in mor-
tar, is owing to the power which it has of acquiring
carbonic acid — the fixed air of Dr. Black — from the at-
mosphere ; when the stone is burned, it loses this prin-
ciple, but re-absorbs it, though slowly, yet in time, and
it thus becomes as hard as stone again : we unite it
with sand to promote the crystallization and hardening.
The utility of lime in various arts, agriculture, manu-
factories, and medicine, is very extensive, and in many
cases indispensable ; and the abundance of it spread
through the world seems designed as a particular pro-
vision of Providence for the various ends of creation.
Lime, and siliceous substances, compose a very large
portion of the dense matter of our earth ; the shells of
marine animals contain it abundantly ; our bones have
eighty parts in one hundred of it ; the egg-shells of
birds above nine parts in ten — during incubation, it is
received by the embryo of the bird, indurating the
cartilages, and forming the bones. But the existence
and origin of limestone are pre-eminent amongst the
wonders of creation ; nor should we have been able,
rationally, to account for the great diffusion of this sub-
stance throughout the globe, however we might have
conjectured the formation, without the Mosaical revela-
tion. It may startle, perhaps, the belief of some, who
have never considered the subject, to assert what is ap-

* The weight of lime is very variable, differing in different places ;
but taking our lime at the average of eighty pounds to the bushel,
some idea may be conceived of the cooling nature of this substance.
Lime, to be used as manure, must be in a pulverized state ; and by
drawing on the land the quantity that we do, we convey to every
acre so dressed equivalent to two hundred and fifty gallons of water,
not to be evaporated, but retained in the soil as a refrigerant to the
fibres of vegetation.

B

LIME.

14

parently a fact, that a considerable portion of those pro-
digious cliffs of chalk and calcareous stone, that in many
places control the advance of the ocean, protrude in
rocks through its waters, or incrust such large portions
of the globe, are of animal origin — the exuviae of marine
substances, or the labors of minute insects, which once
inhabited the deep. In this conclusion now chemists
and philosophers seem in great measure to coincide.
Fourcroy observed, forty years ago, that “ it could not
be denied, that the strata of calcareous matter, which
constitute, as it were, the bark or external covering of
our globe, in a great part of its extent, are owing to the
remains of the skeletons of sea animals, more or less
broken down by the waters ; that these beds have been
deposited at the bottom of the sea, immense masses of
chalk, deposited on its bottom, absorb or fix the waters,
or convert into a solid substance part of the liquid
which fills its vast basins.” — Supplement to Chemistry ,
p. 263. Such are the conclusions of philosophical in-
vestigation ; and the discoveries of all our circumnavi-
gators fully corroborate these decisions as to formation.
Revelation in part accounts for the removal of these
stupendous masses ; though, probably, unrecorded con-
cussions since the great subversion of our planet have,
in remote periods, effected many of the removals of
these deposits. We find the basement of many of the
South Sea Islands, some of which are twenty miles long,
formed of this matter. Captain Flinders, in the gulf of
Carpentaria, held his course by the sides of limestone
reefs, five hundred miles in extent, with a depth irregu-
lar and uncertain ; and still more recently Captain
King, seven hundred miles, almost a continent, of rock,
increasing, and visibly forming : — all drawn from the
waters of the ocean by a minute creature, that wonder-
ful agent in the hands of Providence, the coral insect.
This brief account of the origin of calcareous rocks
was, perhaps, necessary before mentioning an extraor-
dinary fact, that, after the lapse of so vast a portion of
time since the basement of the mighty deep was heaved
on high, existing proofs of this event should remain in
our obscure village.

TRANSITION LIMESTOME.

15

The limestone rocks here are differently composed,
but are principally of four kinds — a pale gray, hard and
compact; a pale cream-colored, fine-grained and sono-
rous : these form the upper stratum of stone on our
down, a recent deposit, or more probably a mass heaved
up from its original station. The whole of this mass,
running nearly half a mile long, is obviously of animal
formation, a coral rock ; a compounded body of minute
cylindrical columns, the cells of the animals which con-
structed the material, the mouths of which are all mani-
fest by a magnifier. The stop in the progress of the
work is even visible ; soft, stony matter having arisen
from some of the tubes, and become indurated there in
a convex form ; in others the creatures have perished,
but their forms or moulds remain, though obscure, yet
sufficiently perfect to manifest the fact : these tubes, by
exposure to the air for any length of time, have the in-
ternal or softer parts decomposed, and the stone becomes
cellular. This stone burns to a fine white lime, and
is very free from impurities, containing in a hundred

parts —

Carbonate of lime . 88

Magnesia 8

Silex 1

Alumine,* colored with iron ....... 3

100

Another quarry presents, likewise, unquestionable
evidence of an animal origin, veins of it being com-
posed of shattered parts of shells, and marine substan-
ces, greatly consumed and imperfect, embedded in a
coarse, gray, sparry compound ; an ocean deposit, not a
fabrication, and consequently has more impurities in its
substance than that of insect formation : it contains

about

Carbonate of lime 73

Magnesia .11

Clay 14

Silex 2

100

* I have called this alumine, stained with oxide of iron ; but it
seems more like vegetable or animal remains, adhering to the filter
like a fine peaty deposit, and is lost in combustion.

16

LIMESTONE.

These two specimens so clearly prove that the origi-
nal materials of their substance were derived from the
deep, that no further arguments need be advanced to
support this fact as to our limestone. The former is,
perhaps, the mountain limestone of Werner ; the latter
a variety of dolomite. Our other quarries, as well as
the lower strata of the above, present no such indica-
tions of animal formation, and they are probably sedi-
ment arising from a minute division of shelly bodies,
now indurated by time and superincumbent pressure,
and become a coarse-grained marble. Our limestone
thus appearing not to be contaminated with any great
portion of magnesian earth, it may be used for all agri-
cultural purposes with advantage. Many detached
blocks of limestone are found about us, having broken
shelly remains, and the joints of the encrinite, greatly
mutilated, embedded in them. Irregularly wandering
near the lime-ridge is a vein of impure sandy soil, cov-
ering a coarse-grained siliceous stone ; sand agglutin-
ated, and colored by oxide of iron, resisting heat, and
used in the construction of our lime-kilns : the laborers
call it “ fire-stone.”

We occasionally, though sparingly, find, in a few
places on our downs, nodules of lead ore, which induced
persons in years past to seek for mineral riches ; but
the trial being soon abandoned, the result, I suppose,
afforded no reasonable ground for success. We like-
wise find thin veins of carbonate of strontian, but make
no use of it ; nor is it noted by us different from com-
mon rubbish ; nor do I know any purpose to which it is
peculiarly applicable, but in pyrotechnics. Spirit of
wine, in which nitrate of strontian has been mixed,
will burn with a beautiful bright red flame ; barytes,
which approaches near to strontia, affords a fine green ;
nitrates of both, compounded with other matters, are
used in theatrical representations. Strontian exists in
many places, and plentifully ; some future wants or ex-
periments will probably bring it into notice, and indicate
the latent virtues of this mineral.

Perhaps I may here mention an incident, that occur-
red a few years past at one of our lime-kilns, because it

SINGULAR EVENT. 17

manifests how perfectly insensible the human frame
may be to pains and afflictions in peculiar circumstan-
ces; and that which would be torture if endured in
general, may be experienced at other times without any
sense of suffering. A travelling man one winter’s even-
ing laid himself down upon the platform of a lime-kiln,
placing his feet, probably numbed with cold, upon the
heap of stones, newly put on to burn through the night.
Sleep overcame him in this situation; the fire gradually
rising and increasing until it ignited the stones upon
which his feet were placed. Lulled by the warmth, the
man slept on; the fire increased until it burned one
foot (which probably was extended over a vent-hole)
and part of the leg above the ankle entirely off; con-
suming that part so effectually, that a cinder-like frag-
ment was alone remaining ; and still the wretch slept
on ! and in this state was found by the kiln-man in the
morning. Insensible to any pain, and ignorant of his
misfortune, he attempted to rise and pursue his journey,
but missing his shoe, requested to have it found ; and
when he was raised, putting his burnt limb to the
ground to support his body, the extremity of his leg-
bone, the tibia, crumbled into fragments, having been
calcined into lime. Still he expressed no sense of pain,
and probably experienced none, from the gradual ope-
ration of the fire, and his own torpidity, during the
hours his foot was consuming. This poor drover sur-
vived his misfortunes in the hospital about a fortnight ;
but the fire having extended to other parts of his body,
recovery was hopeless.

Residences upon limestone soils have generally been
considered as less liable than other situations to infec-
tious and epidemic disorders ; and such places being
usually more elevated, they become better ventilated,
and freed from stagnated and unwholesome airs, and by
the absorbing principle of the soil are kept constantly
dry. All this seems to favor the supposition that they
are healthy ; but if exempted from ailments arising
from mal-aria, inflammatory complaints do not seem ex-
cluded from such situations. When the typhus fever
prevailed in the country, we were by no means exempt-

B 2

18 ABUNDANCE OF EMPLOY.

ed from its effects ; the severe coughs attending the
spring of 1826 afflicted grievously most individuals in
every house ; and the measles, which prevailed so great-
ly at the same season, visited every cottage, though
built upon the very limestone rock.

This village and its neighboring parishes, by reason
of the peculiar culture carried on in them, and the
natural production of the district, afford the most ample
employment for their laboring inhabitants ; nor perhaps
could any portion of the kingdom, neither possessing
mineral riches, manufactories, or mills, nor situate in
the immediate vicinity of a great town, be found to af-
ford superior demand for the labor, healthy employment,
and reasonable toil of its population. Our lime-kilns
engage throughout the year several persons ; this is,
perhaps, our most laborious employ ; though its returns
are considered as fair. In our culture, after all the va-
rious business of the farms, comes the potato-setting ;
nor is this finished wholly before haymaking com-
mences. Teaseling succeeds ; the corn harvest comes
on, followed shortly by the requirements of the potato
again, and the digging out and securing this requires
the labor of multitudes until the very verge of winter.
Then comes our employment for this dark season of the
year, the breaking of our limestone for the use of the
roads, of which we afford a large supply to less favored
districts. This material is not to be sought for in dis-
tant places, or of difficult attainment, but to be found
almost at the very doors of the cottages; and old men,
women, and children can obtain a comfortable mainte-
nance by it without any great exertion of strength, or
protraction of labor. The rough material costs nothing :
a short pickax to detach the stone, and a hammer to
break it, are all the tools required. A man or healthy
woman can easily supply about a ton in the day ; a child
that goes on steadily, about one-third of this quantity ;
and as we give one shilling for a ton, a man, his wife,
and two tolerable-sized children, can obtain from
2s. 8 d. to 3s. per day by this employ, the greater part
of the winter; and should the weather be bad, they
can work at intervals, and various broken hours, and

A WORTHY PEASANT.

19

obtain something- — and there is a constant demand for
the article. The winter accumulation is carted away
as the frost occurs, or the spring repair comes on. Our
laborers, their children and cottages, I think, present a
testimony of their well-doing, by the orderly, decent
conduct of the former, and the comforts of the latter.
There are years when we have disposed of about 3000
tons of stone, chiefly broken up for use by a few of our
village poor; if we say by twenty families, it will have
produced perhaps seven pounds to each, a most comfort-
able additiop to their means, when we consider that
this has been obtained by the weak and infirm, at inter-
vals of time without more than the cost of labor, when
employment elsewhere was in no request.

I may perhaps be pardoned in relating here the good
conduct of a villager, deserving more approbation than
my simple record will bestow ; and it affords an eminent
example of what may be accomplished by industry and
economy, and a manifestation that high wages are not
always essential, or solely contributive to the welfare
of the laborer.— When I first knew A. B., he was in a
state of poverty, possessing, it is true, a cottage of his
own, with a very small garden ; but his constitution
being delicate, and health precarious, so that he was not
a profitable laborer, the farmers were unwilling to em-
ploy him. In this condition he came into my service :
his wife at that time having a young child contributed
very little to the general maintenance of the family :
his wages were ten shillings per week, dieting himself,
and with little besides that could be considered as pro-
fitable. We soon perceived that the clothing of the
family became more neat and improved ; certain grada-
tions of bodily health appeared ; the cottage was white-
washed, and inclosed with a rough wall and gate ; the
rose and the corchorus began to blossom about it ; the
pig became two ; and a few sheep marked A. B. were
running about the lanes : then his wife had a little cow,
which it was “ hoped his honor would let eat some of
the rough grass in the upper field but this was not
entirely given : this cow, in spring, was joined by a
better; but finding such cattle difficult to maintain

ANALYSIS OF SOILS*

20

through the winter, they were disposed of, and the sheep
augmented. After about six years’ service, my honest,
quiet, sober laborer died, leaving his wife and two chil-
dren surviving: a third had recently died. We found
him possessed of some money, though I know not the
amount ; two fine hogs, and a flock of forty -nine good
sheep, many far advanced in lamb ; and all this stock
was acquired solely with the regular wages of ten shil-
lings a week, in conjunction with the simple aids of
rigid sobriety and economy, without a murmur, a com-
plaint, or a grievance !

I report nothing concerning our variously constituted
soil, thinking that no correct statement can be given by
any detail of a local district under cultivation, beyond
generally observing its tendency, as every soil under
tillage must be factitious and changeable. As a mere
matter of curiosity, I might easily find out the propor-
tions of lime, sand, clay, and vegetable earth, &c., that
a given quantity of a certain field contained ; but the
very next plowing would perhaps move a substratum,
and alter the proportions ; or a subsequent dressing
change the analysis: the adjoining field would be dif-
ferently treated, and yield a different result. I do not
comprehend what general practical benefit can arise
from chemical analysis of soils ; but as eminent persons
maintain the great advantages of it, I suppose they are
right, and regret my ignorance. That the component
parts of certain lands can easily be detected, and the
virtues or deficiencies of them for particular crops be
pointed out, I readily admit; but when known, how
rarely can the remedy be applied ! I haye three corre-
spondents, who send me samples of their several farms,
and request to know by what means they can meliorate
the soil. I find that B. is deficient in lime ; but under-
stand in reply, that this earth is distant from his resi-
dence, and too costly to be applied. D. wants clay ; E.
is too retentive and cold, and requires silex or sand ;
but both are so circumstanced, that they cannot afford
to supply the article required. Indeed it is difficult to
say what ought to be the component parts of a soil, un-
less the production of one article or grain is made the

ANALYSIS OF SOILS.

21

standard ; for differently constituted soil will produce
different crops advantageously : one farm produces fine
wheat, another barley ; others again the finest oats and
beans in the parish. To compound a soil of exact
chemical parts, so as to afford permanent fertility, is a
mere theory. Nature and circumstances may produce
a piece of land, that will yield unremitting crops of
grass, and we call it a permanently good soil ; but art
cannot effect this upon a great scale. A small field in
this parish always produces good crops; not in conse-
quence of any treatment it receives, but by its natural
composition ; consisting principally of finely pulverized
clay, stained with red oxide of iron, a considerable por-
tion of sand, and vegetable earth : but though I know
the probable cause of this field bearing such good
wheat, I cannot bring the surrounding and inferior ones
into a like constitution, the expense far exceeding any
hope of remuneration. Rudolph Glauber obtained gold
from common sand, but it was an expensive article !
Temporary food for a crop may be found in animal,
vegetable, or earthy manures, but these are exhaustible ;
and when aliment ceases, the crop proportionably di-
minishes. In one respect, chemical investigation may
importantly aid the agriculturist, by pointing out the
proportion of magnesian earth in certain limes used for
manure, and thus indicate its beneficial or injurious ef-
fects on vegetation. I should not like lime containing
20 per cent, of this earth ; but when it contains a much
smaller proportion, I should not think it very deleterious.
This earth acts as a caustic to vegetation, and, neither
being soluble in water, nor possessing the other virtue
of lime, diminishes the number of bushels used accord-
ing to its existence, and thus deprives the crop of that
portion of benefit : but after all, as Kirwan says, the
secret processes of vegetation take place in the dark,
exposed to the various and indeterminable influences
of the atmosphere ; and hence the difficulty of deter-
mining on what peculiar circumstance success or failure
depends, for the diversified experience of years alone
can afford a rational foundation for solid and specific
conclusions.

22

DAIRIES.

The real goodness of a soil consists principally, per-
haps, in the power it possesses of maintaining a certain
degree of moisture; for without this, the plant could
have no power of deriving nutriment from any aliment :
it might be planted on a dung-hill ; but if this had no
moisture in it, no nutriment would be yielded ; but as
long as the soil preserves a moisture, either by its own
constituent parts, or by means of a retentive substratum,
vegetation goes on. Continue the moisture, and in-
crease the aliment, and the plant will flourish in pro-
portion ; but let the moisture be denied by soil, substra-
tum, or manure, and vegetation ceases ; for, though
certain plants will long subsist by moisture obtained
from the air, yet, generally speaking, without a supply
by the root, they will languish and fade.

Our dairy processes, I believe, present nothing de-
serving of particular notice. From our milk, after be-
ing skimmed for butter, we make a thin, poor cheese,
rendered at a low price, but for which there is a constant
demand. Some of our cold lands, too, yield a kind
greatly esteemed for toasting ; and we likewise manu-
facture a thicker and better sort, though we do not con-
tend in the market with the productions of north Wilts,
or the deeper pastures of Cheshire or Huntingdon.

The agriculture of a small district like ours affords
no great scope to expatiate upon : great deviations from
general practice we do not aim at; experimental hus-
bandry is beyond our means, perhaps our faculties.
Local habits, though often the subject of censure, are
frequently such as the “genius of the soil” and situa-
tion render necessary, and the experience of years has
proved most advantageous.

Our grass in the pastures of the clay lands, in the
mowing season, which, from late feeding in the spring
and coldness in the soil, is always late,* presents a

* In 1826, the herbage on some of our clay lands designed for
mowing was, by reason of its tardy growth, and the dryness of the
season, in such small quantities, that the owners let it grow untouch-
ed until after the corn harvest, in order to obtain some bottom grass,
and, in consequence, our haymaking, as it was called, was not over
until the last week in September.

GRASS LANDS.

23

curious appearance ; and I should apprehend, that a
truss of our hay from these districts, brought into the
London market, or exhibited as a new article of proven-
der at a Smithfield cattle-show, would occasion conver-
sation and comment. The crop consists almost entirely
of the common field scabious (scabiosa succisa), logger-
heads (centauria nigra), and the great ox-eye daisy
(chrysanthemum lucanthemum.) There is a scattering
of bent (agrostis vulgaris), and here and there a speci-
men of the better grasses ; but the predominant portion,
the staple of the crop, is scabious — it is emphatically a
promiscuous herbage ; yet on this rubbish do the cattle
thrive, and from their milk is produced a cheese greatly
esteemed for toasting — melting, fat, arid good flavored,
and, perhaps, inferior to none used for this purpose.
The best grasses, indeed, with the exception of the dogs-
tail (cynosurus cristatus), do not delight in our soil:
the meadow poa (p. pratensis), and the rough stalked
poa (p. trivialis), when found, are dwarfish; and having
once occasion for a few specimens of the foxtail (alope-
curus pratensis), I found it a scarce and a local plant :
but I am convinced, from much observation, that certain
species of plants, and grasses in particular, are indige-
nous to some soils, and that they will vegetate and ul-
timately predominate over others that may be introduced.
In my own very small practice, a field of exceedingly
indifferent herbage was broken up, underwent many
plowings, was exposed to the roastings of successive
suns, and alternations of the year under various crops ;
amongst others that of potatoes ; the requisite hackings,
hoeings, and diggings of which alone were sufficient to
eradicate any original fibrous, rooted herbage. This
field was laid down with clean ray grass (lolium perenne),
white trefoil, and hop clover, and did tolerably well for
one year : and then the original soft-grass, (holcus lana-
tus) appeared, overpowered the crop, and repossessed
the field ; and yet the seed of this holcus could not
have lain inert in the soil all this time, as it is a grass
that rarely or never perfects it§ seed, but propagates by
its root. The only grass that is purposely sown — tre-
foils are not grasses — is, I believe, the ray, or rye, no

WILD PLANTS.

24

others being obtainable from the seedsman : this we
consider as perennial ; yet, let us lay down two pieces
of land with seeds, from the same sack, the one a low,
moist, deep soil, the other a dry upland, and in three
or four years we shall find the natural herbage of the
country spring up, dispute and acquire in part possession
of the soil, in despite of the ray-grass sown : in the
deep soil, the predominant crop will probably consist of
pose, cockfoot, meadow-fescue, hole us, phleum, foxtail,
&c. ; in the dry soil it will be dogstail, quaking grass,
agrostis, &c., not one species of which was ever sown
by us. It appears that the herbage of our poor thin
clay-lands is the natural produce of the soil, for every
fixed soil will produce something, and would without
care always exclude better herbage. Attention and
manures, a kind of armed force, would certainly support
other vegetation, alien introductions, for a time, but the
profit would not always be adequate. In a piece of
land of this nature I have suppressed the natural pro-
duce, by altering the soil with draining, sheep-feeding,
stocking up, and composting: and scabious, carnation
grass, mat grass, and their companions, no longer thrive ;
but if I should remit this treatment, they would again
predominate, and constitute the crop.

Most counties seem to have some individual or spe-
cies of wild plants predominating in their soil, which
may be scarce, or only locally found in another ; this is
chiefly manifested in the corn-lands — for aquatic or al-
pine districts, and some other peculiarities, must form
exceptions. This may be in some measure occasioned
by treatment or manure, but commonly must be attrib-
uted to the chemical composition of the soil, as most
plants have organs particularly adapted for imbibing
certain substances from the earth, which may be reject-
ed or not sought after by the fibrous or penetrating
roots of another. Festuca sylvatica abounds in every
soil without an apparent predilection for any one : F.
uniglumis, only where it can imbibe marine salt: F.
pinnata, is found vegetating upon calcareous soils alone,
and I have known it appear immediately as the limestone
inclined to the surface, as if all other soils were de«

WILD PLANTS.

25

iicient in the requisite nutriment. Many of the maiden-
hairs and ferns, pellitory, cotyledon, &c. are attached
in the crevices of old walls, seeking as it were for the
calcareous nitrate found there, this saltpetre appearing
essential to their vigor and health. The predominating
plants in some corn-fields is the red-poppy, cherlock
(sinapis arvensis), mustard (sin. nigra.), wild oat, corn-
flower (cyanus) ; but in some adjoining parish we shall
only sparingly find them. With us in our cold clay-
lands we find the slender foxtail grass (alopecurus agr.)
abounding like a cultivated plant: when growing in
clover, or the ray-grass, the whole are cut together, and
though not a desirable addition, is not essentially inju-
rious ; but vegetating in the corn, it is a very pernicious
weed, drawing nutriment from the crop, and overpow-
ering it by its more early growth, at times so impov-
erishing the barley or the oats, as to render them com-
paratively of little value. The upright brome grass
(bromus erectus) is a pest in our grass lands, giving the
semblance of a crop in a most unproductive soil ; hard
and wiry, it possesses no virtue as food, and is useless
as a grass : this bromus inclines to the limestone, the
lias, or clay-stone, as if alumine w’as required, to effect
some essential purpose in its nature; but this is a plant
not found universally.

We have in use generally here a very prudential
method of saving our crops in bad and catching sea-
sons, by securing the hay in windcocks, and wheat in
pooks. As soon as a portion of our grass becomes suffi-
ciently dry, we do not wait for the whole crop being in
the same state, but, collecting together about a good
wagon load of it, we make a large cock in the field,
and as soon as a like quantity is ready we stack that
likewise, until the whole field is successively finished,
and on the first fine day unite the whole in a mow.
Some farmers, in very precarious seasons, only cut
enough to make one of these cocks, and having secured
this, cut again for another. Should we be necessitated,
from the state of the weather, to let these parcels re-
main long on the ground, or be a little dilatory, which
I believe we sometimes are, before they are carried, or,

SAVING WHEAT.

26

as we say, bawled (haled,) the cocks are apt to get a
little warm, and only partially heat in the mow, the hay
cutting out streaky, and not perhaps so bright or fra-
grant as when uniformly heated in body : but I am ac-
quainted with no other disadvantage from this practice,
and it is assuredly the least expensive, and most ready
way of saving a crop in a moist and uncertain season.
For wheat it is a very efficacious plan, as these stacks
or pooks, (a corruption perhaps of packs,) when properly
made, resist long and heavy rains, the sheaves not being
simply piled together, but the heads gradually elevated
to a certain degree in the centre, and the but-end then
shoots off the water, the summit being lightly thatched.
An objection has been raised to this custom, from the
idea that the mice in the field take refuge in the pooks,
and are thus carried home ; but mice will resort to the
sheaves as well when drying, and be conveyed in like
manner to the barn : we have certainly no equally effi-
cacious or speedy plan for securing a crop of wheat,
and thousands of loads are thus commonly saved, which
would otherwise be endangered, or lost by vegetating
in the sheaf.

We will admit that grain, hardened by exposure to
the sun and air in the sheaf, is sooner ready for the
miller, and is generally a brighter article than that
which has been hastily heaped up in the pook ; but when
the season does not allow of this exposure, but obliges
us to prevent the germinating of the grain by any
means, I know no practice, as an expedient, rather than
a recommendation in all cases, more prompt and effi-
cacious than this.

Two of our crops not being of universal culture are
entitled to a brief mention. We grow the potato exten-
sively in our fields, a root which must be considered,
after bread-corn and rice, the kindest vegetable gift of
Providence to mankind. This root forms the chief
support of our population as their food, and affords them
a healthful employment for three months in the year,
during the various stages of planting, hacking, hoeing,
harvesting. Every laborer rents of the farmer some
portion of his land, to the amount of a rood or more,

VARIETIES OF THE POTATO.

27

for this culture, the profits of which enable him fre-
quently to build a cottage, and, with the aid of a little
bread, furnishes a regular, plentiful, nutritious food for
himself, his wife, and children within, and his pig
without doors ; and they all grow fat and healthy upon
this diet, and use has rendered it essential to their being.
The population of England, Europe perhaps, would
never have been numerous as it is, without this vege-
table ; and if the human race continue increasing, the
cultivation of it may be extended to meet every demand,
which no other earthly product could scarcely be found
to admit of. The increase of mankind throughout
Europe, within the last forty years, has been most re-
markable, as every census informs us, notwithstanding
the havoc and waste of continual warfare, and most ex-
tensive emigration ; and as it seems to be an established
maxim, that population will increase according to the
means of supply, so, if a northern hive should swarm
again, or

“ Blue-eyed myriads from the Baltic shore ”

once more arise, future historians will probably attribute
this excess of population, and the revolutions it may
effect, to the introduction of vaccination on the one
part, and the cultivation of the potato on the other.

The varieties of this tuber, like apples, seem annually
extending, and every village has its own approved sorts
and names, different soils being found preferable for
particular kinds, and local treatment advantageous. We
plant both by the dibble* and the spade : our chief sorts
are pink eyes, prince’s beauty, magpies, and china
oranges, for our first crop ; blacks, roughs, and reds, fo
the latter crop; and horses’ legs, for cattle. We have
a new sort under trial, with rather an extraordinary
name, which I must here call “ femora dominarum ! ”

* But dibbling is not held in esteem by us : we think that in wet
seasons the holes retain the moisture and the sets perish ; and that
in dry weather, being less covered than when planted by the spade,
they are more obnoxious to injury by birds and mice, become affected
by droughts, are longer in shooting out, and produce, in most cases,
inferior crops. In a lighter soil these objections, perhaps, would not
be found reasonable.

28

PROFIT.

But we find here, as is usual with other vegetable va-
rieties, that after a few years’ cultivation the sorts lose
their original characters, or, as the men say, “ the land
gets sick of them,” and they cease to produce as at
first, and new sets are resorted to. We have no vege-
table under cultivation more probably remunerative
than this, or more certain of being in demand sooner
or later ; it consequently becomes an article of specu-
lation, but not to such an injurious extent as some others
are : it gives a sufficient profit to the farmer and his
sub-renter. Our land is variously rented for this cul-
ture ; but perhaps eight pounds per acre are a general
standard : the farmer gives it two plowings, finds manure,
and pays the tithe ; the seed is found, and all the labor
in and out is performed by the renter ; or the farmer,
in lieu of any rent, receives half the crop. The far-

mer’s expenses may be rated at —

£. s. d.

Rent to his landlord 110 0

Two plowings 160

Twelve loads of manure . . . . . . 1 16 0

Tithe 0 10 0

Rates 030

£5 5 0

leaving him a clear profit of 2Z. 155. per acre. The sub
renter’s expenditure and profit will be —

£. s . d.

Rent ............800

Labor in and out 300

Five sacks of seed 1126

£12 12 6
£. s. d.

Produce 50 sacks, at 6s. Od 16 5 0

Trash, or small pigs 10 0

£17 5 0

leaving a profit of 4Z. 125. 6cZ. per acre. The produce
will vary greatly at times, and then the price of the ar-
ticle varies too. The returns to the laborer are always
ample, when conducted with any thing like discretion;
and the emolument to the farmer is also quite sufficient,

CULTURE OF THE POTATO

29

as, beside the rent, he is paid for the manuring his land
for a succeeding crop, be it wheat or barley ,* hence
land is always to be obtained by the cotter, upon appli-
cation. We have a marked instance in the year 1825
how little we can predict what the product of this crop
will be, or the change that alteration of weather may
effect,* for after the drought of the summer, after our
apprehensions, our dismay (for the loss of this root is a
very serious calamity), the produce of potatoes was
generally fair, in places abundant ,* many acres yielding
full eighty sacks, which, at the digging out price of 6s .
the sack, gave a clear profit to the laborer of lll.ls. 6cL
per acre ! But at any rate it gives infinite comfort to the
poor man, which no other article can equally do, and a
plentiful subsistence, when grain would be poverty and
want. The injudicious manner in which some farmers
have let their land has certainly, under old acts of par-
liament, brought many families into a parish ; but we
have very few instances where a potato-land renter to
any extent is supported by the parish. In this village
a very large portion of our peasantry inhabit their own
cottages, the greater number of which have been ob-
tained by their industry, and the successful culture of
this root. The getting in and out of the crop is solely
performed by the cotter and his family : a child drops a
set in the dibble-hole or the trench made by the father,
the wife with her hoe covering it up ; and in harvesting
all the family are in action; the baby is wrapped up
when asleep in its mother’s cloak, and laid under the
shelter of some hedge, and the digging, picking, and
conveying to the great store-heap commences ; a primi-
tive occupation and community of labor, that I believe
no other article admits of or affords.

It has been said that the culture of the potato is in-
jurious to the farm in general, and I know landlords
who restrict the growth of it ; but perhaps the extent
of injury has been greatly overrated. The potato, it is
true, makes no return to the land in straw for manure,
and a large portion of that which is made in the barton
is occasionally required for its cultivation ; and thus it
is said to consume without any repayment what is

C 2

30

INTRODUCTION OF THE POTATO.

equally due to other crops : but the cultivation of this
tuber requires that the soil should be moved and turned
repeatedly ; it is generally twice at least plowed, trench-
ed by the spade for sets, hacked when the plant is above
ground, then hoed into ridges, and finally, the whole
turned over again when the crop is got out ; thus is the
soil six times turned and exposed to the sun and air ;
and it is kept perfectly free from weeds of all kinds —
both of which circumstances are essentially beneficial
to the soil. If the potato must have manure, it does
not exhaust all the virtues of it, as the crop which suc-
ceeds it, be it wheat or barley , sufficiently manifests :
there are, besides, exertions made by the renter to ob-
tain this profitable crop, that greatly improve the farm,
and which a less promising one would not always stimu-
late him to attempt— he will cut up his ditch banks,
collect the waste soil of his fields, composting it with
lime and other matters as a dressing for the potato crop,
and it answers well : the usual returns from corn, and
fluctuations in the price, will not often induce him to
make such exertions. All this is no robbery of the
farm-yard, but solely a profitable reward and premium
to industry.

Much has been said and written about the potato ;
but as some erroneous ideas have been received con-
cerning its early introduction into Europe, perhaps a
slight sketch of the history of this extraordinary root
may not be uninteresting,* — a summary of the perusal
of multitudes of volumes, papers, treatises !

The sweet Spanish potato (convolvulus batatus), a
native of the East, was very early dispersed throughout
the continent of Europe ; and all the ancient accounts,
in which the name of potato is mentioned, relate exclu-
sively to this plant, a convolvulus: but our inquiry at
present regards that root now in such extensive culti-
vation with us, which is an American plant (solanum
tuberosum). Perhaps the first mention that is known
concerning the root is that of the great German botanist,
Clusius, in 1588, who received a present of two of the
tubers in that year from Flanders ; and there is a plate
of it among his rare plants. The first certain account

HISTORY OF THE POTATO.

31

which I know of by any English writer is in Gerard,
who mentions, in his herbal, receiving some roots from
Virginia, and planting them in his garden near London
as a curiosity, in the year 1597, All the multiform
tales which we have of its introduction by Hawkins,
shipwrecked vessels, Raleigh, and his boiling the apples
instead of the roots, are merely traditional fancies, or
modern inventions, with little or no probability for sup-
port. There is some possibility that Sir Walter Raleigh
might have introduced the potato into Ireland from
America, when he returned in 1584, or rather after his
last voyage, eleven years later ; but if so, it was much
confined in its culture, and slowly acquired estimation,
even in that island ; for Dr. Campbell does not admit
that it was known there before the year 1610, fifteen
years after Sir Walter’s final return. In England it
seems to have been yet more tardy in obtaining notice ;
for the first mention which I can find, wherein this
tuber is regarded as possessing any virtue, is by that
great man Sir Francis Bacon, who investigated nature
from the “ cedar that is in Lebanon even unto the hys-
sop that springeth out of the wall: he spake also of
beasts, and of fowls, and of fishes, and of creeping
things,” in his history of u Life and Death,” written,
probably, in retirement after his disgrace. He observes,
that “ if ale was brewed with one-fourth part of some
fat root, such as the potado, to three-fourths of grain, it
would be more conducive to longevity than with grain
alone.” It was thus full twenty-four years after its be-
ing planted by Gerard, that the nutritive virtues of this
root appear to have been understood : but with us there
seems to have been almost an antipathy against this
root as an article of food, which can scarcely excite
surprise, when we consider what a wretched sort must
have been grown, which one writer tells us was very
near the nature of Jerusalem artichokes, but not so good
or wholesome ; and that they were to be roasted and
sliced, and eaten with a sauce composed of wine and
sugar ! Even Philip Miller, who wrote his account not
quite seventy years ago, says “ they were despised by
the rich, and deemed only proper food for the meaner

HISTORY OF THE POTATO.

32

sorts of persons and this at a time when that sorry
root, the underground or Jerusalem artichoke (helian-
thus tuberosus) was in great esteem, and extensively
cultivated. And we must bear in mind the disinclina-
tion, the prejudice I might almost call it, that this root
manifests to particular soils. Most of our esculent ve-
getables thrive better— are better flavored, when grow-
ing in certain soils, and under different influences ; but
the potato becomes actually deteriorated in some land.
And every cultivator knows from experience, that the
much-admired product of some friend’s domain, or gar-
den, becomes, when introduced into his own, a very
inferior, or even an unpalatable root. Potatoes will
grow in certain parishes and districts, and even remain
unvitiated ; but the product will be scanty, as if they
tolerated the culture only, and produced by favor ;
whereas in an adjoining station, possessing some differ-
ent admixture of soil, some change of aspect, the crop
will be highly remunerative. These circumstances in
earlier days, when their value, and the necessity of pos-
sessing them, were not felt, counteracted any attempt
for extensive cultivation, or, probably, influenced the
dislike to their use.

However locally this solanum might have been plant-
ed, yet it appears, after consulting a variety of agricul-
tural reports, garden books, husbandmen’s directions,
& c. down to the statements of Arthur Young, that the
potato has not been grown in gardens in England more
than one hundred and seventy years ; or to any extent
in the field above seventy-five. At length, however, as
better sorts were introduced, and better modes of dress-
ing found out, it became esteemed; and the value of
this most inestimable root was so rapidly manifested,
and the demand for it so great, that we find by a survey
made about thirty years ago, that the county of Essex
alone cultivated about seventeen hundred acres for the
London market. I know not the extent of land now
required for the supply of our metropolis, but it must
be prodigious.

Amidst the numerous remarkable productions ushered
into the old continent from the new world, there are

HISTORY OF THE POTATO.

33

two which stand pre-eminently conspicuous from their
general adoption ; unlike in their natures, both have
been received as extensive blessings— the one by its
nutritive powers tends to support, the other by its nar-
cotic virtues to soothe and comfort the human frame—
the potato and tobacco : but very different was the favor
with which these plants were viewed : the one, long re-
jected, by the slow operation of time, and perhaps of
necessity, was at length cherished, and has become the
support of millions ; but nearly one hundred and twenty
years passed away before even a trial of its merits was
attempted : whereas the tobacco from Yucatan, in less
than seventy years after the discovery, appears to have
been extensively cultivated in Portugal, and is, perhaps,
the most generally adopted superfluous vegetable pro-
duct known ; for sugar and opium are not in such com-
mon use. Luxuries, usually, are expensive pleasures,
and hence confined to few : but this sedative herb, from
its cheapness, is accessible to almost every one, and is
the favorite indulgence of a large portion of mankind.
Food and rest are the great requirements of mortal life :
the potato, by its starch, satisfies the demands of hun-
ger ; the tobacco, by its morphin, calms the turbulence
of the mind : the former becomes a necessity required ,*
the latter a gratification sought for.

Many as the uses are to which this root is applicable
— and it will be annually applied to more ; if we con-
! sider it merely as an article of food, though subject to
i occasional partial failures, yet exempted from the blights,
the mildews, the wire- worms, the germinatings of corn,
which have often filled our land with wailings and with
death, we will hail the individual, whoever he might
be, who brought it to us, as one of the greatest bene-
factors to the human race, and with grateful hearts thank
the bountiful giver of all good things for this most ex-
! tensive blessing.

It is a well-known fact, that we are perfectly ignorant
of the native sites of nearly all those gramineous plants,
I distinguished by Linnaeus as Cerealia, whose seeds have
from the earliest periods of time served for the food of
man, such as wheat, rye, barley, rice, maize, oats : per-

HISTORY OF THE POTATO.

34

haps we must except the two last, as the oat was dis*
covered by Bruce growing under the culture of nature
alone ; and he was too good a botanist to have mistaken
the identity of Avena sativa— and Indian corn may have
been found. That some of them were produced in
those regions first inhabited by mankind, we have every
reason to believe, and the warrant of something like
obscure tradition ; but our ignorance of the first habitats
of these plants is the less to be wondered at, when we
consider that it is more than probable that culture and
the arts of man have so infinitely changed the form,
improved the nature, and obscured the original species,
that it is no longer traceable in any existent state.
There appears to be a permission from Nature to effect
certain changes in vegetables, yet she retains an inhe-
rent propensity in the plant to revert to its original
creation, which is very manifest in this particular race ;
for the sorts which we now make use of will not endure
the thraldom of our perversion without the artifices,
the restraints of man, but have a constant tendency to
return to some other nature, or to run wild, as we call
it. Man bears them with him in all his wanderings, by
his treatment they remain obedient to his desires, and
are identified with colonization, but as soon as he re-
mits his attentions, the seeds perish in the soil, or their
offspring dwindle in the earth, and are lost. Or we
may say, that Nature, having created these things, per-
mits him, in the sweat of his brow, to effect an improve-
ment, and consigns the custody of them to his care,
satisfied that he will preserve them for his own benefit
as long as required ; when his occasion for them ceases,
or when by sloth he neglects them, they return to their
original creation : the earth might be cursed to bring
forth thorns and thistles, but an attendant blessing and
mercy was reserved of permitting them to be cultivated,
producing healthful recreation and grateful food. If
these are plants of immemorial antiquity, the potato is
yet of comparatively modern introduction, but the origi-
nal species from whence all our endless varieties have
emanated cannot probably now be ascertained, man
having, as observed above, almost created an essential

HISTORY OF THE POTATO.

35

article of food ; and it is not unimportant to note the
great difference that subsists in the component parts
of these varieties — for though, in common estimation,
a potato may be a potato, yet we find them very differ-
ently compounded. The influence of different temper-
atures and years may cause these proportions to vary,
but I give them as observed in 1828.

Black or purple, Fibre 9|
Prince’s beauty . . do. 15
Horse’s legs .... do. 13

Fecula . . . 9£
Ditto... Ilf
Ditto ... 15

Water 801=100
Ditto 70J do.
Ditto 72 do.

The proportion of fecula varies greatly, and as the prin-
ciple of nutriment is supposed to exist in this matter,
the value of each sort, if mere nutriment is required,
is indicated by this analysis.

The potato may be considered as the most valuable
production that Europe has received from the continent
of America, and is now, as Bishop Heber informs us,
much esteemed in the East, and regarded as the greatest
benefit the country ever received from its European
masters. A plant that can so climatize and preserve its
valuable properties in such different temperatures as
northern Europe and Bengal, where the thermometer
ranges up to 90 or 100 degrees of heat, must be par-
ticularly endowed, and in time will probably become
naturalized to every region, and circulate its benefits
round the globe. The strenuous manner in which I
have lauded this root may, perhaps, excite a smile in
some, who only know it as a table viand ; but those
who have witnessed the blessings which this tuber con-
fers, by affording a sufficiency of food to man and beast,
will not be disposed to regard lightly such comforts ob-
tainable by their poorer neighbors.

Our second crop to which I alluded, and which some
years we grow largely, is the teasel (dipsacus fullonum),
a plant which is probably no native of this country, but,
like woad, canary-grass, &c., originally introduced by
some of the numerous foreign artisans, who have at va-
rious times sought refuge here, or been encouraged to
settle in England. Our woollen manufactory could
hardly have made any progress without this plant: the
constant continental wars in the earlier part of our mon-

THE TEASEL.

36

archy, and the rival jealousies of foreign nations, would
have impeded, or prohibited, the necessary supply of
teasels, and thus rendered the domestic cultivation of
this indispensable plant a primary object. The manu-
factory of cloth was certainly carried on in England
during the reign of Richard I., perhaps in his father’s
reign ; but it was probably not until after the tenth of
Edward III., that the teasel was cultivated to any extent
with us ; for about that time the exportation of English
wool was prohibited, and the wearing of foreign cloth
opposed by government. Flemish artisans were encour-
aged to settle in this country, and carry on their trade,
with every liberty and protection ; a regular mart was
established ; and the tuckers, or woollen weavers, be-
came an incorporated body ; particular towns began to
furnish peculiar colors — Kendal, its green, Coventry,
its blue, Bristol, its red, &c. ; and from this period, I
think, we may date the cultivation of the teasel in
England.

Hudson, in considering this species as indigenous,
directs us to hedges for our specimens ; but, though the
teasel is certainly found a wilding in some places astray
from cultivation, yet it is singular that with us it does
not wander from culture : though the seeds are scattered
about and swept from the barns where the heads are
dried into the yard, and vegetate in profusion on the
dung-heaps and the by-ways where dropped, yet I have
never observed it growing in the surrounding hedges.

Teasels are cultivated in some of the strong clay-
lands of Wilts, Essex, Gloucester, and Somerset. The
latter county is supposed to have grown them earliest.
The manufacturers rather give the preference to those
of Gloucester, as lands repeatedly cropped are thought
not to produce them so good in some respects. Strong
land, thrown up as for wheat, and kept dry, affords the
best teasels. Weeding, draining, and other requisites,
demand a constant labor through great part of the year;
and hence a certain expense is incurred : but remune-
ration, loss, or great profit, circumstances must deter-
mine ; nor, perhaps, is there any article grown more
precarious or mutable in its returns.

PROFITS.

37

The teasel throws up its heads in July and August;
and these are cut from the plant by hand, with a knife
particularly formed, and then fastened to poles for dry-
ing : the terminating heads are ready first, and called
“ kings they are larger and coarser than the others,
and fitted only for the strongest kinds of cloth, and are
about half the value of the best. The collateral heads
then succeed, and receive the name of “ middlings,”
and are the prime teasels. Should the season prove
moist, great injury ensues ; but exposure to wet for any
length of time ruins the head, which, by its peculiar
construction, retains the moisture, and it decays. We
cannot stack them like corn, as pressure destroys the
spines, and a free circulation of air is required to dry
them thoroughly; and we seek for barns, sheds, and
shelter of any kind, crowd the very bed -rooms of our
cottages with them in dripping seasons, and bask them
in every sunny gleam that breaks out : this is attended
with infinite trouble ; and as few farmers, who have so
many other concerns on their hands, like to encounter
it, they become the speculation of the most opulent
class of cottagers. When dry, they are picked and
sorted into bundles for sale, ten thousand best and small
middlings making a pack ; nine thousand constitute the
pack of kings. If there be a stock on hand, and the
season favorable, there is a sufficiency for the demand,
and the price low : if adverse weather ensue, the price
becomes greatly advanced, and we have known them in
the course of a few months vary from 4Z. to 22Z. the
pack ! but from 5Z. to 7 Z. is perhaps the average price
of this article. This variation in value affords the
growers a subject for constant speculation — a source of
rapid wealth to some, and injury to others — and we
most emphatically call teasels a “ casualty crop.” Our
manufacturers occasionally import teasels from Holland
and France, when the price is high in England : this
they can do when the home price exceeds 8 Z.

In letting teasel land, various agreements are made,
not necessary to mention in a note like this ; but it is
usually taken for two years, it requiring much of this

D

PROFITS.

38

time from sowing the seed to cutting the heads for sale
In rating the expenses, we will say —

£. s. d.

One acre, at 2Z. per ann. (for two years) .... 4 0 0

Expense of culture, 3Z. per ann per acre .... 6 0 0

Tithe ................080

Cutting the heads, per acre .060

Sorting and packing at 6s. for seven packs, average

crop 220

Miscellaneous expenses, polls, sticks, &c 10 0

13 16 0

Average crop brought to market, seven packs, at 6Z. 42 0 0

Leaving a profit for the 2 years, upon an acre, of £28 4 3

As the teasel man seldom rents less than four or six
acres, which he can very well attend to, it may produce
at the two years’ end a return upon the six acres of
169Z., if all circumstances should be favorable — a
tempting inducement to speculation, when a laborer,
by regular daily pay, cannot earn above 32Z. per annum.
But it requires some ready money to support the family
during this period of expectation — and if a bad season
occur, all the labor is lost, the profit destroyed, the anx-
iety of months ends in disappointment, and debt only
remains. This is most truly a casualty crop ; and the
manufacturers are so sensible of the risk and trouble
attending the cultivation of this plant, that they prefer
purchasing to growing it for their own use ; and I
know one who has declared his loss in the attempt to
exceed 500Z.

It has been thought that the cultivation of teasels ex-
hausted the land, and some landlords in consequence
have forbidden the growth of them in their agreements;
perhaps I can be no sufficient judge of the accuracy of
this idea, from our limited growth, but speaking locally,
such land as we make use of for their culture is of so
inferior a nature, that little deterioration can ensue from
any crop. The teasel, having a tap root, does not ex-
haust the superficial soil as a fibrous-rooted plant would
do ; the ground on which they grow is hoed, and turned
by the spade repeatedly, and up to a certain period
kept free from weeds ; but as the plant is forming heads,

USES OF THE TEASEL.

39

little attention seems given to the eradication of intrusive
rubbish, and, consequently, after gathering the crop the
soil is frequently in a very foul state, and from hence
the chief injury to the land may arise, rather than from
the teasel plant. Though this crop requires no manure,
nor affords any to the soil, yet the removal of the earth
so repeatedly by the hoe and spade becomes equivalent
to a fallow : with us a wheat crop often succeeds the
teasel, and I have observed in this case as good a return
of that grain as is produced by the adjoining fields
where teasels had not been grown.

This plant seems to be known in many countries by
a name expressive of its use. Old Gerard has recorded
several of these names. Its old English name was the
carding teasel; the Latin name, carduus veneris; the
French call it chardon de foullon ; the Danes and
Swedes, karde tidsel ; the Flemings, karden distel ; the
Hollanders, kaarden ; Italy and Portugal, cardo ; the
Spaniards, cardencha, &c.

I believe that the teasel affords a solitary instance of
a natural production being applied to mechanical pur-
poses in the state in which it is produced.* It appears,
from many attempts, that the object designed to be
effected by the teasel cannot be supplied by any con-
trivance— successive inventions having been abandoned
as defective or injurious. The use of the teasel is to
draw out the ends of the wool from the manufactured
cloth, so as to bring a regular pile or nap upon the sur-
face, free from twistings and knottings, and to comb
off the coarse and loose parts of the wool. The head
of the true teasel is composed of incorporated flowers,
each separated by a long, rigid, chaffy substance, the
terminating point of which is furnished with a fine hook.
Many of these heads are fixed in a frame ; and with
this the surface of the cloth is teased, or brushed, until
all the ends are drawn out, the loose parts combed off,
and the cloth ceases to yield impediments to the free

* Equisetum hyemale, the Dutch rush, or shave grass, is yet used
| in its natural state for finishing fine models in wood, and in removing
| roughness in plaster casts.

BAD CUSTOM IN FARMING.

40

passage of the wheel, or frame, of teasels. Should the
hook of the chaff, when in use, become fixed in a knot,
or find sufficient resistance, it breaks without injuring
or contending with the cloth, and care is taken by suc-
cessive applications to draw the impediment out : but
all mechanical inventions hitherto made use of offer re-
sistance to the knot ; and, instead of yielding and break-
ing as the teasel does, resist and tear it out, making a
hole, or injuring the surface. The dressing of a piece
of cloth consumes a great multitude of teasels — it re-
quiring from 1500 to 2000 heads to accomplish the
work properly. They are used repeatedly in the different
stages of the process ; but a piece of fine cloth gene-
rally breaks this number before it is finished, or we may
say that there is a consumption answering to the pro-
posed fineness — pieces of the best kinds requiring one
hundred and fifty or two hundred runnings up, according
to circumstances.

Our small farmers here have a vile practice of pick-
ing from their turf, in the spring of the year, all the
droppings of their autumn and winter fed cattle to carry
on their arable land for the potato, or some grain crop :
this affords no great supply to, plowed land, and is very
injurious to their grazing grounds ; but the answer
generally is, “ that the corn must have manure, and the
beast can take care of itself;” and in many cases, I fear,
from the starved appearance of the young cattle, that
their best endeavors have afforded a very inadequate
supply.

This picking of the field was formerly very generally
resorted to in the midland counties ; but the farmers at
that time had a sufficient excuse in the scarcity of com-
mon fuel. The droppings of the cows were collected
in heaps, and beaten into a mass with water ; then press-
ed by the feet into moulds like bricks, by regular pro-
fessional persons, called clatters (dodders); then dried
in the sun, and stacked like peat, and a dry March for
the clat-harvest was considered as very desirable. These
answered very well for heating water for the dairy and
uses of the farm back-kitchen, giving a steady, dull
heat, without flame ; but navigable canals, and other

STUDY OF NATURAL HISTORY,

41

conveniences of a similar nature, have rendered the
practice now unnecessary. With us this bad custom is
declining, and probably in time will cease altogether.

It is rather a subject of surprise, that in our general
associations and commixtures in life, in times so highly
enlightened as the present, when many ancient preju-
dices are gradually flitting away, as reason and science
dawn on mankind, we should meet with so few, com-
paratively speaking, who have any knowledge of, or take
the least interest in natural history ; or if the subject
obtain a moment’s consideration, it has no abiding place
in the mind, being dismissed as the fitting employ of
children and inferior capacities. But the natural his-
torian is required to attend to something more than the
vagaries of butterflies, and the spinnings of caterpillars ;
his study, considered abstractedly from the various
branches of science which it embraces, is one of the
most delightful occupations that can employ the atten-
tion of reasoning beings : a beautiful landscape, grateful
objects, pleasures received by the eye or the senses, be-
come the common property of all who can enjoy them,
being in some measure obvious to every one ; but the
naturalist must reflect upon hidden things, investigate
by comparison, and testify by experience, and living
amidst the wonders of creation, it becomes his occupa-
tion to note and proclaim such manifestations of wisdom
or goodness as may be perceived by him. And perhaps
none of the amusements of human life are more satis-
factory and dignified, than the investigation and survey
of the workings and ways of Providence in this created
world of wonders, filled with his never-absent power :
it occupies and elevates the mind, is inexhaustible in
supply, and, while it furnishes meditation for the closet
of the studious, gives to the reflections of the moralizing
rambler admiration and delight, and is an engaging com-
panion, that will communicate an interest to every rural
walk. We need not live with the humble denizens of
the air, the tenants of the woods and hedges, or the

D 2

AN ANCIENT OAK,

42

grasses of the field ; but to pass them by in utter disre-
gard, is to neglect a large portion of rational pleasure
open to our view, which may edify and employ many a
passing hour, and by easy gradations will often become
the source whence flow contemplations of the highest
orders. Young minds cannot, I should conceive, be too
strongly impressed with the simple wonders of creation
by which they are surrounded : in the race of life they
may be passed by, the occupation of existence may not
admit attention to them, or the unceasing cares of the
world may smother early attainments — but they can
never be injurious — will give a bias to a reasoning mind,
and tend, in some after-thoughtful, sobered hour, to
comfort and to soothe. The little insights that we have
obtained into nature’s works are many of them the off-
spring of scientific research ; and partial and uncertain
as our labors are, yet a brief gleam will occasionally
lighten the darksome path of the humble inquirer, and
give him a momentary glimpse of hidden truths : let
not then the idle and the ignorant scoff at him who de-
votes an unemployed hour, —

“ No calling left, no duty broke,”

to investigate a moss, a fungus, a beetle, or a shell, in
“ ways of pleasantness, and in paths of peace.” They
are all the formation of Supreme Intelligence, for a wise
and a worthy end, and may lead us by gentle gradations
to a faint conception of the powers of infinite wisdom.
They have calmed and amused some of us worms and
reptiles, and possibly bettered us for our change to a
new and more perfect order of being.

We yet possess two forest trees, beautiful and unmu-
tilated ! An oak in Shellard’s lane has escaped the wood-
man’s ax, the hedger’s bill: it stands on the side of
the waste, and has long afforded shade and shelter to
an adjoining farm-house. These circumstances, and not
being valuable as a timber tree, may have contributed
to its preservation : its hamadryad is left alone in the
land to mourn her lost companions. This tree is not
mentioned as being at all comparable with the gigantic
productions of the kind that we have accounts of, and

AGE OF TREES.

43

perhaps by many would be passed by unnoticed ; yet it
is deserving of some regard, from the vegetable powers
that have existed, and still continue in its trunk. The
bole, at some very distant period, by accident or design,
appears to have lost its leading shoot, and in conse-
quence has thrown out several collateral branches : three
remain, which have now grown into trees themselves
existing in full vigor, and constituting a whole of much
beauty. It is a characteristic specimen of an oak, with
all the corrugations, twistings, furrows, and irregularities,
which this tree with a free growth generally exhibits ;
expanding its three vigorous arms to the Sun of Heaven
with a pendent, easy dignity, that seems like an enjoy-
ment of unrestrained liberty. We have no good criterion
to regulate our judgment with regard to the age of trees
of considerable antiquity. In young ones the rings of
the wood will often afford a reasonable ground for
opinion; but in old trees these marks are absorbed,
obscured, or uncertainly formed, so as to be no suffi-
cient guide. In particular cases, such as inclosure of
waste or other lands, formation of parks and plantations,
the times of planting are sufficiently recorded ; but
generally speaking, neither oral tradition, nor written
testimony, remains to indicate the period when a tree
sprang up. This oak, however, from all the signs of age
that it retains, must have existed as a sapling at some
very distant day, and is the most undoubted relic of
antiquity in the vegetable world that we possess.

The elm, and the beach, in age, frequently present
very decided vestiges of a former day ; but the oak of
centuries has impressed upon it indelible characters of
antiquity, and is a visible vetustum monumentum . The
wreathings and contortions of its bark, even its once
vigorous, but now sapless limbs, with their bare and
bleached summits, stagdieaded and erect, maintain a
regality of character which perfectly indicates the mon-
arch of the forest, and which no other tree assumes. We
have many accounts in different authors of the pro-
digious size which the oak has attained in England ;
but most of the trees, that have arrived at any vast cir-
cumference, seem, like this our village oak, to have lost

AGE OF TREES,

44

their leaders when young, and hence are short in the
but : yet we have records of aspiring timber trees of
this species of astonishing magnitude, though perhaps
none of them exceed those mentioned by Evelyn, cut
down near Newberry in Berkshire, one of which ran
fifty feet clear without a knot, and cut clean timber five
feet square at the base ; its consort gave forty feet of
clear, straight timber, squaring four feet at its base, and
nearly a yard at the top. The “ lady oak,” mentioned
by Sir E. Harley, produced a but of forty feet, and
squared five feet throughout its whole length, thus produc-
ing twenty tons of timber, a mass of surprising grandeur !
But the most magnificent oak ever known to have grown
in England was probably that dug out of Hatfield bog :
it was a hundred and twenty five feet in length, twelve in
diameter at the base, ten in the middle, and six at the
smaller end, where broken off; so that the but for sixty
feet squared seven feet of timber, and four its entire
length. Twenty pounds were offered for this tree.*
This extraordinary vegetable should have been preserved
in some museum, as unequalled in ancient, unapproach-
able in modem days ; exceeding in magnitude even
that famous larch brought to Rome in the reign of Ti-
berius,f and reserved as a curiosity for many years,
which was one hundred and twenty feet long, and two
feet in diameter its whole length.

Indigenous, flourishing, and inured to all the caprices
of our climate as the oak is, yet it produces its fruit
very precariously, and at times sparingly, like a plant
of exotic origin ; which does not appear to have been
the case formerly, when such herds of swine were
maintained by the produce of our woods alone, and
grants from manorial lords for permission thus to feed
them were recorded with care as valuable obtainments.

The cause of infertility in indigenous trees can arise
from no defect of construction in the organs of fructi-
fication, but from some obstruction, perversion, redun-
dancy, or vitiation of the natural powers ; which is par-

* Philosoph. Trans, as quoted in the Sylva.
t Pliny’s Natural History.

HISTORY OF THE OAK.

45

ticularly manifested by the faculty which they possess
at one period of producing fruit, and their impotency
at another. This imbecility from one cause or another
probably influences at periods every tree or herb that
springs from the earth ; but in regard to the oak, the
most general and probable cause of its sterility is sus-
pended circulation. This is more immediately brought
to notice from our custom of barking the timber of this
tree in the spring. At times our barkers go on rapidly
with their work ; yet in a few hours a frost, or a sharp
wind, will put an entire stop to their operations, in con-
sequence of the cessation of the flow of sap, which is
followed by the adhesion of the bark to the wood.
Whenever this nutriment ceases to be supplied, the
immature and tender germen must languish ; and if the
supply be long suspended, it must perish from deficiency
of food. That such is the natural effect of spring frosts
and sudden chills, more injurious probably to the fruit
in this immature state, from its greater delicacy, than
when it is more developed, is reasonable to suppose : how
far a change of seasons may have taken place to accom-
plish the injury alluded to, more commonly now than in
former periods, we have no criterion for proving; but
if failures of the acorn crop took place as frequently in
times when swine’s flesh was mostly the diet of the
middle and lower classes of people as they do now, the
privations of our forefathers were severe indeed.

An interesting volume might be formed, entitled the
“ History of the Oak.” The first mention that we know
of this tree is that ancient of days, the “ oak of Mamre,”
under which Abraham sat in the heat of the day ; anA
that it was an oak, one of the fathers, Eusebius, tells
us, as it remained an object of veneration even in the
time of Constantine. We would note all the celebrated
querci of antiquity ; the use, value, strength, duration,
&c., of its timber ; the infinite variety of purposes to
which its various parts are applied by the mechanic, the
dyer, the artisan ; the insects, which amount to hundreds
of species, that live and have their being on the oak ;
the vegetables it nourishes, ferns, lichens, mosses,
agarics, boleti, &c. ; the sawdust, apples, gallnuts,

ANCIENT WYCII ELM.

46

acorns, leaves, and innumerable et cetera of Britain’s
guardian tree. However highly the Druids might vene-
rate the oak, and make it the emblem and residence of
their deity, yet the intrinsic value of this tree was un- i
known to our remote forefathers. All their knowledge
of its virtues was probably included in its uses for
building, its acorns for their swine, and, perhaps, its
bark for preserving the skins which they used. Modern
ingenuity and necessity have brought its various quali-
ties into notice, or our oak would have received such
honors, as in days of darkness were conferred upon in-
animate things : Attica considered the olive as the gift
of her tutelary goddess, and some benevolent saint
would have been lauded and hymned, for having en-
dowed the oak of Britain with such extensive virtues
for the good of mankind.

The other tree, that I mentioned above as one of our
boasts, is a wych or broad-leaved elm (ulmus montana),
standing near the turnpike road. This very fine and
stately tree was saved, when the merciless ax levelled
all its companions, at the solicitation of a lady now no
more, and remains a testimony of her good taste, the
civility of the agent, and the ornament of our village.
When in youth, this species presents a character deci-
dedly different from the common elm (ulmus campes-
tris). Its branches at times are so strong as to be nearly
equal in size with the main stem that supports them,
and loaded with such a profusion of foliage, that the
sprays become pendent, and give the idea of luxuri-
ance with weakness, of a growth beyond strength ; ad-
vancing in age, its arms and sprays become less pensile,
as the leaves are smaller and less burdensome ; yet they
hang commonly in large heavy masses, like what we
formerly were accustomed to see in the aquatintas of
Jukes, and the prints of that period. It can however
occasionally assume the appearance of elegance and
lightness, and is usually less aspiring and more branch-
ing than the common elm ; its dense foliage yields a
fine shade for cattle, and it deserves even on this ac-
count, if it possessed no other merit, a more general
cultivation. The wych elm, though a rare tree in some

47

VALUE OF THE WYCH ELM.

counties, seems more extensively spread over England
than the other species, and adventures farther to the
north. Ray tells us, on the authority of Aubrey, that
the common elm, so called, is scarcely found indigenous
northward of Lincolnshire, whereas this species is found
even in Scotland. Our soil is very favorable to the
growth of both species. The wych elm affords a tough
and valuable wood for the wheeler and the mill-wright ;
the bark from the young limbs is stripped off in long
ribands, and often used, especially in Wales, for securing
thatch, and for various bindings and tyings, to which
purpose its flexible and tough nature renders it well
adapted. Gerard says, that arrows were made from the
wood of this tree, and he lived at a period when he
could well ascertain the fact, during the reign of Eliza-
beth and her predecessor, before fire-arms had super-
seded this truly British weapon : he was in the younger
part of his life gardener to the great Lord Burleigh.
That the wych elm, when permitted, will attain large
dimensions, is manifest by the size of several we have
observed in many places ; but that gigantic one, which
grew in Staffordshire, exceeds in magnitude any other
of this species which we ever heard of. It required
the labor of two men for five days to fell it ; it was
forty yards in length, with a diameter of seventeen feet
at the but ; yielding eight pair of naves, and eight thou-
sand, six hundred, and sixty feet of boards, the sawing
of which cost 10Z. 17s. It contained ninety-seven tons
l of timber. As Evelyn says, “ this was certainly a
goodly tree ! ” The etymology of this tree seems to be
unknown, and different authors, who mention it, spell
it, accordingly, various ways : Evelyn calls it wich, and
witch ; Gilpin, wich ; others, wych ; Bacon, weech. The
| foliage of the young trees of this elm are the favorite
food of the larvae of the BufLtip-moth, (Phal. Bucepha-
la), for though they likewise feed upon the young leaves
of the oak, and the lime, yet they give the preference
to those of this tree ; when so feeding, it will always
be known by their rejectments on the earth beneath,
which when the larvae are in any number, may be noticed
by very unattentive persons. This caterpillar, when

48 EFFECTS OF COLD ON THE WYCH.

nearly fed for its change, becomes heavy, and commonly
falls to the earth from the spray, and we can see them
crawling along the paths, or even upon the clothes of
persons that have walked under the trees where they
have fed : though this creature is very often found in
considerable numbers throughout the summer and au-
tumn, yet by reason of some fatality, the moth is by no
means so common an insect as might be expected from
the profusion of its larvas.

We have no indigenous tree that suffers from the ad-
vance of the winter season so early as the wych elm.
A few others may manifest its approach nearly as soon,
but they become augmented in splendor by a touch
of the frosty air, not ruined and denuded like our elm,
which contributes no grandeur, no beauty, to our au-
tumnal scenery, as its leaves curl up, become brown,
and flutter from their sprays, when growing in exposed
situations, as early often as the middle of September,
by constitutional mechanism alone, even before the
beech or the maple seems sensibly affected by the cold.
This character of itself marks a difference from the
common elm, which preserves its verdure, except from
accidental causes, long after this period ; and then,
when its season arrives, the foliage becomes tinged with
a fine, mellow, yellow hue, contributing a full share
with other trees to the character and splendor of autumn.
The wych elm may occasionally be desirable in the few
days that our northern summer requires its deep shades,
but will not otherwise afford pleasure or beauty in the
shrubbery or the park as an ornamental tree, as its
leafless sprays announce too early the unwelcome ter-
mination of our floral year, and its sober russet foliage
is scattered at our feet without preparation or a parting
smile.

Trees in full foliage have long been noted as great
attractors of humidity, and a young wych elm in full
leaf affords a good example of this supposed power;
but in the winter of the year, when trees are perfectly
denuded, this faculty of creating moisture about them
is equally obvious, though not so profusely. A strongly
marked instance of this was witnessed by me, when

TREES ATTRACTORS OF HUMIDITY. 49

ascending a hill in the month of March. The weather
had previously been very fine and dry, and the road in
a dusty state ; but a fog coming on, an ash tree hanging
over the road was dripping with water so copiously,
that the road beneath wTas in a puddle, when the other
parts continued dry, and manifested no appearance of
humidity. That leaves imbibe moisture by one set of
vessels and discharge them by another, is well-known ;
but these imbibings are never discharged in falling
drops : the real mystery was, the fog in its progress wras
impeded by the boughs of the tree, and gradually col-
lected on the exposed side of them, until it became
drops of water, whereas the surrounding country had
only a mist flying over it. Thus in fact the tree was
no attractor, but a condenser ; the gate of a field will
in the same manner run dowTn with water on the one
side, and be dry on the other ; as will a stick, or a post,
from the same cause. It is upon this principle that
currents of air will be found under trees in summer,
when little is perceived in open places ; and the under
leaves and sprays will be curled and scorched at times,
when the parts above are uninjured. The air in its
passage being stopped and condensed against the foliage
of the tree, it accordingly descends along its surface
or front, and escapes at the bottom, where there are no
branches or leaves to interrupt its progress. In winter
there is little to impede the breeze in its course, and it
passes through ; consequently at this season the air un-
der a tree is scarcely more sensibly felt than in the ad-
joining field.

It may be observed, that in the spring of the year
the herbage under trees is generally more vivid and
luxuriant, than that which is beyond the spread of the
branches : this may be occasioned, in some instances,
by cattle having harbored there, and the ground becom-
ing in consequence more manured ; but it will be found
likewise manifestly verdant and flourishing where no
such accessory could have enriched it, and is, I appre-
hend, in general, chiefly owing to the effects of the
driving fogs and mists, which cause a frequent drip be-
neath the tree, not experienced in other places, and

E

50 FOLIAGE OF TREES AND PLANTS.

thus in a manner keep up a perpetual irrigation and
refreshment of the soil, and promote the decomposition
of the foliage beneath, which being drawn into the earth
by worms, contributes to the verdure by the nutriment
they yield.

The foliage of trees and plants, by its amazing pro-
fusion, variety, and beauty, must ever have been, as it
is now, a subject of admiration and delight, is perhaps
full as deserving of notice, and at times even more to
be regarded, than the blossoms which accompany it.
Let us take only one yard square upon the first verdant
ditch-bank in spring, and the variation of form and
character which will there be presented may probably
exceed general imagination ; but the object of all this
extraordinary diversity is concealed, with the many other
mysteries of creation : yet we have such an ascendant
thirst for information upon the causes and nature of the
things about us, as to render it an apparent inherent
principle of the mind, inducing it to gratitude and love.
From information in all the works of Providence arises,
as a necessary consequence, admiration, and an exalted
sense of supreme intelligence and goodness. Without
the desire of knowing the designs and processes of
things, no investigation would be bestowed, and we
should remain in ignorance of all but the bare facts,
and gross perceptions of creation ; nor can it be ques-
tioned but that the more extensive our acquaintance is
with the objects of Providence, in such proportions
must our convictions be of his justice, wisdom, and
power.

The great utility of foliage, and its agency in accom-
plishing the requirements of the plant and its products,
are well known ; and we can form some comprehension
of the vast supply that is required by a tree, when we
view its foliage, each leaf being employed in receiving
and transmitting gases from the air in certain propor-
tions to the plant : these great operations having been
effected during the summer months, and this agency of
the leaves finished, they fall to the ground, not as a
useless encumbrance, but to convey a large portion of
fresh soil peculiarly fitted for the nutriment of vegeta-

FOLIAGE OF TREES AND PLANTS.

51

tion. Should they remain in any quantity beneath the
tree, they appear to be injurious to the smaller herbage,
but they are more generally dispersed as they part from
the sprays by the gales of autumn, which whirl them
along in crowds to the hedges, trenches, and ditches
around : here they accumulate and decay, furnishing, in
conjunction with other vegetable decompositions, a very
nutritive earth, as is manifest by the wild plants grow
ing in those situations, for notwithstanding all the ob
structions of shade, thorns, and briers, they are gene-
rally found in great luxuriance or health. This earth
in time crumbled by frosts, and washed by rains into
the ditches from the banks, becomes accumulated there,
and we collect it, compost it with other matters, and
use it as a beneficial dressing for our cultivated lands:
many of these leaves, however, remain near the tree,
and soon communicate their virtues to the herbage :
some are consumed by natural consequences, others are
attacked by small fungi, which break their surfaces,
admit moisture, and facilitate decay ; the worm now
seizes them as his portion, and having fed upon a part,
draws the remainder into the earth, where a rapid sepa-
ration of the parts takes place, and they are received
through the roots into vegetable circulation anew ; and
thus the beautiful foliage which has been so pleasing
during our summer months, supplied the tree with sus-
tenance to increase its magnitude, and all the requisites
demanded by its fruits and products — has glowed per-
haps with splendor, and been our admiration in the de-
cline of the year, now returns to the soil, not to encum-
ber it, but to administer health and vigor to a new series
of vegetation, and circulate in combinations hidden from
any human perception.

By a very wise appointment, peculiar propensities
have been bestowed upon the vegetable world, greatly
assimilating to the tastes and inclinations of the ani-
mated tribes. Beasts and insects feed on particular
plants, and reject others, and the delight of one is dis-
gusting to another. So, some plants, not having the
power of locomotion, will thrive only in certain com-
pounded soils, aspects, and situations, evincing a similar

FETID HELLEBORE.

52

tendency to preference of nourishment as do the sensi-
tive tribes ; and some districts, that vary a little in their
component parts or position from those adjoining, will
present an individual or a race that is not found in
another : the common product of the North or of the
East is treasured in the Herbarium of the southern or
western botanist ; we can boast but few, yet we have
some of these capricious children of the soil.

The fetid hellebore (helleborus foetidus) is not a com-
mon plant with us, but we find it sparingly in one or
two places ; and though a plant indigenous to Britain,
yet it is not improbable that it has strayed from cultiva-
tion, and become naturalized in many of the places in
which we now find it. Its uses as an herb of celebrity
for some complaints of cattle occasioned its being fos*
tered in many a cottage-garden long since erased, where
the good wife was the simple doctress of the village,
when perhaps mortality was not more extensive than .in
these days of greater pretension and display. Modem
practice yet retains preparations of this herb, but it ap-
pears that, from the powerful manner in which they act,
great discretion is necessary in their administration.
This hellebore is one of our few plants that present us
with a dull, unsightly, unpleasing blossom. We have
many with a corolla so small as to be little noticed ; but
this plant, and the fetid iris (iris foetidissima), produce
blossoms, that would generally be considered as dark-
some and cheerless. There is no part of a vegetable
which we usually admire more than its flowers, for that
endless variety of colors, shades, forms, and odors, with
which they are endowed ; yet the utility of the blossom
is by no means obvious. Linnasus calls the corolla the
arras, the tapestry of the plant ; and we are perfectly
sensible that the blossom in very many instances is es-
sential in various ways to securing and perfecting the
germen; that it often contains the food of multitudes
of insects, which feed on the pollen, the honey, or the
germen ,* and that the odor emitted by it leads fre-
quently various creatures to the object in request, and
by their agency the fecundation and perfecting of the
seeds are often effected : but we are astonished at the

FLOWERS OP' PLANTS.

53

elaborate mechanism and splendor of some species, and
see the whole race of creation, with the exception of
man, utterly regardless of them. Butterflies and other
insects will bask on expanded flowers, and frequent
their disks, but it is in wantonness, or to feed on the
sweet liquors they contain. The carpenter bee, that
every summer cuts its little circular patches in such
quantities from my roses to line its nest in the old gar-
den door, selects the green leaves only, chiefly from the
China, Provence, and damask kinds,* passing over the
petals of their blossoms as useless. That splendid in-
sect the rose beetle ‘(cetonia aurata), that beds and
bathes in sweetness, will partially eat the flowers of
some species of roses, and “ lap the nectar they pro-
duce and a few others nibble a little ; but the lilia-
ceous tribes, and other glorious flowers, as far as we
know, furnish to insects no supply, but expand, wither,
and die, unnoticed but by the eye of man alone. Flow-
ers that are grand, gay, cheerful or beautiful, predomi-
nate infinitely over those that are of a sombre hue or
gloomy aspect. Employment and occupation were as
much the design, as they are found to be essential to
the happiness of human life : we are not all constituted
to soar in the higher regions of scientific research ; our
dispositions are as various as our intellects. Horticul-
ture was the first occupation instituted for man, and he
cannot pursue a more innocent and harmless employ :
we were given “ every herb, and every tree upon the
face of the earth.” For food, or raiment, the immediate
necessities of man, a very few of them are applicable ;
but we can collect them for amusement, in admiration
of their beauty. Without this beauty, they would be
no object of research ; and man, who is exclusively sen-
sible of its existence, can alone find pleasure in viewing
it. The mind that is delighted with such admiration,
must be almost insensibly led to an attendant pleasure,
the contemplation, the perception of infinite wisdom

* This bee does not exclusively make use of the leaves of rose for
its purposes, as I have known it in some seasons cut away the young
foliage of cytisus laburnum, even when growing in company with its
favorite rose.

E 2

54 USE AND APPLICATION OF FLOWERS.

and power, manifested in the adornment, splendor, and
formation, of even the simplest flower of the field. I
would not arrogate for man an exclusive right, or make
him generally the sole consideration of the beneficence
of Providence ; but there are influences, which his
reason can alone perceive, incitements to good thoughts
and worthy actions.

Flowers, in all ages, have been made the representa-
tives of innocence and purity. We decorate the bride,
and strew her path with flowers : we present the unde-
filed blossoms, as a similitude of her beauty and un-
tainted mind; trusting that her destiny through life will
be like theirs, grateful and pleasing to all. We scatter
them over the shell, the bier, and the earth, when we
consign our mortal blossoms to the dust, as emblems of
transient joy, fading pleasures, withered hopes ; yet rest
in sure and certain trust that each in due season will
be renewed again. All the writers of antiquity make
mention of their uses and application in heathen and
pagan ceremonies, whether of the temple, the banquet,
or the tomb — the rites, the pleasures, or the sorrows of
man; and in concord with the usages of the period,
the author of the “Book of Wisdom” says, “Let us
crown ourselves with rose-buds and flowers before they
wither.” All orders of creation, “ every form of creep-
ing things and abominable beasts,” have been, perhaps,
at one time or another, by some nation or sect, either
the objects of direct worship, or emblems of an invisible
sanctity ; but though individuals of the vegetable world
may have veiled the mysteries, and been rendered sacred
to particular deities and purposes, yet in very few in-
stances, we believe, were they made the representatives
of a deified object, or been bowed down to with divine
honors. The worship of the one true Being could never
have been polluted by any symbol suggested by the open
flowers and lily-work of the temple.

The love of flowers seems a naturally implanted pas-
sion, without any alloy or debasing object as a motive :
the cottage has its pink, its rose, its polyanthus ; the
villa, its geranium, its dahlia, and its clematis: we
cherish them in youth, we admire them in declining

LOVE OF FLOWERS.

55

days ; but, perhaps, it is the early flowers of spring that
always bring with them the greatest degree of pleasure,
and our affections seem immediately to expand at the
sight of the first opening blossom under the sunny wall,
or sheltered bank, however humble its race may be.
In the long and sombre months of winter our love of
nature, like the buds of vegetation, seems closed and
torpid ; but, like them, it unfolds and reanimates with
the opening year, and we welcome our long-lost asso-
ciates with a cordiality, that no other season can excite,
as friends in a foreign clime. The violet of autumn is
greeted with none of the love with which we hail the
violet of spring ; it is unseasonable, perhaps it brings
with it rather a thought of melancholy than of joy ; we
view it with curiosity, not affection : and thus the late
is not like the early rose. It is not intrinsic beauty or
splendor that so charms us, for the fair maids of spring
cannot compete with the grander matrons of the advanced
year; they would be unheeded, perhaps lost, in the rosy
bowers of summer and of autumn ; no, it is our first
meeting with a long-lost friend, the reviving glow of a
natural affection, that so warms us at this season : to
maturity they give pleasure, as a harbinger of the re-
newal of life, a signal of awakening nature, or of a
higher promise; to youth, they are expanding being,
opening years, hilarity and joy ; and the child, let loose
from the house, riots in the flowery mead, and is

“ Monarch of all he surveys.”

There is not a prettier emblem of spring than an in-
fant sporting in the sunny field, with its osier basket
wreathed with butter-cups, orchises, and daisies. With
summer flowers we seem to live as with our neighbors,
in harmony and good-will : but spring flowers are cher-
ished as private friendships.

The amusements and fancies of children, when con-
nected with flowers, are always pleasing, being gene-
rally the conceptions of innocent minds unbiassed by
artifice or pretence ; and their love of them seems to
spring from a genuine feeling and admiration, a kind
of sympathy with objects as fair as their own untainted

SCULPTURAL DECORATIONS,

56

minds : and I think that it is early flowers which const!*
tute their first natural playthings ; though summer pre-
sents a greater number and variety, they are not so
fondly selected. We have our daisies strung and wreathed
about our dress ; our coronals of orchises and prim-
roses ; our cowslip balls, &c. ; and one application of
flowers at this season I have noticed, which, though
perhaps it is local, yet it has a remarkably pretty effect,
forming for the time one of the gayest little shrubs that
can be seen. A small branch or long spray of the
white-thorn, with all its spines uninjured, is selected ;
and on these its alternate thorns, a white and a blue
violet, plucked from their stalks, are stuck upright in
succession, until the thorns are covered, and when
placed in a flower-pot of moss, has perfectly the appear-
ance of a beautiful vernal flowering dwarf shrub, and
as long as it remains fresh is an object of surprise and
delight.

No portion of creation has been resorted to by man-
kind with more success for the ornament and decoration
of their labors than the vegetable world. The rites,
emblems, and mysteries of religion ; national achieve-
ments, eccentric masks, and the capricious visions of
fancy, have all been wrought by the hand of the sculp-
tor, on the temple, the altar, or the tomb ; but plants,
their foliage, flowers, or fruits, as the most graceful,
varied, and pleasing objects that meet our view, have
been more universally the object of design, and have
supplied the most beautiful, and perhaps the earliest,
embellishments of art. The pomegranate, the almond,
and flowers, were selected, even in the wilderness, by
divine appointment, to give form to the sacred utensils;
the rewards of merit, the wreath of the victor, were ar-
boraceous; in later periods, the acanthus, the ivy, the
lotus, the vine, the palm, and the oak, flourished under
the chisel, or in the loom of the artist4; and in modem
days, the vegetable world affords the almost exclusive
decorations of ingenuity and art- The cultivation of
flowers is of all the amusements of mankind the one to
be selected and approved as the most innocent in itself,
and most perfectly devoid of injury or annoyance to

THE POPLAR.

57

others ; the employment is not only conducive to health
and peace of mind, but probably more good-will has
arisen, and friendships been founded by the intercourse
and communication connected with this pursuit than
from any other whatsoever : the pleasures, the ecstasies
of the horticulturist are harmless and pure ; a streak,
a tint, a shade, becomes his triumph, which though
often obtained by chance, are secured alone by morning
care, by evening caution, and the vigilance of days : an
employ which, in its various grades, excludes neither
the opulent nor the indigent, and teeming with bound-
less variety, affords an unceasing excitement to emula-
tion without contempt or ill-will.

The bouquet may be an exile now; but the revolutions
of fashion will surely return this beautiful ornament to
favor again. With us the nosegay yet retains its station
as a decoration to our Sunday beaux ; but at our spring
clubs and associations it becomes an essential, indis-
pensable appointment ; a little of the spirit of rivalry
seeming to animate our youths in the choice and mag-
nitude of this adornment. The superb spike of a Bromp-
ton, or a ten weeks’ stock, long cherished in some shel-
tered corner for the occasion, surrounded by all the
gaiety the garden can afford, till it presents a very bush
of flowers, forms the appendage of their bosoms, and,
with the gay knots in their hats, their best garments,
and the sprightly hilarity of their looks, constitutes a
pleasing village scene, aud gives an hour of unencum-
bered felicity to common man and rural life, not yet
disturbed by refinement and t^ste.

“ Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?”

And yet the shivering of the aspen, or poplar tree (popu-
lus tremula), in the breeze will give us the sensation
of coldness, and communicate an involuntary shudder-
ing. The construction of the foliage of this tree is pe-
culiarly adapted for motion : a broad leaf placed upon
a long footstalk, so flexile, as scarcely to be able to sup-
port the leaf in an upright posture : the upper part of
this stalk, on which the play or action seems mainly to

58

THE POPLAR.

depend, is contrary to the nature of footstalks in gene-
ral, being perfectly flattened, and, as an eminent botanist
and esteemed gentleman, Dr. I. Stokes, observes, is
placed at a right angle with the leaf, being thus
peculiarly fitted to receive the impulse of every wind
that blows. This stalk is furnished with three strong
nerves, placed parallel, and acting in unison with each
other ; but towards the base the stalk becomes round,
and then the nerves assume a triangular form, and con-
stitute three distinct supports and counteractions to each
other’s motions. I know no petiole with a similar con-
formation, or better calculated for the vibration of a
leaf. The leaf-stalks of plants are very curious construc-
tions ; and the nerves and vessels contained in them,
which are the vehicles of a large portion of that nour-
ishment which plants receive through their foliage from
the air, seem in general differently placed, and fitted
for variety of operation. The poplar is a tree that oc-
casions at times a great deal of trouble in our pasture
lands, by the tendency which it has to extend its roots,
and throw out suckers. Three or four of this species
in a hedge-row, bounding a meadow in my occupation,
oblige me every year that the field is mowed, by their
prolificacy, to send a man with his stock-ax to remove
their numerous offspringing; a mere temporary expedient,
tending rather to increase the complaint, as eradication
by trenching with the spade can alone effectually check
the encroachments of runners so tenacious of life, and
rapid in growth.

The dyer’s broom (genista tinctoria) abounds with
us, and becomes a perfect encumbrance in our clay-land
pastures. It is seldom eaten by cattle, except in cases
of great necessity, and remains untouched, if other food
be obtainable, giving a deceitful appearance of verdure
to a naked pasture. It yet retains a place in some of
our dispensatories ; but its medicinal virtues are prob-
ably never made trial of in modern practice, the lenient
assuasives of our forefathers seeming unequal to conten-
tion with the constitutions of these days. I know not
any use to which it is applicable but for the dyer. Our
poorer people a few years ago used to collect it by cart-

DYER’S BROOM.

59

loads, about the month of July ; and the season of “ wood-
waxen” was a little harvest to them : but it interfered
greatly with our haymaking. Women could gain each
about two shillings a day, clear of all expenses, by
gathering it ; but they complained that it was a very
hard and laborious occupation, the plant being drawn
up by the roots, which are strongly interwoven in the
soil. The dyer gave them eight-pence for a hundred
weight ; but I fear the amount was greatly enhanced
by the dishonest practice of watering the load, for the
specious purpose of keeping it green ; and the old wood-
waxers tell me, that, without the increase of weight
which the water gave the article, they should have had
but little reward for their labor. Greediness here, how-
ever, as in most other cases, ruined the trade, the plant
becoming so injured and stinted by repeated pullings,
as to be in these parts no longer an object worth seeking
for ; and our farmers rather discountenance the custom,
as the “ green-weed ” preserves and shelters at its roots
a considerable quantity of coarse herbage, which in the
winter and spring months is of great importance to the
young cattle browsing in the pastures. The use of this
dyer’s broom is to prepare woollen cloths for the recep-
tion of another color. It communicates to the article a
dull yellow, which will then, by being dipped in another
liquor or composition, according to the shade required,
receive a green hue. Vegetable filaments, cotton, flax,
&c., are very differently formed from those threads
afforded by animals, as silk and wool, and are differently
disposed to receive colors. The dye that will give a
fine color to the one, is perhaps rejected by the other;
and this plant is rarely or never used by the dyer for
cotton articles. That certain natural productions re-
ceive and retain, and others reject or soon part with
artificial colorings, are in some cases in consequence of
the nature of the substance, and in others by reason of
||the conformation of the fibre; but any examination of
this kind would only occasion a tedious discussion and
remain very obscure at last. We find certain effects
produced and reason upon them, but so small are the
parts operated upon, minute the agents, and equivocal

GREEN COLOR FOR FOLIAGE.

60

the connexion, that we cari do little more than theorize
upon the subject ; but perhaps I may slightly instance
the difference existing in the fibre of flax and silk.
The parts which compose the filaments of the former
are generally considered as being flat and flaky, where-
as those of the latter are tubular and round : this con-
formation renders silk so soft to the touch, and refract-
ing more perfectly the rays of light, occasions much of
its lustre, and the brilliancy of its hues. Perhaps we
have no art or trade less confined within the trammels
of formulae than that of the dyer ; every professor ap-
pearing to have his own methods of acquiring particular
tints and shades, guided often in his proportions by that
mutable sense, the taste, and regulating the temperature
of his compositions, not by the thermometer, but by the
feeling of the hand ; — and so capricious are these tests,
so different the sensations of the operator, or the va-
riable influences of solar light, that success on one day
does not insure a similar result on another.

Color is probably only reflected light ; but by what
means the absorption of oxygen increases the lustre is
not quite obvious — yet the power of the sun’s rays, in
augmenting the intensity of the hues of many things, is
well known : there is an admirable green color for foli-
age, to be obtained by the union of the light Prussian
blue with the dark gamboge ; but I could never acquire
this clear and lustrous, without compounding it in the
light of the sun. As the young artist will find this a
most useful pigment, I may in addition say, that a small
bit of the light Prussian, with three or four times the
quantity of gamboge, must be laid upon the pallet, or
in the saucer, and with a drop or two of water, only
enough to make it work easily, be most thoroughly
united and incorporated by the finger, with the sun
shining upon the mixture, adding more gamboge re-
peatedly during the operation, until the blue is subdued
and a clear green produced ; but if a tedious operation,
yet perseverance will ultimately produce a very brilliant
permanent green.

We have our walls in many places here decorated
with most of the varieties of the great snapdragon (an-

PECULIARITIES OF THE SNAPDRAGON. 61

tirrhinum majus); the white, the pink, and the com-
mon : and that beautiful deviation, with a white tube
and crimson termination, is slowly wandering from the
garden, and mixing with its congeners. It has not,
perhaps, been generally observed, that the flowers of
this plant, “ bull-dogs,” as the boys call them, are per-
fect insect traps; multitudes of small creatures seek
an entrance into the corolla through the closed lips,
which upon a slight pressure yield a passage, attracted
by the sweet liquor that is found at the base of the ger-
men ; but when so admitted, there is no return, the lips
are closed, and all advance to them is impeded by a
dense thicket of woolly matter, which invests the mouth
of the lower jaw—

“ Smooth lies the road to Pluto’s gloomy shade ;

But ’t is a long, unconquerable pain.

To climb to these ethereal realms again.”

But this snapdragon is more merciful than most of our
insect traps. The creature receives no injury when in
confinement ; but, having consumed the nectareous li-
quor, and finding no egress, breaks from its dungeon by
gnawing a hole at the base of the tube, and returns to
liberty and light. The extraordinary manner in which
the corolla of this plant is formed, the elastic force with
which the lower limb closes and fits upon the projection
of the upper, manifest the obvious design in the great
Architect, “whose hands bended the rainbow;” and
the insects are probably the destined agents whereby
the germen is impregnated, for as soon as this is effect-
ed, the limbs become flaccid, lose their elasticity, are
no longer a place of confinement, but open for the es-
cape of any thing that might have entered. The little
black pismire is a common plunderer of this honey.

It is a perplexing matter to reconcile our feelings to
the rigor, and our reason to the necessity, of some
plants being made the instrument of destruction to the
insect world. Of British plants we have only a few so
constructed, which, having clammy joints and calyxes,
entangle them to death. The sun-dew (droserae) destroys
in a different manner, yet kills them without torture.

F

THE DOGSBANE.

62

But we have one plant in our gardens, a native of North
America, than which none can be more cruelly destruc-
tive of animal life, the dogsbane (apocynum androsae-
mifolium), which is generally conducive to the death
of every fly that settles upon it. Allured by the honey
on the nectary of the expanded blossom, the instant the
trunk is protruded to feed on it, the filaments close,
and, catching the fly by the extremity of its proboscis,
detain the poor prisoner writhing in protracted struggles
till released by death, a death apparently occasioned by
exhaustion alone; the filaments then relax, and the
body falls to the ground. The plant will at times be
dusky from the numbers of imprisoned wretches. This
elastic action of the filaments may be conducive to the
fertilizing of Ahe seed by scattering the pollen from the
anthers, as is the case with the berberry ; but we are not
sensible that the destruction of the creatures which
excite the action is in any way essential to the wants or
perfection of the plant, and our ignorance favors the
idea of a wanton cruelty in the herb ; but how little of
the causes and motives of action of created things do
we know ! and it must be unlimitable arrogance alone
that could question the wisdom of the mechanism of
him “ that judgeth rightly ; ” the operations of a simple
plant confound and humble us, and, like the hand-writing
on the wall, though seen by many, can be explained
but by ONE.

The different manner in which vegetables exert their
organic powers to effect the destruction of insects, is
not perhaps unworthy of a brief notice ; some, as those
above mentioned, accomplish it by means of elastic or
irritable actions, adhesive substances, and so forth ; but
we have another plant in our green-houses, the glaucous
birthwort (aristol. glauca), that effects these purposes
without any of these means, but principally by confor-
mation. The whole internal surface of the tubular
flower is beset with minute strong spines, pointing '
downwards ; these present no impediment to the de-
scent of the animal which may seek for the sweet liquor
lodged upon the nectarium at the base of the blossom,
nor is there any obstruction provided for its return by

THE DOGSBANE.

63

means of valves or contractions, the tube remaining
open ; but the creature cannot crawl up by reason of
the inverted spines, and to prevent its escape by flying
up the tube, the flower makes an extraordinary curve,
bending up like a horn, so that any winged creature
must be beaten back by striking against the roof of this
neck as often as it attempts to mount, and falling back
to the bulbous prison at the base of the flower, dies by
confinement and starvation, and there we find them : a
certain number of these perishing, the blossom fades
and drops ofl*.

All the varieties of this snapdragon have the power
of maintaining a state of vegetation in great droughts,
when most other plants yield to the influence of the
weather; and it is the more remarkable in these plants,
as the places in which they chiefly delight to vegetate
are particularly exposed to the influence of the sun. In
that hot dry summer of 1825, when vegetation was in
general burned up and withered away, yet did this plant
continue to exist on parched walls, and draw nutriment
from sources apparently unable to afford it; not in full
vigor certainly, but in a state of verdure beyond any
of its associates. The common burnet (poterium san-
guisorba) of our pastures, in a remarkable degree, like-
wise possesses this faculty of preserving its verdure,
and flourishing amid surrounding aridity and exhaustion.
It is probable that these plants, and some others, have
the power of imbibing that insensible moisture, which
arises from the earth even in the driest weather, or from
the air which passes over them. The immense evapora-
tion proceeding from the earth, even in the hottest sea-
son, supplies the air constantly with moisture ; and as
every square foot of this element can sustain eleven
grains of water, an abundant provision is made for every
demand. We can do little more than note these facts :
to attempt to reason upon the causes, why particular
plants are endowed with peculiar faculties, would be
mere idleness; yet, in remarking this, we cannot pass
over the conviction, that the continual escape of mois-
ture from one body, and its imbibition by another, this
unremitting motion and circulation of matter, are parts

THE IVY.

64

of that wonderful ordination, whereby the beneficence
and wisdom of Providence are manifested : without the
agency of evaporation, not dwelling on the infinitude
of effects and results, no vegetation could exist, no ani-
mal life continue.

The ivy (hedera helix), the dark-looking ivy, almost
covers with its thick foliage the pollards in our hedge-
rows ; and, creeping up the sides of the old barn, and
chimney of the cottage, nearly hides them from our
sight ; affording a sheltered roosting-place to many poor
birds, and is almost their only refuge in the cold season
of the year. But the ivy can boast of much more ex-
tensive service to the poor wayfaring beings of creation,
than the merely affording them a covering from the
winds of winter. Those two extreme quarters of our
year, autumn and spring, yield to most animals but a
very slender and precarious supply of food ; but the ivy
in those periods saves many from want and death ; and
the peculiar situations, in which it prefers to flourish,
are essential to the preservation of this supply, as in
less sheltered ones it would be destroyed. In the month
of October the ivy blooms in profusion, and spreading
over the warm side of some neglected wall, or the sunny
bark of the broad ash on the bank, its flowers become
a universal banquet to the insect race. The great
black fly (musca grossa), and its numerous tribe, with
multitudes of small winged creatures, resort to them ;
and there we see those beautiful animals, the latest birth
of the year, the admiral (vanessa atalanta) and peacock
(vanessa 16) butterflies, hanging with expanded wings
like open flowers themselves, enjoying the sunny gleam,
and feeding on the sweet liquor that distils from the
nectary of this plant. As this honey is produced in
succession by the early or later expansion of the bud,
it yields a constant supply of food, till the frosts of No-
vember destroy the insects, or drive them to their win-
ter retreats. Spring arrives ; and in the bitter months
of March, April, and even May, at times, when the
wild products of the field are nearly consumed, the ivy
ripens its berries, and then almost entirely constitutes
the food of the missel thrush, wood-pigeon, and some

IVIED RUIN8.

65

other birds ; and now these shy and wary birds, that
commonly avoid the haunts of man, constrained by
hunger, will approach our dwellings, to feed upon the
ripe berries of the ivy. Now too the blackbird and
the thrush resort to its cover, to conceal their nests.
These early-building birds find little foliage at this
period sufficient to hide their habitations ; and did not
the ivy lend its aid to preserve them, and no great
number are preserved, perhaps few nests would be hid-
den from the young eyes that seek them. The early
expansion of the catkins of the sallow (salix caprea),
and others of the willow tribe, whence the bee extracts
its first food, and the late blooming of this ivy, are in-
dispensable provisions for the existence of many of the
insect race ; the “ young raven does not cry in vain,”
nor is any thing abandoned by that power which called
it into being.

We all seem to love the ivy,

“ The wanton ivy wreath’d in amorous twines,”

more than any other uncultured evergreen that we pos-
sess ; yet it is difficult satisfactorily to answer why we
have this regard for it. As a lover of the lone, the ivy-
mantled ruin, I have often questioned with myself the
cause and basis of my regard for that, which was but a
fragment of what might have been formerly splendid,
and intrinsically possessed but little to engage admira-
tion, yet wreathed in the verdure of the ivy, was ad-
mired ; but was never satisfied, perhaps unwilling to
admit the answer that my mind seemed to give. The
ivy is a dependent plant, and delights in waste and ruin.
We do not often tolerate its growth when the building
is in repair and perfect ; but, if time dilapidate the edi-
fice, the ivy takes possession cf the fragment, and we
call it beautiful; it adorns the castle, but is an indis-
pensable requisite to the remains of the monastic pile.
There is an abbey in the North of England, which has
been venerated by all its late possessors. It is trimmed,
made neat, and looks, perhaps, much as it did formerly,
except being in ruins. The situation is exquisite, the
remains are splendid, yet with many it fails to excite

F 2

IVIED RUINS,

66

such interest as it should do. It is a hare reality. A
ruin in the West of England once interested me greatly.
The design of revisiting and drawing it was expressed
at the time. A few days only elapsed ; but the inhab-
itant of a neighboring cottage had most kindly labored
hard in the interval, and pulled down “ all the nasty
ivy, that the gentleman might see the ruin.” He did
see it, but every charm had departed. These two in-
stances, from many that might be advanced, manifest
that ivy most frequently gives to these ancient edifices
the idea of beauty, and contributes chiefly to influence
our feelings when viewing them. The ruins of a for-
tress, or warlike tower, may often historically interest
us from the renown of its founder or its possessor, some
scene transacted, some villain punished, hero triumphant,
or cause promoted, to which we wished success : but
the quiet, secluded, monastic cell, or chapel, has no tale
to tell ; history hardly stays to note even its founder’s
name ; and all the rest is doubt and darkness ; yet,
shrouded in its ivied folds, we reverence the remains,
we call it picturesque, we draw, we engrave, we litho-
graph the ruin. We do not regard this ivy as a relic
of ancient days ; as having shadowed the religious re-
cluse, and with it often, doubtless, piety and faith ; for
it did not hang around the building in old time, but is
comparatively a modern upstart, a sharer of monastic
spoils, a usurper of that which has been abandoned by
another. The tendril pendent from the orient window,
lightly defined in the ray which it excludes, twining
with graceful ease round some slender shaft, or woven
amid the tracery of the florid arch, is elegantly orna-
mental, and gives embellishment to beauty ; but the
main body of the ivy is dark, sombre, massy ; yet, strip
it from the pile, and we call it sacrilege, the interest of
the whole is at an end, the effect ceases, —

“One moment seen, then lost for ever.”

Yet what did the ivy effect? what has departed' with it?
This evanescent charm perhaps consists in the obscu-
rity, in the sobriety of light it occasioned, in hiding the

TH£ FOXGLOVE. 67

bare reality, and giving to fancy and imagination room
to expand, a plaything to amuse them.

We still retain the name of this plant as given by
Pliny, though we know no reason why it was so called ;
but the word “ helix,” winding about, or twisting, is
sufficiently apposite.

The foxglove (digitalis purpurea) is found with us in
one or two places only, rather existing than flourishing,
manifesting, like many other plants, a marked partiality
to particular soils. It produces an abundance of seed,
yet seems to wander little from the station its progeni-
tors had fixed on, as if that alone was congenial to its
habits ; but with us the soil varies greatly. In the West
of England, it thrives and increases with particular
luxuriance ; but many counties may be searched in vain
for a single specimen. It seems to prefer a sandy,
gravelly, or loose drained soil ; not I think vegetating
in strong retentive earths. We have few indigenous
plants, not one, perhaps, which we have so often sum-
moned to aid us in our distresses as the foxglove : no
plant, not even the colchicum, has been more the object
of our fears, our hopes, our trust, and disappointment,
than this : we have been grateful for the relief it has
afforded, and we have mourned the insufficiency of its
powers

“ Thy last, sole aid (which art can give)

The wo- worn parent seeks, and, hoping, clings
In tearless wretchedness to thee ; watches with
Anxious heart thy subtle progress through the
Day, and of thee fitful dreams through all the
Night — -

spare, if thou

Canst, his hopeless grief; save worth, save beauty,

From an early grave.”

As a mere flower, the digitalis is a very handsome
plant ; and could we rely upon its yielding the virtues
it is considered to possess, or could we regulate or con-
trol its influence, it would exist unrivalled for beauty
and worth amidst our island plants. Why such a name
as “ foxesgloves,” was bestowed upon this plant it is
difficult to say, perhaps from the bare resemblance to

68

NAMES GIVEN OF OLD TO PLANTS.

finger-cases presented by its flowers : but I am not one
of those who cavil or jeer at the common, or “ vulgar
names,” as we are in the habit of denominating the un-
scientific appellations of plants ; for we must remember,
that the culling of herbs and simples, and compounding
preparations from them, to relieve the sufferings of na-
ture, were the first rudiments of all our knowledge, the
most grateful exertion of human talent, and, after food
and clothing, the most necessary objects of life. In
ages of simplicity, when every man was the usual dis-
penser of good or bad, benefit or injury, to his house-
hold or his cattle — ere the veterinary art was known, or
the drugs of other regions introduced, necessity looked
up to the products of our own clime, and the real or
fanciful virtues of them were called to the trial, and
manifests the reasonableness of bestowing upon plants
and herbs such names as might immediately indicate
their several uses, or fitness for application ; when dis-
tinctive characters, had they been given, would have
been little attended to ; and hence, the numbers found
favorable to the cure of particular complaints, the ail-
ments of domestic creatures, or deemed injurious to
them. Modern science may wrap up the meaning of
its epithets in Greek and Latin terms; but in very
many cases they are the mere translations of these de-
spised, “ old, vulgar names.” What pleasure it must
have afforded the poor sufferer in body or in limb, —
what confidence he must have felt for relief, when he
knew that the good neighbor who came to bathe his
wounds, or assuage his inward torments, brought with
him such things as “ all-heal, break-stone, bruise-vrort,
gout-weed, fever-few” (fugio), and twenty other such
comfortable mitigators of his afflictions ; why, their
very names would almost charm away the sense of pain !
The modern recipe contains no such terms of comfort-
able assurance : its meanings are all dark to the suf-
ferer ; its influence unknown. And then the good her-
balist of old professed to have plants which were “ all-
good :” they could assuage anger by their “ loosestrife;”
they had “ honesty, truelove, and heartsease.” The cay-
ennes, the soys, the ketchups, and extratropical condi-

NAMES GIVEN OF OLD TO PLANTS.

69

jments of these days, were not required, when the next
thicket would produce “ poor man’s pepper, sauce alone,
and hedge-mustard;” and the woods and wilds around,
when they yielded such delicate viands as “fat-hen,

| lambs-quarters, way-bread, butter and eggs, with codlins
and cream,” afforded no despicable bill of fare. No
one ever yet thought of accusing our old simplers of
the vice of avarice, or love of lucre ; yet their “ thrift”
is always to be seen : we have their humble “ penny-
wort, herb two-pence, moneywort, silverweed, and gold.”
We may smile, perhaps, at the cognomens, or the com-
memorations of friendships, or of worth, recorded by
the old simplers, at their herbs, “ Bennet, Robert, Chris-
topher, Gerard, or Basil ;” but do the names so bestowed
by modern science read better, or sound better? it
has “ Lightfootia, Lapeyrousia, Hedwigia, Schkuhria,
Scheuchzeria ; ” and surely we may admit, in common
benevolence, such partialities as “ good King Henry,
sweet William, sweet Marjory, sweet Cicely, Lettuce,
Mary Gold, and Rose.” There are epithets, however,
so very extraordinary, that we must consider them as
mere perversions, or at least incapable of explanation
at this period. The terms of modern science waver
daily ; names undergo an annual change, fade with the
leaf, and give place to others ; but the ancient terms,
which some may ridicule, have remained for centuries,

' and will yet remain, till nature is swallowed up by art.
No : let our ancient herbalists, “ a grave and whiskered
race,” retain the honors due to their labors, which were
most needful and important ones at those periods : by
them were many of the casualties and sufferings of man
and beast relieved ; and by aid of perseverance, better
constitutions to act upon, and faith to operate, than we
possess, they probably effected cures, which we moderns
should fail to accomplish if attempted.

Upon an old bank, tangled with bushes .and rubbish,
we find in abundance that very early translated, and
perfectly domesticated flower, the cottage snowdrop
(galanthus nivalis) ; a plant that is undoubtedly a native
of our island, for I have seen it in situations where na-
ture only could introduce it, where it was never planted

THE SNOWDROP.

70

by the hand of man, or strayed from any neighboring
cultivation. Yet in most places where we find this flower,
it is of manifest or suspicious origin ; and with us it
partakes of this latter character, though no remains of
any ancient dwelling are observable near it. The dam-
ask rose, the daffodil, or the stock of an old bullace
plum, will long remain, and point out where once a
cottage existed ; but all these, and most other tokens,
in time waste away and decay ; while the snowdrop will
remain, increase, and become the only memorial of man
and his labors. Many flowers present strong distinctive
characters, or will, at least often do, excite in us vari-
able feelings : the primrose, and the daisy, if not intrin-
sically gay, call forth cheerful and pleasing sensations ;
and the aspect or glance of some others will awaken
different affections. The snowdrop is a melancholy flower.
The season in which the “fair maids of February”
come out, is the most dreary and desolate of our year :
they peep through the snow that often surrounds them,
shivering and cheerless : they convey no idea of reviv-
ing nature, and are scarcely the harbingers of milder
days, but rather the emblem of sleety storms, and icy
gales, (snowdrop weather), and wrap their petals round
the infant germ, fearing to admit the very air that blows;
and, when found beyond the verge of cultivation, they
most generally remind us of some deserted dwelling, a
family gone, a hearth that smokes no more. A lover of
cold, it maintains the beautiful ovate form of its flower
only in a low temperature ; warmth expanding the petals,
vitiating its grace, and destroying its character. It
seems to preserve its native purity free from every con-
tamination ; it will become double, but never wanders
into varieties, is never streaked or tinged with the hues
of other flowers.

One of our pasture grasses is particularly affected by
dry weather. Several are injured frequently by drought
acting upon the stalk, not molesting the root, but with-
ering the succulent base of the straw, which arises from
the upper joint ; in consequence of which, the panicle,
and connecting straw, dry away, while the foliage and
lower leaves remain uninjured. None are so obnoxious

YELLOW OAT-GRASS — VERVAIN.

71

to this injury as the yellow oat-grass (avena flavescens),
land in some seasons almost the whole of its panicles
will be withered in a field of surrounding verdure.
Pastures that are grazed must from circumstances be
drier than those covered with herbage fit for the scythe ;
j yet, from some unknown cause, this oat-grass seems
less injured in this respect in grazing grounds, than in
those where the herbage is reserved for mowing,
j The plain, simple, unadorned vervain (verbena offi-
cinalis) is one of our most common, and decidedly
waste-loving plants. Disinclined to all cultured places,
it fixes its residence by way-sides, and old stone quarries,
thriving under the feet of every passing creature. The
celebrity that this plant obtained in very remote times,
without its possessing one apparent quality, or present-
ing by its manner of growth, or form, any mysterious
character to arrest the attention, or excite imagination,
is very extraordinary, and perhaps unaccountable : most
nations venerated, esteemed, and used it; the ancients
had their Verbenalia, at which period the temples and
frequented places were strewed and sanctified with ver-

I vain ; the beasts for sacrifice, and the altars, were ver-
Ijbenated, the one filleted, the other strewed, with the

sacred herb; no incantation or lustration was perfect
without the aid of this plant. That mistletoe should
j have excited attention in days of darkness and igno-
rance, is not a subject of surprise, from the extraordi-
nary and obscure manner of its growth and propagation,
and the season of the year in which it flourishes ; for

II even the great lord Bacon ridicules the idea of its being
I propagated by the operations of a bird as an “idle tra-
dition,” saying, that the sap which produces this plant
is such as the “ tree doth excerne and cannot assimilate.”

I: These circumstances, and its great dissimilarity from
the plant on which it vegetates, all combine to render
it a subject of superstitious wonder: but that a lowly,
ineffective herb like our vervain should have stimulated
| the imaginations of the priests of Rome, of Gaul, and
| of Greece, the magi of India, and the Druids of Britain,
; is passing comprehension ; and, as Pennant observes,
“ so general a consent proves that the custom arose be-

-

72 SUPPOSED QUALITIES OF VERVAIN.

fore the different nations had lost all communication
with each other.” We might with some appearance of
reason, perhaps, name the Druids of Gaul as the point,
whence certain mysteries and observances were con-
veyed to the priesthood of various nations ; but it would
be difficult to assign a motive for their fixing upon such
plants as vervain, and some others, to give efficacy to
their ceremonies and rites. In some of the Welsh coun-
ties, vervain is known by the name of “ Ilyssiaur hudol,”
the enchanter’s plant. It seems to have had ascribed to
it the power of curing the bites of all rabid animals,
arresting the progress of the venom of serpents, recon-
ciling antipathies, conciliating friendships, &c. Gerard,
after detailing some of its virtues from Pliny, observes,
that “ many odde old wives’ fables are written of ver-
vaine tending to witchcraft and sorcerie, which you may
read elsewhere, for I am not willing to trouble you with
reporting such trifles as honest ears abhorre to hear.”
To us moderns its real virtues are unknown ; regular
practice does not allow that it possesses any medicinal
efficacy, and its fanciful peculiarities are in no repute ;
yet it seems to hanker after its lost fame, and lingers
around the dwellings of man ; for though not solely
found about our habitations, as Miller thought, yet
generally, when perceived, it is near some inhabited
or ruined residence, not as a stray from cultivation, but
from preference. Our village doctresses, an almost ex-
tinct race of useful, valuable women, the consolers, the
comforters, and often mitigators of the ailments of
the poor, still make use of vervain tea as a strengthened
and the dried powder of its leaves as a vermifuge ; but
probably in another generation all the venerated virtues
of the vervain will be consigned to oblivion. This plant
seems to be the native growth of many districts in
Europe, Asia, and Africa.

The dyers’ weed, yellow weed, weld, or wold (reseda
luteola), thrives in all our abandoned stone quarries,
upon the rejected rubbish of the lime-kiln, and waste
places of the roads, apparently a perfectly indigenous
plant. Unmindful of frost, or of drought, it preserves a
degree of verdure, when nearly all other vegetation is

THE DYERS’ WEED.

73

seared up by these extremes in exposed situations. It
was, and is yet, I believe, cultivated in England for the
use of the dyer. We import it, however, into Bristol
from France ; and it sells in that city for ten shillings
per cwt. in a dry state. It gives a fine, permanent, yel-
low color to cottons, silks, and woollens, in a variety of
shades, by the aid of alum, &c. A blue tincture changes
these to as fine a green. Injury has certainly been oc-
casioned by writers on agricultural affairs recommend-
ing, without due inquiry, the culture of this or that
crop ; and I would not incur a censure that I blame in
another; yet I cannot but suggest the possible profit
that might arise from the culture of this plant. If for-
eigners derive sufficient encouragement to import it,
notwithstanding the charges of freight, port duties, and
various consequent expenses, why can it not be grown
with us, and afford superior remuneration, not having
such deductions to diminish the profits ? The culture
of it seems very simple, the manner of conducting the
crop, and harvesting the product, attended with little
trouble or risk. Marshal # prefers a good soil ; others
again say, that it becomes stalky in a rich soil. With
us it grows luxuriantly, three or four feet high, on a
thin, stony, undressed soil, apparently the very station
it prefers ; and we have about us much land of this kind,
not intrinsically worth ten shillings an acre. It might
be rash to predict the amount of a crop in such soils,
but a ton to an acre is said to be but a small allowance ;
yet the produce of only this quantity, which would pro-
cure in the market a return of 10Z. without any expen-
diture for manure, no more manual labor after the seed
j is sown, for nine months, than three thinnings, and
cleanings with the hoe, and the crop harvested within
the year, would be no trifling profit, and may be deserv-
ing of some consideration. f The bark, the wood, the
j flower, the leaves of many of our native trees and plants
j afford a yellow dye ; we have no color so easily pro-
duced as this is ; and it is equally remarkable, that,

* Rural Economy of Norfolk,
t Article Reseda, in Encyclopaedia Britannica.

G

PREVALENCE OF YELLOW IN PLANTS.

74

amidst all the varied hues of spring, yellow is the most
predominant in our wild and cultured plants. The prim-
rose, cowslip, pile wort, globe-flower, butter-cup, cher-
lock, crocus, all the cabbage tribe, the dandelions, ap-
pear in this dress^ The very first butterfly, that will

“ aloft repair,

And sport, and flutter in the fields of air,”

is the sulphur butterfly (gonepteryx rhamni), which in
the bright sunny mornings of March we so often see
under the warm hedge, or by the side of some sheltered
copse, undulating, and vibrating like the petal of a
primrose in the breeze. The blossoms of many of our
plants afford for the decoration of the fair a vast variety
of colors and intermediate tints ; but they are all of
them, or nearly so, inconstant or fugitive before the
light of the sun, or mutable in the dampness of the air,
except those obtained from yellow flowers : circumstan-
ces may vary the shade, but yet it is mostly permanent.
Yellow is again the livery of autumn, in all the shades
of ochre and of orange ; the “ sere and yellow leaf” be-
comes the general cast of the season, the sober brown
comes next, and then decay.

Many impressions commonly fade away and become
effaced as other objects create fresh sensations ; but the
love of nature, where the regard has been a settled
principle, is more permanent, and influences the feelings
as long as the occupations of life preserve any interest
in our minds. As a child, I viewed the wild field flow-
ers and cropped them with delight ; as a young botanist,
culled with rapture the various species, returning often
and again to my almost exhaustless treasure in the
copse ; and even now, in the “ sere and yellow leaf,”
when, in some mild vernal evening, I stroll through the
grove, see the same floral splendor which year after
year has been spread before me, I mark it with admira-
tion and surprise, find it enchanting still, and fancy the
present loveliness superior to all that has been before.
There we see that beautiful little brilliant of the earth,
like the name it bears (day’s-eye), cheerful and pleasing
to all. The exquisite chasteness of mien, and form of

THE DANDELION.

75

J

I this flower, the contrast of its colors, and simplicity of
attitude which it displays when springing from out its
jj grassy tuft, can hardly be surpassed by any from another
region. By its side peeps out the bright gleeful blue
j eyes of the little germander speedwell, in joyful gaiety
- — a lowly domestic plant that loves and seeks alliance
with its kind, and in small family associations, by united
I splendor, decorates the foliage around. And there we
find the stitch-wort, mingling her snowy bloom immac-
ulately pure, with pallid green : too delicate to vegetate
I alone, it seeks the shelter of the hedge or copse, trem-
i bles when the breeze goes by, and seems an emblem
|J of innocence and grace. And there the bright-flowered
lotus with its pea-like bloom, in social union glows as
burnished gold, animating and gilding with its lustre
j| all the tribes that spring near it ; and fifty others, too,
we note, which, though common and disregarded by
reason of our familiarity with them, or expelled from
favor by the novelty of far-fetched fair ones, deserve
| more attention than we are disposed to afford them,
j There are few plants which we look upon with more
j perfect contempt than that common product of every
soil, the ‘ dandelion.’ Every child knows it, and the
j little village groups which perambulate the hedges for
the first offspring of the year, amuse themselves by
hanging circlets of its stalks linked like a chain round
their necks: yet if we examine this in all the stages of
its growth, we shall pronounce it a beautiful production ;
! and its blossom, though often a solitary one, is perhaps
the very first that enlivens the sunny bank of the hedge
in the opening year, peeping out from withered leaves,
dry stalks, and desolation, as a herald, telling us that
nature is not dead, but reposing, ^nd will awaken to life
again. And some of us* perhaps, can remember the
pleasure it afforded us in early days, when we first
noticed its golden blossoms under the southern shelter
of the cottage hedge, thinking that the ‘winter was
past,’ and that ‘ the time of the singing of birds was
come;’ and yet, possibly, when seen, it may renew
some of that childish delight, though the fervor of ex-
pectation is cooled by experience and time. The form

THE DANDELION.

76f

of this flower, with its ligulate petals many times doubled
is elegant and perfect ; the brightness and liveliness of
the yellow, like the warm rays of an evening sun, are
not exceeded in any blossom, native or foreign, that I
know of ; and this, having faded away, is succeeded by
a head of down, which loosened from its receptacle, and
floating in the breeze, comes sailing calmly along before
us, freighted with a seed at its base ; but so accurately
adjusted is its buoyant power to the burden it bears,
that steadily passing on its way, it rests at last in some
cleft or cranny in the earth, preparatory to its period
of germination, appearing more like a flight of animated
creatures than the seed of a plant. This is a very
beautiful appointment ! but so common an event as
hardly to be noticed by us ; yet it accomplishes ef-
fectually the designs of nature, and plants the species
at distances and in places that no other contrivance
could so easily and fitly effect. The seeds, it is true,
might have fallen and germinated around the parent
plant, but this was not the purpose of nature ; yet may
seem to some a very unnecessary contrivance for the
propagation of a common dandelion, whose benefits to
mankind as a medicine, though retained in our phar-
macopoeias, and occasionally resorted to, seem of no
great importance. Nor are we sensible that its virtues
are essential to any portion of the creation ; but this
very circumstance should abate our pride, our assumed
pretensions of knowledge, as we may be assured that
its existence, though hidden from us, is required in the
great scheme of nature, or such elaborate and sufficient
contrivances for its continuation and increase would
never have been called into action by Nature, who is so
remarkably simple in all her actions, economical in her
ways, and frugal of her means.

Some very extraordinary vegetable productions are
now on the table before me. Though not gathered in
this neighborhood, I am induced to give them a place
with our notables, because I believe that they have not
been noticed, and afford a strong example of the per-
severing endeavors that plants exert at times to main-
tain existence. One of these is the tufted head and

THE COMMON BRAMBLES.

77

entire roots of a grass, gathered from a down fed by
sheep from time immemorial. It is probably that of
the hard fescue (festuca duriuscula), which, having
been constantly eaten down by cattle, has never thrown
up flowering stems, giving out only radical leaves.
These appear to have been cropped short, as soon as
they have sprung up, the less succulent and strawy por-
tions only being left, like a ball upon the surface, as a
bush constantly clipped by the gardener’s shears. The
root appears to have annually increased, though the
upper parts it was destined to nourish have been de-
stroyed, until it became a lock of closely compacted
fibres, like a tuft of hair, six or eight inches in length.
Furze bushes, growing upon many downs in V/ales,
Devon, and Cornwall, assume commonly the appearance
of large, green, dense balls, every tender leaf being
constantly shorn away by the sheep and rabbits that
frequent those places, and present, upon a larger scale,
the very appearance of these grass-balls. Our speci-
mens are rather local than general, and were the pro-
duce of the Malvern hills.

The common brambles (rubus caesius and fruticosus)
may almost be considered as evergreens. Hedgers to
be sure they are : but we have few, perhaps no other
shrubby plant, naturally deciduous, excepting the privet,
that will retain its verdure through the year, preserving,
by a peculiar construction of its vessels, a portion of
foliage unseared by frosts, and contending with gales
that destroy and strip awTay all the honors of its neigh-
bors. This circumstance enables us to observe a curi-
ous, strongly defined line upon the leaves, like a glossy
whitish film, meandering over the surface, becoming
progressively larger, with a fine intestinal-like line
running through the centre. What occasioned this
sinuous path long puzzled me satisfactorily to ascertain,
considering it entirely of vegetable origin ; and all the
various polymorphous parasitics were successively
thought of. At one time I deemed it like puccinia,
which vegetates beneath the cuticle of leaves : but this
was rejected ; and probably I might long have wandered
in error, had not the Rev. Mr. Kirby dissipated all my

G 2

78

LEAVES OF BRAMBLE.

conjectures by informing me that it was the pathway of
a small caterpillar. There are several species of them,
which are placed by Reaumur in a tribe called “ mi-
ll euses,” all of which live upon the parenchyma, or
pulpy substance found between the cuticles or skins of
leaves, gradually increasing in size until matured for
transformation to the chrysalis, when they eat their way
through the leaf, ultimately becoming moths, remarka-
ble for the brilliant metallic lustre of their wings, the
fine central line being the rejectments of the creature
in the infant stages of its growth. Though several
plants afford sustenance to these races, we have none
on which this tortuous path is more strongly defined
than the leaves of brambles, and the ever-blowing rose.
Notices of such incidents may perhaps be considered
as too trifling to record ; but the naturalist, from the
habit of observing, sees many things not obvious to all
persons : his province is to investigate all the operations
of nature, and if he record them truly, he has done his
duty ; prolix and dull as his remarks will be to some,
yet to another they may afford information, or tend to
elucidate a conjecture. The bramble is a sadly repro-
bated plant, and I cannot say much in its favor as an
independent individual, nor would I introduce it, to in-
commode by its society a thriving mound of white-thorn
or of crab : but it generally introduces itself, arid will
flourish greatly., where other and better fences languish,
and then, by intertwining its long flexile runners with
the weakly products of the hedge-row, will compose a
guard, where without it we could with difficulty have
raised one. It will intrude, however, into many places
where it is not required, originating probably from the
rejectments of birds, and become a very unwelcome
and tenacious inhabitant. Its long tendrils are much
used by us as binders for thatching, being pegged down
to prevent the straw coverings of ricks and such things
being carried away by the winds, and we are satisfied
with its performances. By the assistance of the bramble
also, the new-placed turf is secured on the graves of
our poorer neighbors, until it unites and forms a uniform
sod ; and during this service it will occasionally root

THE MAPLE.

79

itself, and become an inhabitant not easily ejected from
our church-yards. Badgers are said to feed much upon
the fruit of the bramble. They are certainly very fat
and fleshy about the time that the blackberry is ripe ;
but it is probable that the acorns and crabs, which it
finds at the same season, contribute most to its nourish-
ment.

The maple (acer campestre) is found growing in all
our fences, generally reduced by the hedger’s bill to
serve the same humble purposes as the thorns and sloes
associated with it. Sometimes, however it is permitted
to assume the rank of a tree, when, if not possessing
dignity, it is certainly beautiful, and becomes an orna-
ment in the hedge-row. It is the earliest sylvan beau
that is weary of its summer suit; first shifting its dress
to ochery shades, then trying a deeper tint, and lastly
assuming an orange vest; thus setting a fashion that
ere long becomes the garb of all except the rustic
oak, which looks regardlessly at the beau, and keeps its
verdant robe unchanged. Soon tired of this, the maple
takes a pattern from his sober neighbor ash, throws its
gaudy trim away, and patiently awaits with all his peers
the next new change. In spring the woodbine wreathes
its knots of green around the rugged limbs of the ma-
ple ; the rose beneath puts on its emerald gems, and
then our gallant sir will wear such colors too, fluttering
through all its summer’s day. When first the maple
begins to autumnize the grove, the extremities of the
boughs alone change their color, but all the internal
and more sheltered parts still retain their verdure, which
gives to the tree the effect of a great depth of shade,
and displays advantageously the light, lively coloring
of the sprays. We find the maple useful in our hedges,
not from the opposition it affords, but by reason of its
very quick growth from the stool after it has been cut,
whence it makes a fence in a shorter time than most of
its companions ; and when firewood is an object, it soon
becomes sufficiently large for this purpose. The singular
ruggedness of the branches and shoots when they have
attained a year’s growth, and the depth of the furrows,
give it a strongly marked character among our shrubs.

80

THE MAPLE.

The under side of the leaves in autumn, when they
become yellow, and dashed here and there with a few
specks of red and brown, appear, when magnified, like
a very beautiful and perfect mosaic pavement, with all
its tesserae arranged and fitted. If one of these rugged
young shoots be cut through horizontally with a sharp
knife, its cork-like bark presents the figure of a star
with five or more rays, sometimes irregularly, but gene-
rally exactly defined. A thin slice from the surface is a
beautiful and curious object in the microscope, exhibit-
ing the different channels, and variously formed tubes,
through which the sap flows, and the air circulates for
the supply of all the diversified requirements of the
plant ; and it is good and delightful to contemplate the
wonderful mechanism that has been devised by the
Almighty Architect, for the sustenance and particular
necessities of the simple maple, this “ ditch trumpery,”
as Gilpin calls it ; which naturally leads one to consider
that, if he have so regarded such humble objects, how
much more has he accounted worthy of his beneficence
the more highly destined orders of his creation ! As
Evelyn says, on another occasion, “ I beg no pardon
for this application, but deplore my no better use of
it.” Modern practice records no medicinal virtues to
be derived from the maple ; but Pliny, in the quaint
language of old Philemon Holland, tells us that a cata-
plasm made from the roots of this tree is “ singular to
be applied for the griefs of the liver, and worketh
mightily.” In summer the leaves of the hedge-row
maple often assume a whitish, mouldy look, which ap-
pears to be a mere exudation, as it neither presents any
after-character, nor have I observed that any thing
results from it. The young leaves, soon after their ap-
pearance in the spring, are beset with numerous fine
spines of a bright red color, most probably occasioned
by the puncture of some insect, though I have never
been able to discover any of the larvse inclosed in them.
Some insects wound the leaves and sprays of plants for
nutriment, though generally the object seems to be the
formation of a nidus for their young, by the fluid that
issues from the wound : but insects do something more

THE MAPLE.

81

than merely puncturing the parts to force a liquor to
exude ; a simple wound will not accomplish the desired
object, as the sap not only hardens on the surface, but
acquires a particular form and consistence, and even at
times enlarges to a separate vegetable matter. The
insect that wounds the leaf of the oak, and occasions
the formation of the gall-nut, and those which are like-
wise the cause of the apple rising on the sprays of the
same tree, and those flower-like leaves on the buds,
have performed very different operations, either by the
instrument that inflicted the wound, or by the injection
of some fluid to influence the action of the parts. That
extraordinary hairy excrescence on the wild rose (cynips
rosae), likewise the result of an insect’s wounds, resem-
bles no other nidus required for such creatures that we
know of ; and these red spines on the leaf of the maple
are different again from others. It is useless to inquire
into causes of which we probably can obtain no certain
result, but, judging by the effects produced by different
agents, we must conclude, that, as particular birds re-
quire and fabricate from age to age very different re-
ceptacles for their young, and make choice of dissimilar
materials, though each species has the same instruments
to effect it, where, generally speaking, no sufficient
reasons for such variety of forms and texture is obvious,
so it is fitting that insects should be furnished with a
variety of powers and means to accomplish their re-
quirements, having wants more urgent, their nests be-
ing at times to be so constructed as to resist the in-
fluence of seasons, to contain the young for much
longer periods, even occasionally to furnish a suppy
of food, or be a storehouse to afford it when wanted by
the infant brood.

The wild clematis, or traveller’s-joy (clematis vitalba),
thrives greatly in some of the dry stony parts of our
parish, insinuating its roots into the clefts and passages
of our limestone rocks, where those of many other
plants could not find admission or support ; and forms
in our hedge-rows a heavy shapeless mass of runners
and branches, encumbering and overpowering its neigh-
bors ; many of which it often destroys ; and we see the

THE WILD CLEMATIS.

82

clematis clinging round a few stinted, half-vegetating
thorns, constituting the only fence, miserable as it is.
The runners or branches are very strong and flexile,
and are much used by our peasantry as a binding for
hedge fagots. The tubes, lymph ducts, and air-vessels
of this plant appear in a common magnifier beautifully
arranged, being large, and admitting the air freely to
circulate through them. Our village boys avail them-
selves of this circumstance, cut off* a long joint from a
dry branch, light it, and running about, use it as their
seniors do the tobacco-pipe. They call it u smoke wood,”
and the action of the breath constantly agitating the
fire, it will long continue kindled. The pores are well
seen by drawing some bright colored liquor into them.
I have often observed the long feathered part of the
seed at the entrance of holes made by mice on the
banks, and probably in hard seasons the seed may yield
these creatures part of their supply. The diversity of
form and arrangement in the pores of the roots, stems,
and branches of plants, and the nerves, air-vessels, and
fibres of the leaves, are extremely wonderful and
beautiful ; and it is possible that all the genera, species,
and varieties, have more or less a different conformation
of some of these parts. It is from the agency of these
vessels, imbibing both from the air and the earth, com-
pounding, decomposing, and discharging, in a way we
know little about, that the sweetness of our fruits, the
oil, the bread, and wine to glad the heart of man, pro-
ceed ; and grateful should we be for them. From the
vegetable world man derives his chief enjoyments :
much of his fuel, most of his food, and the chief of his
clothing, have once circulated in the tubes of a plant.
The clematis plant possesses the power of preserving
its verdure, and even thriving, in situations and seasons,
when most other shrubby vegetation fails or languishes.
With us its roots run amid loose stones, and in rocky
places, far from any spring or apparent moisture ; and
yet, in those uncommonly dry summers of 1825 and
1826, it seemed to flourish with more than usual vigor
throwing out its long tendrils, of a fine healthy green
color, adorned with a profusion of blossoms, itself and

THE WILD CLEMATIS.

83

the bramble being in some places the only thriving ve-
getation in a fence. It is marvellous how fibrous-rooted
vegetables, the roots of which penetrate no depth into
the soil, are enabled in some seasons to preserve any
appearance of verdure, the earth they are fixed in
seeming divested of all moisture by the power of the
sun, and being heated like a sand-bath. The warmth
of the earth in 1825 I omitted to record; but in the
following year, which was more dry, and nearly as hot,
the thermometer buried in the earth to the depth of
three inches, in a flower border where many plants
were growing in that sort of languid state which they
present in such exhausting seasons, indicated the heat
of 110°.

Having said thus much of the clematis, the “ withy-
wind” of our peasantry, it must not be supposed that I
advocate the advantages of this plant as a fence, but
only tolerate it where we cannot induce much else to
thrive, it making something of a boundary line ; and
perhaps that is all, for very frequently its numerous
tendrils, and the downy clusters of its caudated seeds
are so interwoven, that the snow accumulates upon the
bush, and presses the whole to the earth, so that in the
spring we commonly find a gap to be repaired where
the clematis has thriven. About February, or towards
the end of winter, this plant becomes stripped of its
feathery seeds, which is accomplished by mice, I be-
lieve the harvest and the long-tailed one (mus sylvati-
cus) principally ; with these they form nest-like beds in
the upper and thickest part of the hedge, resorting to
them in the day-time, where they enjoy in tolerable
safety the air and warmth of the season, in preference
to their cold and damp apartments in the earth, and I
have occasionally disturbed them in their dormitories ;
but at this time it is not observed that the seeds are
much fed upon by them, and probably are only collected
as shelter in a temporary dwelling.

The little excursions of the naturalist, from habit
and from acquirement, become a scene of constant ob-
servation and remark. The insect that crawls, the note
of the bird, the plant that flowers, or the vernal green

84 NATURALIST’S AUTUMNAL WALK.

leaf that peeps out, engages his attention, is recognized
as an intimate, or noted from some novelty that it pre-
sents in sound or aspect. Every season has its peculiar
product, and is pleasing or admirable, from causes that
variously affect our different temperaments or disposi-
tions ; but there are accompaniments in an autumnal
morning’s woodland walk, that call for all our notice
and admiration : the peculiar feeling of the air, and the
solemn grandeur of the scene around us, dispose the
mind to contemplation and remark ; there is a silence
in which we hear every thing, a beauty that will be ob-
served. The stump of an old oak is a very landscape,
with rugged alpine steeps bursting through forests of
verdant mosses, with some pale, denuded, branchless
lichen, like a scathed oak, creeping up the sides or
crowning the summit. Rambling with unfettered grace,
the tendrils of the briony (tamus communis) festoon
with its brilliant berries, green, yellow, red, the slender
sprigs of the hazel, or the thorn ; it ornaments their
plainness, and receives a support its own feebleness
denies. The agaric, with all its hues, its shades, its
elegant variety of forms, expands its cone sprinkled
with the freshness of the morning ; a transient fair, a
child of decay, that “ sprang up in a night, and will
perish in a night.” The squirrel, agile with life and
timidity, gamboling round the root of an ancient beech,
its base overgrown with the dewberry (rubus cassius),
blue with unsullied fruit, impeded in his frolic sports,
half angry, darts up the silvery bole again, to peep and
wonder at the strange intruder on his haunts. The jay
springs up, and, screaming, tells of danger to her brood ;
the noisy tribe repeat the call, are hushed, and leave
us ; the loud laugh of the woodpecker, joyous and va-
cant ; the hammering of the nuthatch (sitta europeea),
cleaving its prize in the chink of some dry bough ; the
humblebee, torpid on the disk of the purple thistle, just
lifts a limb to pray forbearance of injury, to ask for
peace, and bid us

“ Leave him, leave him to repose.’’

The cinquefoil, or the vetch, with one lingering bloom

NATURALIST’S AUTUMNAL WALK-

85

yet appears, and \ye note it from its loneliness. Spread-
ing on the light foliage of the fern, dry and mature, the
spider has fixed her toils, and motionless in the midst
watches her expected prey, every thread and mesh
beaded with dew, trembling with the zephyr’s breath.
Then falls the “ sere and yellow leaf,” parting from its
spray without a breeze tinkling in the boughs, and
rustling scarce audibly along, rests at our feet, and tells
us that we part too. All these are distinctive symbols
of the season, marked in the silence and sobriety of
the hour ; and form, perhaps, a deeper impression on
the mind, than any afforded by the verdant promises,

! the vivacities of spring, or the gay, profuse luxuriance
of summer.

Such notes as these, such passing observations, are
1 perhaps little fitted for, or deserving of, arrangement,
yet, in a woodland autumnal ramble, we are naturally,
almost irresistibly, led to contemplate that beautiful
and varied race of vegetation included under the name
of fungi, so particularly fostered by this season, and
which so greatly delight to spring up in sylvan moisture
and decay: nor is there perhaps any country better
constituted for the production of the whole of this family
than England is, particularly that portion of them de-
nominated agarics. The various natures of our soil and
pastures, the profusion of our woods and copses, the
humidity of our climate, united with the general warmth
of our autumn, accelerating rapid decay, and putres-
cence of vegetable matter, all combine to give existence
to this race. No county is, I believe, more favored for
the production of most of the kinds than Monmouth,
with its deep dark woods, and alpine downs. A resi-
dence in that portion of the kingdom for some years
introduced to my notice a larger portion of this singu-
lar race than every botanist is acquainted with. A sports-
man then, but I fear I shall be called a recreant brother
of the craft, when I own having more than once let my
woodcock escape, to secure and bear away some of these
fair but perishable children of the groves. Travellers
tell us of the splendor of this race in the jungles of
Madagascar, but nothing surely can exceed the beauty

H

BEAUTIES OF THE FUNGI RACE.

86

of some old copse in Monmouthshire, deep in the val-
ley, calm, serene, shaded by the pensile, elegant, au-
tumnal-tinted sprays of the birch, the ground enamelled
with every colored agaric, from the deep scarlet to pal-
lid white, the gentle gray, and sober brown, and all
their intermediate shadings. Fungi must be considered
as an appendage and ornament of autumn ; they are
not generally in healthy splendor until fostered by the
evening damps and dews of September, and in this sea-
son no part of the vegetable world can exceed them in
elegance of form, and gentleness of fabrication : but
these fragile children of the earth are beauties of an
hour :

“ Transient as the morning, dew,

They glitter and exhale,”

and must be viewed before advancing age changes all
their features. There is a pale gray fungus (agaricus
fimiputris) that may very commonly be observed in
September on the edges of heaps of manure, and in
pasture grounds, most beautifully delicate, almost like
colored water just congealed, trembling in the air from
the slightness of its form, its sober tints softly blending
with each other, lined and penciled with an exactitude
and lightness that defy imitation. The verdigris agaric
(agaricus seruginosus) is found under tall hedge-rows,
and near shady banks, and few can exceed it in beauty
wdien just risen from its mossy bed in all the freshness
of morning and of youth, its pale green-blue head var-
nished with the moisture of an autumnal day ; the veil,
irregularly festooned around its margin, glittering like
a circlet of emeralds and topazes from the reflected
colors of the pileus. But it is by examination alone
that the beauties of this despised race can be perceived,
not by a partial and inadequate description.

The certain appearance of many of the fungi can by
no means be relied upon, they being as irregular in
their visits as some of the lepidopterous class of insects.
It is probable that decayed vegetable matter is in most
cases the source whence this race of plants arises, while
a certain degree of moisture and temperature, acting
in concord with a precise state of decay, appears neces-

MUTATIONS OF THE FUNGI.

87

sary to influence the sprouting of the seminal or radical
matter. The beautiful floriform hydnum (hydnum flo-
riforme) is very irregular in its appearance, whence it
is a species seldom found by the botanist. The mitred
helvella (helvella mitra) will abound, and then years
may intervene and not a specimen be discovered. In
1825, a little, gray puff-ball (lycoperdon cinereum),
about the size of a large pin’s head, abounded, covering
patches of grass in all our fields, looking like froth, and
in decay, when discharging its seed, like a spongy
curd ; though it had not been observed, not having ve-
getated, or very sparingly, for upwards of ten years.
Others again, particularly the ligneous ones, remain
permanently fixed for a long period. The fingered
clavaria (clavaria hy poxy Ion) may be found vegetating
on the stump of an old hazel in the orchard for twenty
years in succession. That this elegant race has attract-
ed so few votaries many reasons may be assigned. The
agarics in particular are very versatile in their nature,
and we frequently want an obvious, permanent charac-
ter, to indicate the species, affording sufficient conviction
of the individual. The rapid powers of vegetation in
some will change the form and hues almost before a
delineation can be made, or an examination take place,
requiring nearly a residence with them to become ac-
quainted with their various mutations ; and wTe have no
method of preserving them to answer the purpose of
comparison. These are all serious impediments to the
investigation of this class ; yet, perhaps, I may with
some confidence suggest, that any one, who is so cir-
cumstanced as to afford the time, so situated as to find
a supply of these productions, and will bestow on them
a patient examination, will find both pleasure and grati-
fication in contemplating the beauty, the mechanism,
the forms, the attitudes, of the whole order of fungi.

As far as we can observe, it appears to be an estab-
lished ordinance of nature, that all created things must
have a final period. This mandate is effected by various
means, slow and nearly imperceptible in some cases,
but operative in all. As in the animal world, after dis-
ease or violence has extinguished life, the dispersion is

DECOMPOSITION OF PLANTS.

88

accomplished by the agency principally of other ani-
mals, or animated creatures ; so, in the vegetable world,
vegetating substances usually effect the entire decom-
position : for though, in the larger kinds, the high and
lofty ones of the forest, insects are often the primary
agents, yet other minute substances are commonly found
to accelerate or complete the dissolution. Fungi in
general, particularly those arranged as sphaeria, trichia,
peziza, and boletus, appear as the principal and most
numerous agents, and we find them almost universally
on substances in a certain state of decay, or approxi-
mation to it; though there are a few genera of this
class which are attached to, and flourish on, living ve-
getation. The primary decline is possibly occasioned
by putrescence of the sap, or defective circulation, and
this unhealthy state of the plant affording the suitable
soil for the germination of the parasitic fungus; for
there must be an original though inert seed, till these
circumstances vivify its principle. By what means the
parasite finishes the dissolution is not quite obvious ;
but of that insidious race the byssi, of which family is
the dry-rot (byssus septica), the radicals penetrate like
the finest hairs into the substance, and thus destroy the
cohesion of the fibres. So do the nidularise, many of
the agarics, the boleti, and others ; and it is not unlike-
ly that this operation is the general principle of action
of the whole race, though not so obvious in the minuter
kinds. These terminators, many of which present but
little character to the naked eye, under the microscope
we find to be of various forms, though not always so
distinguishable from each other as the flowers of our
garden. Some of the genera of plants appear to have
distinct agents assigned to them, and the detection and
enumeration of them have been carried to considerable
extent by some of the foreign naturalists ; but, to point
out the variety and curious organization of these sub-
stances, we will only instance four, to be found on the
common plants of the garden or the copse : the laurel,
the elm, the sycamore, and the beech.

The laurel (prunus laurocerasus) is not, properly
speaking, a deciduous plant, though it casts its leaves

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DECOMPOSITION OF THE SYCAMORE. 89

in considerable numbers during the spring and summer
seasons. These long resist the common agents of disso-
lution, like those of the holly, by means of the im-
penetrable varnish that is spread over them. This,
however, wears off, and they decay ; but their destruc-
tion is at times accelerated by a small excrescent sub-
stance, which fixes on the leaf, breaks the surface, and
admits humidity. It appears in the form of a small
black speck, and, when ripe, discharges a yellow
powder from the centre ,* but as soon as one speck,
which is the vessel containing the capsules, has fixed
itself on one side of the leaf, a similar one will be
i found immediately opposite on the other; and hence
j it is well named by Lamarck the two-fronted uredo
(uredo bifrons).* This I believe to be peculiar to the
laurel and the holly.

The leaf of the elm in autumn may commonly be
observed marked with dark-colored blotches, which are
the “plague spot” of its destruction. These leaves
remain in large proportions uninjured through the win-
ter months ; but when spring arrives, the spots become
matured, the surface cracks, and the capsules discharge
; their seeds. Lamarck names it sphaeria xylomoides, but
mentions another as a more early observer. At these
spots the decay of the leaf generally commences.

Most persons must have observed that the upper
surface of the leaves of the sycamore (acer pseudopla-
tanus) is blotched with dark-colored spots (xyloma
acerinum) in autumn. This leaf is detached by the
earliest frosts, and falling to the ground the spots com-
mence their operations by corroding away the portions
of the leaf that surrounds them, but continue attached
themselves, appearing as raised, shining, vermicular
lines. This has been mentioned by Lamarck and
others, and is only now noticed to point out the vari-

* Without close examination, this plant appears to be a uredo ; but
it is in fact a sphaeria. Uredo differs from sphaeria chiefly in the vessels
not containing the capsules in cells, but loose. Hoffman observes,
that both sphaeria and uredo discharge pollen from an orifice ; but,
if the summit of this plant be cut off, the capsules are obvious.

H2

00 DECOMPOSITION OF THE BEECH.

ously constituted agents that accomplish the destruc-
tion of the foliage of plants.

The bark, the wood5 have other deputed powers of
destruction, many of which are very beautifully fabri-
cated. To dwell on them would extend too much these
remarks, designed rather as observations than details ;
yet I am tempted to introduce two. The sphseria coryli
of Lamarck (peziza coryli) is occasionally to be found
in the month of January, and through the winter until
April, upon old hazel sticks, and engages our attention
by the regularity of its tubercles. The seed, or first
principle of production, whatever this may be, by means
unknown to us, has been fixed upon the inner bark of
the wood. Gently increasing, it bursts its way through
the outer bark, which now hangs as a fringe about it ;
the seed vessels expand, and a dusty substance, being
most probably the matter that continues the species, is
dispersed around. A singular plant (sphseria faginea ?)
is found upon the decayed wood of the beech-tree,* in
the earlier part of the spring. It appears on the surface
of it in little nodules, which, gradually uniting and in-
creasing, form a regular black crust. Upon examination
we find, that little round bodies have forced a passage
through the outer bark, and enlarged into small round
tubes, which ultimately become the conductors of the
seminal dust, discharged from round, beaked seed
vessels, embedded beneath upon the inner bark. This
plant presents us with a very remarkable instance of
the attention of nature to the preservation of minute
and little observed things ; the protection of the seed
vessel, and the dissemination, being most particularly
and carefully provided for.

These specimens are only individuals among hun-
dreds, which present us with a world of beauty, variety,
and wonder. I would not wish it to be understood that
it is maintained, by any thing here intimated, that the

* I am uncertain whether this plant has been noticed. Sphaeria
granulosa of Sowerby, and sp. tentaculata of Batsch, may be it in a
young stage of growth ; sp. faginea of Lamarck does not accord well
with it.

RARE AGARIC.

91

dissolution of vegetable matter is effected solely by the
agency of insects or parasitic plants, Nature having
various ways of accomplishing her purposes ; but only
mean to contend that, in numerous cases, these weak
instruments are made use of to accelerate the decay
j and dispersion of it.

We are not favorably circumstanced for any great
abundance of the race of fungi : the old fir grove,
which produces such varieties, and the oak and birch
copses, which have shed their leaves for ages, and given
rise to many, are not found with us ; yet we have a
small scattering too, some of which are perhaps not
undeserving of notice ; and, though rather partial to a
class which has afforded me many hours of gratification
and delight, yet, sensible of the little interest they
generally create, I must limit my mention to a very
few.

The odorous agaric (agaricus odorus) may perhaps
be locally found in plenty, but to me it has always
been a plant of rare occurrence. Its colors are delicate
and modest, rather than splendid, and a near acquaint-
ance only makes us sensible of the justness of its name.
We have another scented agaric (agaricus fragrans),
much more commonly to be met with, which diffuses
its fragrance to some distance : but the former species
does not spread its fragrance until brought into a tem-
perate apartment, when it fills the room with an odor
like that proceeding from the heliotrope, or from fresh
bitter almonds, and communicates it to our gloves, or
whatever it touches. I have found it sparingly here
among dry beech leaves in Wolf-ridge copse.

There is a rare, local, and I believe unnoticed agaric,
trailing its long roots in October among the small de-
cayed fragments of some old hedge, elegant in itself,
but more remarkable from the colored fluid it contains,
which upon being wounded it emits, not as a milky
fluid, but like an orange-colored, tasteless, spirituous
extract, long retaining its color upon paper, and tinge-
ing the hand like the celandine, or blood-wort, (san-
guinalis canadensis); and hence I have called it a
“stainer.” Every part discharges this ichor, but it

92 THE STINKING PHALLUS.

flows rather more copiously from the roots : in general
appearance like A. varius. It may possibly be passed
over as that species ; but this is a race which being
local, precarious, mutable, or fugacious, is seen by the
wandering naturalist alone, and we must leave these
mysterious but beautiful productions of nature to their
solitudes and woods.*

As weeds will grow with flowers, the unsightly with
the beautiful, so do we meet with here much more
abundantly that extraordinary and offensive production
the stinking phallus (phallus impudicus). They do not
dwell near each other, however; this being found in
the month of June on many of our hedge-banks. The
smell it discharges has been thought to be like that
arising from some decayed animal substance ; but it is
of a much more subtle kind, as if the animal fetor had
been volatilized by carbonate of ammonia. Many per-
sons in their country walks, at this period of the year,
must have been occasionally surprised by a sudden dis-
agreeable smell of this nature, and probably concluded
that it proceeded from some dead animal, when most
likely it was produced by this fungus : yet to find it is
not always an easy matter ; for the odor is so diffused on
all sides, that it rather leads us astray from the object
than aids our search, the plant being hidden frequently
in the depth of the hedge. I have at times found it by
watching the flight of the flies, which are attracted by
its fetor. This strong smell is supposed to reside in
the green gelatinous substance which is attached to the
cell of the pileus ; but the odor is at times discharged
by this phallus, before the stem has arisen from the egg.
like wrapper by which it is inclosed. This is a very un-
pleasant plant to delineate, as its odor, when in a room,
is so very offensive, that few persons would willingly
tolerate its presence ; and its growth is so rapid in an
increased temperature, that the form and appearance

* Pileus— conical, one inch occasionally in diameter — -pale gray
becoming ocherous, summit orange, flesh thin.

Lamellae — fixed, white, four in a set, stained in places.

Stipes — fistular, long, chestnut at the base, upwards pale brown ;
root long, trailing, woolly.

DISPERSION OF THE SEEDS OF PLANTS. 93

soon become changed. The seed is supposed to reside
in the cells of the pileus, and the gelatinous matter
which we find on its summit ; and on this, and every
part of the plant, slugs of various kinds are commonly
found feeding, which, retiring to their holes in the earth,
from the contents of their stomachs probably propagate
this phallus. That many of our agarics, and those boleti
which have central stems, are so diffused around by the
agency of these creatures, it is reasonable to conclude;
for it is a very usual thing to find the gills of these
plants, in which the seed resides, so entirely eaten away
by slugs as to have no remains perceptible, except a
little of the flesh and the outer skin ; and they prefer
those plants which are somewhat advanced in age, and
in which we suppose the seminal matter to be more
perfected.

The various provisions which have been devised for
the dispersion of the seeds of plants, and introducing
! them into proper situations for germination, are not the
least admirable portion of the wonderful scheme of
!j creation. Every class of beings appears appointed by
collateral means to promote these designs ; man, beasts,
|j birds, and reptiles ; and, for aught we know, the very
j fishes, by consuming, propagate the algse in the depths
of the ocean. Even insects, by the fecundation of
|j plants, perform an office equivalent to dissemination ;
and the multiplied contrivances of hooks, awns, wings,
&c., and the elastic and hygrometic powers with which
seeds are furnished, manifest what infinite provision has
been made for the dispersion of seeds, and successive
production of the whole race of vegetation.

The turreted puff (lycoperdon fornicatum) is one of
our rare cryptogamous plants. I have had one speci-
men, in which the volvae or wrappers of seven or eight
individuals grew together, each throwing out a head or
capitulum, forming a cluster the size of a doubled fist.

1 It appears, from a close examination of this plant, that
the upper part bearing the head was originally the inner
j skin or lining of the wrapper, which inclosed and shut
it in. Upon the bursting of the wrapper, this inner
| skin peeled up, or loosened itself from the bottom, and

THE MORELL.

94

rising, became finally detached from the wrapper in
every part excepting at the points of the clefts, where
it remained fixed ; in the same manner as a man might
be supposed able to pull up the skin from the hollow
of the hand, and let it remain attached at the tips of
the fingers. This puff dries remarkably well, and
even shows the general form more distinctly than when
recent.

The starry puff (lycoperdon stellatum) is rather diffi-
cult to find, but is a much more common plant, delight-
ing to grow amidst the herbage of some dry bank, and
so is hidden from common observation ; but the winds
of autumn detach it from the banks, and it remains
driving about the pastures, little altered until spring,
when it decays.

We have the morell (morchella esculenta),* but to
this I must subjoin “ rarissime.” Bolton and Micheli
represent the pileus as cellular, like a honeycomb. All
that I have seen are mesenterically puckered. In what
part of this morell the seeds reside is obscure : not in
the hollows of the pileus, I think. That part of our

morell, which in an agaric would be flesh, is found by

the microscope to consist of fine woolly fibres united in
a mass : and probably the seed is contained in this part;
for when the plant is mature, and begins to dry, the
outer coating cracks, and tears these filaments asunder,
and gives the seminal matter, if contained in this part,
a free passage for escape.

The bell-shaped nidularia (nidularia campanulata) is
common with us, the smooth (nidularia laevis) is much
less so. I do not mention them on account of their
rarity, but to notice the singular size of the seeds of
this genus. The principle, by which nearly the whole
of the fungi are continued, is in most instances obscure.
A dust, considered as seminal, is observable in some
of the genera ; in others, even this is imperceptible ;
but in the nidularia the actual seeds, for they are not

* This is the phallus esculentus of some; but Jussieu, Persoon,
and others, have removed it from that genus, on account of its having
no volva, but seeds in cells, not contained in a glareous mucus.

THE BELL-SHAPED NIDULARIA. 95

capsules, are visible at the bottom of the bell-shaped
receptacle, of the size of a turnip seed, or of a large,
flattened pin’s head ; loose, but attached by a filament,
which in the striated species (nidularia striata), in moist
weather, I have drawn out to nearly three inches in
length. This thread appears designed to secure the
vegetation of the seed, by affording it the power of de-
riving nutriment from the parent plant, during the period
it is exerting its strength to vegetate in the earth.
Heavy rains, I apprehend, fill the bells, and float out
the seeds in the spring months, the filaments then
stretching to their full extent. In severe weather we
often find these bells emptied of their contents; and
from observing the excrement of mice about the places
of their growth, I conclude they are eaten by these
creatures. The long mandibles of the little shrew are
well fitted for this operation. I have never found the
plant in such quantities as to yield them any consider-
able supply ; yet it is remarkable, that the seeds of one
genus only, out of such a numerous class, should be so
visible, and of such a size, as to become an article of
food to an animal like a mouse.

But we must dismiss the vegetable tribes, and enter
upon the world of sensitive nature. The quadrupeds
j naturally present themselves first to our notice, but with
us they are few in number; our population scares them,
our gamekeepers kill them, and inclosures extirpate
their haunts. Yet the marten (mustela martes) lingers
with us still, and every winter’s snow becomes instru-
mental to its capture, betraying its footsteps to those
who are acquainted with the peculiar trace which it
leaves. Its excursions generally terminate at some hol-
low tree, whence it is driven into a bag ; and we are
surprised, that a predaceous animal, not protected by
laws or arbitrary privileges, and of some value too,
should still exist. Of all our animals called vermin,
we have none more admirably fitted for a predatory life
than the marten : it is endowed with strength of body ;
is remarkably quick and active in all its motions ; has
an eye so large, clear, perceptive, and movable in its
orbit, that nothing can stir without its observation ; and

THE MARTEN.

96

it is supplied apparently with a sense of smelling as
perfect as its other faculties. Its feet are well adapted
to its habits, not treading upright on the balls alone,
but with the joint bending, the fleshy parts being em-
bedded in a very soft and delicate hair, so that the tread
of the animal, even upon decayed leaves, is scarcely
audible; by which means it can steal upon its prey
without any noise betraying its approach. The fur is
fine, and the skin so thin and flexible, as to impede
none of its agile movements. Thus every thing com-
bines to render the marten a very destructive creature.
It seems to have a great dislike to cold, residing in winter
in the hollow of some tree, deeply embedded in dry
foliage, and when in confinement, covering and hiding
itself with all the warm materials it can find. In genial
seasons it will sleep by day in the abandoned nest of
the crow or buzzard, and its dormitory is often discov-
ered by the chattering and mobbing of different birds
on the tree. It is certainly not numerous in England,
our woods being too small, and too easily penetrated, to
afford it adequate quiet and shelter. Its skin is still in
some little request, being worth about two shillings and
sixpence in the market ; but it is used only for inferior
purposes, as the furs of colder regions than ours are
better, and more easily obtained.

Notwithstanding all the persecutions from prejudice
and wantonness to which the hedgehog (erinaceus euro-
paeus) is exposed, it is yet common with us ; sleeping
by day in a bed of leaves and moss, under the cover of
a very thick bramble or furze-bush, and at times in some
hollow stump of a tree. It creeps out in the summer
evenings ; and, running about with more agility than its
dull appearance promises, feeds on dew-worms and
beetles, which it finds among the herbage, but retires
with trepidation at the approach of man. In the au-
tumn, crabs, haws, and the common fruits of the hedge,
constitute its diet. In the winter, covering itself deeply
in moss and leaves, it sleeps during the severe weather;
and, when drawn out from its bed, scarcely any thing
of the creature is to be observed, it exhibiting only a
ball of leaves, which it seems to attach to its spines by

THE HEDGEHOG.

97

repeatedly rolling itself round in its nest. Thus com-
fortably invested, it suffers little from the season. Some
strong smell must proceed from this animal, as we find
it frequently, with our sporting dogs, even in this state ;
\ and every village boy with his cur detects the haunts
of the poor hedgehog, and as assuredly worries and
kills him. Killing every thing, and cruelty, are the
common vices of the ignorant; and unresisting inno-
cence becomes a ready victim to prejudice or power.
The snake, the blindworm, and the toad, are all indis-
criminately destroyed as venomous animals whenever
found ; and it is well for the last-mentioned poor ani-
mal, which, Boyle says, “ lives on poison, and is all
venom,” if prolonged sufferings do not finish its being :

I but even we, who should know better, yet give rewards
for the wretched urchin’s head ! that very ancient pre-
judice of its drawing milk from the udders of resting
cows being still entertained, without any consideration
of its impracticability from the smallness of the hedge-
I hog’s mouth ; and so deeply is this character associated
1 with its name, that we believe no argument would per-
suade to the contrary, or remonstrance avail with our
idle boys, to spare the life of this most harmless and
| least obtrusive creature in existence.

, If we were to detail the worst propensities of man,
disgusting as they might be, yet the one most eminently
offensive would be, cruelty — a compound of tyranny,
ingratitude, and pride ; tyranny, because there is the
power— ingratitude, for the most harmless and service-
able are usually the object — pride, to manifest a con-
tempt of the weakness of humanity. There is no ore
creature, whose services Providence has assigned to
man, that contributes more to his wants, is more con-
ducive to his comforts, than the horse ; nor is there one
which is subjected to more afflictions than this his
faithful servant. The ass, probably, and happily, is not
a very sensitive animal, but the poor horse no sooner
becomes the property of man in the lower walks of life,
than he commonly has his ears shorn off ; his knees are
broken, his wind is broken* his body is starved, and his
eyes— — ! ! I fear, in these grades of society, mercy

I

98

THE HEDGEHOG.

is only known by the name of cowardice, and compas-
sion designated simplicity and effeminacy ; and so we
become cruel, and consider it as valiance and manliness.
Cruelty is a vice repeatedly marked in Scripture as re-
pugnant to the primest attributes of our Maker, “ be-
cause he delighteth in mercy.” One of the three re-
quisites necessary for man to obtain the favor of Heaven,
and which was of more avail than sacrifice and ob-
lation, was that of “showing mercy;” and He, who
has left us so many examples in a life of compassion
and pity, hath most strongly enforced this virtue, by
assuring us, that the “ merciful are blessed, for they
will obtain mercy.”

Hedgehogs were formerly an article of food ; but this
diet was pronounced to be dry, and not nutritive, “ be-
cause he putteth forth so many prickles.” All plants
producing thorns, or tending to any roughness, were
considered to be of a drying nature ; and, upon this
foundation, the ashes of the hedgehog were administer-
ed as a “ great desiccative of fistulas.”

The spines of the hedgehog are movable, not fixed
and resisting, but loose in the skin, and when dry, fall
backward and forward upon being moved ; yet, from
the peculiar manner in which they are inserted, it re-
quires more force to draw them out than may be at first
sight expected. The hair of most creatures seems to
arise from a bulbous root fixed in the skin; but the
spines of the hedgehog have their lower ends fined
down to a thin neck or thread, which, passing through
a small orifice in the skin, is secured on the under side
by a round head like that of a pin, or are riveted as it
were, by the termination being enlarged and rounded,
and these heads are all visible when the skin becomes
dry, as if studded by small pins thrust through. Hence
they are movable in all directions, and resting upon
the muscle of the creature, must be the medium of a
very sensible perception to the animal, and more so
than hair could be, which does not seem to penetrate so
far as the muscular fibre. Now this little quadruped,
upon suspicion of harm, rolls itself up in a ball, hiding
his nose and eyes in the hollow of his stomach, and

THE HARVEST MOUSE.

99

thus the common organs of perception, hearing, seeing,
smelling, are precluded from action : but by the sensi-
bility of the spines, he seems fully acquainted with
every danger that may threaten him ; and upon any
attempt to uncoil himself, if these spines be touched,
he immediately retracts, assuming his globular form
again, awaiting a more secure period for retreat : —

A, A, are spines of the hedgehog enlarged ;

B, a segment, to show the numerous tubes of communication.

The harvest mouse (mus messorius) in some seasons
is common with us, but, like other species of mice,
varies much in the numbers found. I have seen their
nests as late as the middle of September, containing
eight young ones entirely filling the little interior cavity.
These nests vary in shape, being round, oval, or pear-
shaped, with a long neck, and are to be distinguished
from those of any other mouse, by being generally sus-
pended on some growing vegetable, a thistle, a bean-
stalk, or some adjoining stems of wheat, with which it
rocks and waves in the wind ; but to prevent the young
from being dislodged by any violent agitation of the
plant, the parent closes up the entrance so uniformly,
with the whole fabric, that the real opening is with
difficulty found.

100 THE HARVEST MOUSE.

The Harvest Mouse and Nest .

They are the most tame and harmless of little crea-
tures ; and, taking shelter in the sheaves when in the
field, are often brought home with the crop, and found
in little shallow burrows on the ground after the re-
moval of a bean-rick. Those that remain in the field
form stores for the winter season, and congregate in

INCREASE AND DECREASE OF ANIMALS. 101

small societies in holes under some sheltered ditch-bank.
An old one, which I weighed, was only one dram and
five grains in weight.

Mankind appear to be progressively increasing. It
was an original command of his Creator, and the animals
domesticated by him, and fostered for his use, are
probably multiplied in proportion to his requirements ;
but we have no reason to suppose that this annual aug-
mentation proceeds in a proportionate degree with the
wild creatures upon the surface of the globe ; and we
know that many of them are yearly decreasing, and
very many that once existed have even become extinct.
That there are years of increase and decrease ordained
for all the inferior orders of creation, common observa-
tion makes manifest. In the years 1819 and 1820, all
the country about us was overrun with mice ; they har-
bored under the hassocks of our coarse grasses (aira
caespitosa), perforated the banks of ditches, occasioned
much damage by burrowing into our potato heaps, and
coursed in our gardens from bed to bed even during
daylight. The species were the short-tailed meadow-
mouse, and the long-tailed garden mouse, and both
kinds united in the spring to destroy our early-sown
pease and beans. In the ensuing summer, however,
they became so greatly reduced, that few wTere to be
seen, and we have not had any thing like such an in-
crease since that period. It is probable that some dis-
ease afflicted them, and that they perished in their holes,
for we never found their bodies, and any emigration of
such large companies would certainly have been ob-
served ; yet the appearance and disappearance of crea-
tures of this kind leads us to conclude that they do oc-
casionally change their habitations.

A large stagnant piece of water in an inland county,
with which I was intimately acquainted, and which I
very frequently visited for many years of my life, was
one summer suddenly infested with an astonishing
number of the short-tailed water rat, none of which had
previously existed there. Its vegetation was the com-
mon products of such places, excepting that the larger
portion of it was densely covered with its usual crop,

12

MIGRATION OF RATS.

102

the smooth horsetail (equisetum limosum). This com
stituted the food of the creatures, and the noise made
by their champing it we could distinctly hear in the
evening at many yards’ distance. They were shot by
dozens daily ; yet the survivors seemed quite regardless
of the noise, the smoke, the deaths, around them. Be-
fore the winter, this great herd disappeared, and so
entirely evacuated the place, that a few years after I
could not obtain a single specimen. They did not dis-
perse, for the animal is seldom found in the neighbor-
hood, and no dead bodies were observed. They had
certainly made this place a temporary station in their
progress from some other; but how such large com-
panies can change their situations unobserved in their
transits, is astonishing. Birds can move in high regions
and in obscurity, and are not commonly objects of
notice ; but quadrupeds can travel only on the ground,
and would be regarded with wonder, when in great
numbers, by the rudest peasant.*

That little animal the water shrew (sorex fodiens)
appears to be but partially known, but is probably more
generally diffused than we imagine. The common
shrew in particular seasons gambols through our hedge-
rows,. squeaking and rustling about the dry foliage, and
is observed by every one ; but the water shrew inhabits
places that secrete it from general notice, and appears
to move only in the evenings, which occasions its being
so seldom observed. That this creature was an occa-

* As an event connected with the subject of temporary augmenta-
tion and diminution of creatures, I may be pardoned for noting the
predominant increase of sex in some years. The most remarkable
instance, that I remember of late, was in 1825. How far it extended
I do not know, but for many miles round us we had in that year
scarcely any female calves born. Dairies of forty or fifty cows pro-
duced not more than five or six, those of inferior numbers, in the
same proportion, and the price of female calves for rearing was
greatly augmented. In the wild state, an event like this would have
considerable influence upon the usual product of some future herd.
In the ensuing spring, we had in the village an extraordinary instance
of fecundity in the sheep afforded us, one farmer having an increase
of sixteen lambs front five ewes, four of which produced three each,
and one brought forth four; however, only a small portion of these
little creatures lived to maturity.

THE WATER SHREW.

103

sional resident in our neighborhood was manifest from
the dead bodies of two or three having occurred in my
walks ; but it was some time before I discovered a little
colony of them quietly settled in one of my ponds,
overshadowed with bushes and foliage. It is very
amusing to observe the actions of these creatures, all
life and animation in an element they could not be
thought any way calculated for enjoying ; but they
swim admirably, frolicking over the floating leaves of the
pondweed, and up the foliage of the flags, which, bend-
ing with their weight, will at times souse them in the
pool, and away they scramble to another, searching
apparently for the insects that frequent such places,
and feeding on drowned moths (phalsena potamogeta)
and similar insects. They run along the margin of the
water, rooting amid the leaves and mud with their long
noses for food, like little ducks, with great earnestness
and perseverance. Their power of vision seems limited
to a confined circumference. The smallness of their
eyes, and the growth of the fur about them, are con-
venient for the habits of the animal, but impediments
to extended vision; so that, with caution, we can ap-
proach them in their gambols, and observe all their ac-
tions. The general blackness of the body, and the
triangular spot beneath the tail, as mentioned by Pen-
nant, afford the best ready distinction of this mouse
from the common shrew. Both our species of sorex
seem to feed by preference on insects and worms ; and
thus, like the mole, their flesh is rank and offensive to
most creatures, which reject them as food. The common
shrew, in spring and summer, is ordinarily in motion
even during the day from the sexual attachment, which
occasions the destruction of numbers by cats, and other
prowling animals ; and thus we find them strewed in
our paths, by gateways, and in our garden walks,
dropped by these animals in their progress. It was
once thought that some periodical disease occasioned
this mortality of the species; but I think we may now
conclude that violence alone is the cause of their de-
struction in these instances. The bite of this creature
was considered by the ancients as peculiarly noxious,

THE MOLE.

104

even to horses and large cattle, and a variety of the
most extraordinary remedies for the wound, and pre-
ventives against it, are mentioned by Pliny and others.
The prejudices of antiquity, long as they usually are
in keeping possession of the mind, have not been re-
membered by us ; and we only know the hardy shrew
now as a perfectly harmless animal, though we still
retain a name for it expressive of something malignant
and spiteful.

I think we have reason for suspecting that a shrew
new to Britain exists in this neighborhood. A pale
blue shrew (sorex Daubentonii ? Cuvier) has been seen
about the margins of our reenes, and the deep marsh
ditches cut for draining the water from the low lands
of the Severn ; and something of the same kind, in a
half-digested state, has been found in the stomach of
the heron. If it exist with us, a similar tract of land
in more fenny countries may contain it plentifully,
though it has as yet escaped detection.

The mole, want, mouldwarper or mouldturner (talpa
europea), is common with us, as it appears to be in
most places ; and no creature gives more certain indi-
cation of its presence, haunting, from preference, such
places as its predecessors have done, though years may
have intervened since they were frequented, and rains,
and the treading of heavy cattle, have compressed to
solid earth the ancient runs ; and however assiduously
we may destroy them, should they appear again, it will
probably be in the same places that have been formerly
perforated by others. The earth that these animals eject
from their runs, being obtained from very near the
surface, and finely pulverized, has tempted me more
than once to have it collected for my green-house plants,
but not with the success that I had conjectured. Some
persons have advocated the cause of moles, as being
beneficial to vegetation, by loosening the soil about the
roots of plants. Evelyn and others, again, censure them
as injurious creatures ; and there is a strange narration
in Buffon, accusing them of eating all the acorns of a
newly-set soil. I am not aware of any benefit occasion-
ed by their presence ; their warpings certainly give our

THE MOLE.

105

j| pastures in the spring a very unsightly appearance, and
in grounds designed to be mowed, occasion much
trouble, by obliging us frequently to spread and remove
them; and in newly-sown corn-lands, they disturb by
their runnings the earth at the roots of the grain. But,
perhaps, these trifling complaints, these almost imagi-
nary grievances, are the only evils that can be attribut-
ed to them. In those wild creatures that are not imme-
diately applicable to our use or amusement, we are
more generally inclined to seek out their bad than their
good qualities ; and though I cannot produce any in-
stance in which the utility of the mole is manifested,
yet it is reasonable to conclude, that they are eminently
so, either directly or collaterally, nature having pro-
vided in an especial manner for a constant supply,* and
their increase is prodigious when they are not molested.
I have killed for two years in succession, between forty
and fifty each season, in a very few acres of ground ;
and notwithstanding all our stratagems for their destruc-
tion, and the ease with which they are entrapped, still
plenty always remain to recruit our annual waste of
them. These creatures are supposed to have a very im-
perfect vision, and, like insects, have not any external
ear, or manifest organ through which sounds can be
received ; yet we can in no way for a moment suppose
that they have, been created with any deficiency of
power to accomplish all the objects of their being, but
that every possible exigency has been provided for.
Perceptions may be conveyed in very many instances
by intelligences unknown to us, and unquestionably are
so. The defect of one power is frequently supplied by
the increased activity of another; and the sense of
smelling in the mole must be unusually acute, to en-
able it to pursue and capture its prey with the facility
that it does. Its sole food, we believe, is worms ; and
these sensitive creatures retire immediately upon the
smallest moving of the earth in which they reside.
Now, as it follows them through all their meanderings,
in which neither eyes nor ears would assist it, a fine

* See Ray’s Synopsis.

THE MOLE.

106

sense of smelling seems necessary to enable it to catch
them ; and that its success is equal to its wants, and
that it feeds plentifully, is manifest by the excellent
condition in which the mole is at all seasons of the
year. It will penetrate banks of earth after worms
lodged in their interior, hunt for them in the richest
parts of the field, or on the edges of dung-heaps : in
all which pursuits some unknown faculties may direct
it ; but no sense, that we are acquainted with, could
promote its objects so effectually as that of smell. My
talparius, a very skilful capturer of these animals, is so
sensible of the power that moles are gifted with of
readily discriminating smells, that his constant practice
is, to draw the body of a captured animal through his
traps, and the adjoining runs, and passages, to remove
all suspicious odors, which might arise from the touch
of his fingers. Its feeling, too, must be acute ; as, when
casting up the earth, it is sensible of the pressure of a
very gentle foot; and, unless our approaches are con-
ducted with great caution, it ceases from its operation,
and instantly retires. Should I be censured for needless
prolixity in detailing these sensations of a common
mole, and “ telling of the mouldwarp and the ant,”
I trust forgiveness may be granted me, as endeavoring
to remove all conceptions, should they exist, that any
thing, however vile and worthless it may seem to be,
could be created with powers or means inadequate to
supply its wants. Whoever will examine the structure
of the body of a mole will, perhaps, find no creature
more admirably adapted for all the purposes of its life.
The very fur on the skin of this animal manifests what
attention has been bestowed upon the creature, in pro-
viding for its necessities and comforts. This is singu-
larly, most impalpably, fine, yielding in every direction,
and offering no resistance to the touch. By this con-
struction the mole is in no degree impeded in its re-
treat from danger while retiring backwards, as it always
does upon suspicion of peril, not turning round, which
the size of its runs does not permit, its tail foremost,
until it arrives at some collateral gallery, when its flight
is head foremost, as with other creatures. If this fur

THE HAIR AND FUR OF ANIMALS.

107

had been strong, as in the rat, or mouse, in these re-
treats for life it would have doubly retarded the progress
of the creature ; first by its resistance, and then acting
as a brush, so as to choke up the galleries, by removing
the loose earth from the sides and ceilings of the arched
ways ; thus impeding at least, if not absolutely prevent-
ing, retreat ; but the softness of the fur obviates both
these fatal effects.

The construction of the hair and fur of different
creatures is very various and beautiful ; and if we be-
lieve in the beneficence of the All-wise Creator, we
must conclude that such peculiar fabrications were re-
sorted to for the purpose of being immediately useful,
or as necessary to the condition of the animal. In a
mere sketch like this, it would conduct me infinitely
beyond my intentions, to enumerate the many varieties
of hair that are rendered manifest by the microscope ;
but three or four may be mentioned. The fur or clothing
of the mole is internally composed of collateral bars.
In man the hairs have at times a central tube, for the
conveyance of medullary matter, as in bones, or some
nutriment analogous to it ; but in the mole there appears
to be no communication with the body of the animal,
unless the perspirable matter is conducted alternately
from side to side along the bars. The fur of the bat
has knots like the rudiments of branches. The hairs of
the hamster mouse have a central perforation, appa-
rently uninterrupted throughout their whole length.
Some of the caterpillars (callimorpha caja) have spines
proceeding from the hair that invests their bodies,*
All these, and the other various contrivances so manifest
in the coverings of animals, are probably designed to con-
vey off the perspirable fluids conducive to health in an

* The organ, which inflicts the pain, or sting, when we incautiously
handle the nettle, is well known to be connected with a little vessel
containing an acrid fluid, which being compressed, rushes up the tube
of the organ, and is thus conveyed into the wound ; and it is rather
singular, that the larvse of the admirable butterfly, which feeds upon
the large hedge nettle, has the spines which arise from its body
branched, and each collateral hair arises from a little bulb, similar to
that of the plant on which it is chiefly found.

108 OFFENSIVE ODOR OF THE MOLE.

appropriate manner; to discharge the superabundant
heat, and keep the body temperate in some cases: in
others, again, to retard perspiration, and thus augment
the warmth, by every possible gradation, or to increase
the sensibility and perceptions of the animal. Many
instances of these effects and modifications might be
advanced, deserving a more extensive consideration.

The smell of the flesh of the mole is remarkably rank
and offensive, as, from the nature of its food, might be
expected ; and it taints the fingers, which have touched
it, with its peculiar odor, so that one washing does not
remove it. It is reported of a late very eccentric noble-
man, but with what truth I do not know, who essayed
himself the flavor of every living thing, even to the
eating of the large dew-worm, that the mole alone re-
mained untasted by him, his stomach recoiling with
disgust at the nauseous smell of the flesh of this crea-
ture. Foxes eat moles, and will at times dig out the
traps containing them. The brown owl, too, feeds on
them, when it can meet with them outside of their runs
hunting after dew-worms ; and probably the smaller
vermin do the same : but the cat and the dog turn from
them with manifest aversion as food ; though they will
hunt and kill them as objects of the chase.

These animals, we might suppose, while in their
subterranean dwellings, would be secure from all injury
by such as generally pursue their prey upon the surface
of the earth ; but I have several times known the
weasel caught in the mole-traps, making it manifest,
that it hunts after the mole for its food, and in doing
so, according to our comprehensions, must encounter in-
finite danger from suffocation ; but it is more probable
that so active a creature as the weasel is endowed with
powers to accomplish its object with impunity, which
we are not acquainted with.

THE FEATHERED RACE.

109

During the course of a life passed much in the country,
and perambulating the woods, the hedges, and the fields,
I have contracted almost insensibly an acquaintance
with the creatures that frequent them. Some have en-
gaged my attention by their actions and manners;
others have interested me by their innocqncy, and the
harmlessness of their lives ; and, perhaps, there is some
little partial bearing toward others from long associa-
tion, or from unknown, undefined causes. I tolerate,
in despite of all their noise, and all their litter, a colony
of rooks, which have taken a liking to some tall elms
near my dwelling. Not being ancient denizens there,
they can claim no hereditary rights ; but their con-
trivances, their regularity, and even their squabbles,
are amusing; and, perhaps, there is mingled with this
some little compassion for these dark, half-domesticated
families of the grove, driven by the ax from an old
abode, which may influence my forbearance.

The hedge sparrow, or shufflewing, (motacilla modu-
laris), is a prime favorite. Not influenced by season or
caprice to desert us, it lives in our homesteads and our
orchards through all the year, our most domestic bird.
In the earliest spring it intimates to us by a low and
plaintive chirp, and that peculiar shake of the wing,
which at all times marks this bird, but then is particularly
observable, the approach of the breeding season ; for
it appears always to live in pairs, feeding and moving
in company with each other. It is nearly the first bird
that forms a nest ; and this being placed in an almost
leafless hedge, with little art displayed in its conceal-
ment, generally becomes the booty of every prying boy ;
and the blue eggs of the hedge-sparrow are always
found in such numbers on his string, that it is sur-
prising how any of the race are remaining, especially
when we consider the many casualties to which the old
birds are obnoxious from their tameness, and the young
that are hatched, from their situation. The plumage of
this motacilla is remarkably sober and grave, and all its
actions are quiet and comformable to its appearance.
Its song is short, sweet, and gentle. Sometimes it is
prolonged; but generally the bird perches on the sum-

K

110

THE WILLOW WREN.

mit of some bush, utters its brief modulation, and seeks
retirement again. Its chief habitation is some hedge in
the rick-yard, some cottage garden, or near society with
man. Unobtrusive, it does not enter our dwellings like
the redbreast, but picks minute insects from the edges
of drains and ditches, or morsels from the door of the
poorest dwelling in the village. As an example of a
household or domestic bird, none can be found with
better pretensions to such a character than the hedge-
sparrow.

I always hear with delight the earliest chirpings of
that pretty harbinger of spring, the willow wren (mo-
tacilla trochillus), trilling its wild and gleeful “ chiff
chaffs,” as it chases the insects round the branches of
the old oak in the copse, or on the yellow catkins of
the sallow, itself almost like a colored catkin too. But
this elegant little bird is noticed only by the lovers and
frequenters of the country ; it animates the woods by
its constant activity ; the frequent repetition of its most,
cheerful modulation contributes essentially to the pleas-
ing harmony of the grove ; and its voice is most sprightly
and frequent, when the morning is illumined with one
of those mild, walk-enticing gleams, that render this
short season the most delightful of our year. It builds
its nest, and rears its young with us ; visits our gardens,
but is no plunderer there, living almost entirely upon
insect food ; and its whole life is passed in harmlessness
and innocence. As it is the earliest that arrives, so it
is the last, I believe, of our feathered choir that leaves
us, except a few lingering, irresolute swallows ; and we
hear it piping its final autumnal farewell even in Octo-
ber at times, and sporting with hilarity and joy, when
all its congeners are departed.

It is a difficult matter satisfactorily to comprehend
the object of this bird in quitting another region, and
passing into our island. The chief motives for migra-
tion seem to be food, a milder climate, and quiet during
the period of incubation and rearing their young : but
the willow wren, and some others of our insectivorous
birds, appear to have other purposes to accomplish by
their annual migrations. These little creatures, the

MIGRATION OF BIRDS.

Ill

food of which is solely insects, could assuredly find a
sufficient supply of such diet during the summer months,
in the woods and thickets of those mild regions, where
they passed the season of winter, and every bank and
unfrequented wild would furnish a secure asylum for
them and their offspring during the period of incubation.
The passage to our shores is a long and dangerous one,
and some imperative motive for it must exist ; and,
until facts manifest the reason, we may perhaps, without
injury to the cause of research, conjecture for what ob-
ject these perilous transits are made. We know that
all young creatures require particularly compounded
nutriment during their infant state ; and nature, as far
as we are acquainted with it, has made in every instance
provision for a supply of fitting aliment. In many in-
stances, where the removal of station could not be con-
veniently accomplished, instinct has been given the
parent to provide the fitting aliment for its new-born
young. Thus insects, in some cases, store their cells
with food ready for the animation of their progeny ; in
others, place their eggs in such situations, as will afford
it when they are hatched. The mammalia, at least the
quadrupeds belonging to this class, which could least
conveniently move their station, have supplies given
them of a milky secretion for this purpose. Birds have
nothing of this nature, and make no provision for their
young ; but they of all creatures, except fishes, can
seek what may be required in distant stations with most
facility. A sufficiency of food for the adult parent may
be found in every climate, yet the aliment necessary
for its offspring may not. Countries and even counties
produce insects that differ, if not in species, at least in
numbers ; and many young birds we cannot succeed in
rearing, or do it very partially, by reason of our igno-
rance of the requisite food. Every one, who has made
the attempt, well knows the various expedients he has
resorted to, of boiled meats, bruised seeds, hard eggs,
boiled rice, and twenty other substances, that nature
never presents, in order to find a diet that will nourish
them ; but Mr. Montague’s failure in being able to

112 THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WREN.

raise the young of the cirl bunting,* until he discovered
that they required grasshoppers, is a sufficient instance
of the manifest necessity there is for a peculiar food in
one period of the life of birds ; and renders it probable
that, to obtain a certain aliment, this willow wren, and
others of the insect and fruit-feeding birds, direct their
flight to distant regions, and is the principal cause of
their migrations.

It is some stimulus like this, which urges that little
creature, the golden-crested wren (motacilla regulus),
that usually only flits from tree to tree, and never at-
tempts upon common occasions a longer flight, to tra-
verse the vast distance from the Orkneys to the Shet-
land Isles over stormy seas that admit no possible rest
during its long passage of above fifty miles ! There it
breeds its young ; but this one object accomplished, it
leaves those isles, dares again this tedious flight, and
seeks a milder clime. With us it never migrates, lives
much in our fir groves during the winter, and breeds in
our shrubberies in summer. Peculiar necessities, such
as these, may incite the migration of many birds ,* but
that certain species, which lead solitary lives, or asso-
ciate only in very small parties, should at stated periods
congregate from all parts to one spot, and there hold
council on a removal, in which the very sexes occasion-
ally separate, is one of the most extraordinary procedures
that we meet with among animals.

If the sober, domestic attachments of the hedge
sparrow please us, we are not less charmed with the
innocent, blithesome gaiety of the linnet (fringilla
linota). But this songster is no solitary visiter of our
dwellings : it delights and lives in society, frequenting
open commons and gorsy fields, where several pairs,
without the least rivalry or contention, will build their
nests and rear their offspring in the same neighborhood,
twittering and warbling all the day long. This duty
over, the families unite, and form large associations,
feeding and moving in company as one united house-
hold ; and, resorting to the head of some sunny tree,

* Linnean Transactions, vol. vii.

THE BULL FINCH.

113

they will pass hours in the enjoyment of the warmth,
chattering with each other in a low and gentle note ;
and they will thus regularly assemble during any oc-
casional bright gleam throughout all the winter sea-
son,*—

“ and still their voice is song,”

which, heard at some little distance, forms a very pleas-
ing concert, innocent and joyous. The linnet is the
cleanliest of birds, delighting to dabble in the water
and dress its plumage in every little rill that runs by.
The extent of voice in a single bird is not remarkable,
being more pleasing than powerful ; yet a large field
of furze, in a mild sunny April morning, animated with
the actions and cheering music of these harmless little
creatures, united with the bright glow and odor of this
early blossom, is not visited without gratification and
pleasure.

The bull-finch (loxia pyrrhula) has no claims to our
regard. It is gifted with no voice to charm us ; it com-
municates no harmony to the grove : all we hear from
it is a lowr and plaintive call to its fellows in the hedge.
It has no familiarity or association with us, but lives
in retirement in some lonely thicket ten months in the
year. At length, as spring approaches, it will visit our
gardens, an insidious plunderer. Its delight is in the
embryo blossoms wrapped up_at this season in the bud
of a tree ; and it is very dainty and curious in its choice
of this food, seldom feeding upon two kinds at the same
time. It generally commences with the germs of our
larger and most early gooseberry ; and the bright red
breasts of four or five cock-birds, quietly feeding on
the leafless bush, are a very pretty sight, but the conse-
quences are ruinous to the crop. When the cherry
buds begin to come forward, they quit the gooseberry,
and make tremendous havoc with these. I have an
early wall cherry, a mayduke by reputation, that has for
years been a great favorite with the bull-finch family,
and its celebrity seems to be communicated to each
successive generation. It buds profusely, but is annu-
ally so stripped of its promise by these feathered rogues,

K 2

114 THE BULL FINCH A MISCHIEVOUS BIRD.

that its kind might almost be doubted. The Orleans
and green-gage plums next form a treat, and draw their
attention from what remains of the cherry. Having
banqueted here awhile, they leave our gardens entirely,
resorting to the fields and hedges, where the sloe bush
in April furnishes them with food. May brings other
dainties, and the labors and business of incubation
withdraw them from our observation.

The idea that has been occasionally entertained, that
this bird selects only such buds as contain the embryo
of an insect, to feed on it, and thus free us of a latent
colony of caterpillars, is certainly not correct. It may
confer this benefit accidentally, but not with intention.
The mischief effected by bull-finches is greater than
commonly imagined, and the ground beneath the bush
or tree, on which they have been feeding, is commonly
strewed with the shattered buds, the rejectments of their
banquet ; and we are thus deprived of a large portion
of our best fruits by this assiduous pillager, this “pick-
a-bud,” as the gardeners call it, without any redeeming
virtues to compensate our loss. A snowy, severe winter
makes great havoc with this bird. It feeds much in
this season upon the fruit of the dog-rose, “ hips,” as
we call them. When they are gone, it seems to pine
for food, and is starved, or perhaps frozen on its roost,
as few are observed to survive a long inclement winter.
But it is not the buds of our fruit-bearing trees only
that these destructive birds seek out ; yet in all instances
I think it will be observed that such buds as produce
leaves only are rejected, and those which contain the
embryo of the future blossom selected : by this proce-
dure, though the tree is prevented from producing fruit,
yet the foliage is expanded as usual ; but had the leaves,
the lungs of the plant, been indiscriminately consumed,
the tree would probably have died, or its summer growth
been materially injured : we may thus lose our fruit this
year, yet the tree survives, and hope lives, too, that we
may be more fortunate the next. The Tartarian honey-
suckle (lonicera Tart.) and corchorus Japonicus, when
growing in the shrubbery, are very commonly stripped
of their bloom by bull-finches : the first incloses many

THE ROBIN.

115

separated blossoms in its calyx before expansion, and
in that particular is analogous to the buds of icosandri-
ous trees in the garden ; and the full-petalled swelling
bloom of the latter affords a fine treat for their feasts ;
but we may permit these pretty birds to banquet here,
though, if we expect a supply of summer fruit, we must
unsparingly drive them away from the branches of our
frugiferous trees. The blossoms of the peach, necta-
rine, and almond, I have never observed to be injured
by these birds ; the sparrow will pick away the buds of
trees against walls when they frequent such places, but,
with this exception, I know none but the bull-finch
which resort to that food as a regular supply.

The robin (motacilla rubecola) associated with ma-
lignants is not, perhaps, in the place where it generally
would be sought ; but sad truths might be told of it too.
It might be called pugnacious, jealous, selfish, quarrel-
some, did I not respect ancient feelings, and long-es-
tablished sentiments. A favorite by commiseration, it
seeks an asylum with us ; by supplication and importu-
nity it becomes a partaker of our bounty in a season of
severity and want ; and its seeming humbleness and
necessities obtain our pity : but it slights and forgets
our kindnesses the moment it can provide for itself, and
is away to its woods and its shades. Yet it has some
little coaxing ways, and such fearless confidence, that
it wins our regard ; and its late autumnal song, in even-
ing’s dusky hour, as a monologue is pleasing, and re-
deems much of its character. The universality of this
bird in all places, and almost at all hours, is very re-
markable ,* and perhaps there are few spots so lonely, in
which it would not appear, did we commence digging
up the ground. I have often been surprised in the
midst of woods, where no suspicion of its presence ex-
isted, when watching some other creature, to see the
robin inquisitively perched upon some naked spray near
me ; or, when digging up a plant in some very retired
place, to observe its immediate descent upon some poor
worm that I had moved. The robin loses nearly all
the characteristic color from its breast in the summer,
when it moults, and only recovers it on the approach of

THE ROBIN.

116

autumn ; which in some measure accounts for the ex-
traordinary assertion of Pliny, that the redbreast is only
so in winter, but becomes a firetail in summer.

The object of the song of birds is not agreed upon
by ornithologists, and we will not now think of it, but
merely in passing note how singularly timed the song
of the robin is. The blackbird, and the thrush, in mild
seasons, will sing occasionally throughout the winter ;
but the robin, after having been absent all the summer,
returns to us late in autumn, and then commences its
song, when most others of our feathered choristers are
silent. An apparent contention in harmony ensues
among them; at length the rivals approach, menace,
and fight, with a seeming vexation at each other’s prow-
ess. The song of no one bird is, perhaps, more observ-
ed and remembered than the autumnal and, at times,
melancholy sounding farewell of the robin.

The chaffinch (fringilla coelebs) appears to be uni-
versally spread throughout the English counties, and
the male bird is remarkable for the cleanliness and
trimness of his plumage, which, without having any
great variety or splendor of coloring, is so composed
and arranged, and the white on his wings so brilliant,
as to render him a very beautiful little creature. The
female is as remarkable for the quiet, unobtrusive tint-
ings of her dress ; and, when she lies crouching on her
nest, elegantly formed of lichens from the bark of the
apple tree, and faded mosses, she would hardly be per-
ceptible, but for her little bright eyes, that peep with
suspicious vigilance from her covert. With us the sexes
do not separate at any period of the year, the flocks
frequenting our barn doors and homesteads in winter
being composed of both. In the northern parts of Eu-
rope, however, the females are said to migrate to milder
regions, which induced Linnaeus to bestow the name
of “ccelebs” upon this species. In Gloucestershire
and some of the neighboring counties, they are little
known by the name of chaffinches ; but, from the con-
stant repetition of one note, when alarmed or in danger,
they have acquired the name of “ twinks,” and “ pinks
yet during incubation the song of the male bird, though

A GREAT PLUNDERER OF FLOWERS. 117

without any variation of tune, is very pleasing in the
general concert, as most vernal notes, if not harsh and
| wearisome from monotony, are. These birds make sad
havoc with some of our spring flowers ; and the poly-
| anthus, in March, in our sheltered borders, is very
| commonly stripped of all its blossoms by these little
plunderers, I suppose to obtain the immature seeds at
the base of their tubes. They will deflorate too the
spikes or whorls of the little red archangel (lamium
purpureum) ; and we see them feeding in the waste
places where this plant is found in the spring, their little
mouths being filled with the green seeds of this dead
nettle. At this period too they are sad plunderers in
our kitchen gardens, and most dexterously draw up our
young turnips and radishes, as soon as they appear upon
the surface of the soil ; but after this all depredation
ceases, the rest of their days being past in sportive in-
nocence. I have observed these birds, in very hot sea-
sons, to wet their eggs, by discharging moisture from
their bills upon them, or at least perform an operation
that appeared to be so.

We still continue here that very ancient custom of
giving parish rewards for the destruction of various
creatures included in the denomination of vermin. In
former times it may have been found necessary to keep
under or reduce the numbers of many predaceous ani-
mals, which in a thickly wooded country, with an in-
ferior population, might have been productive of injury ;
and we even find parliamentary statutes enacted for this
purpose : but now, however, our losses by such means
have become a very petty grievance ; our gamekeepers?
do their part in removing pests of this nature, and the
plow and the ax leave little harbor for the few that es-
cape ; and thus we war on the smaller races of creation,
and call them vermin. An item passed in one of our
late church-wardens’ accounts was, “ for seventeen
dozen of tom-tits’ heads ! ” In what evil hour, and for
what crime, this poor little bird (parus casruleus) could
have incurred the anathema of a parish, it is difficult to
conjecture. I know hardly any small animal that lives
a more precarious life than the little blue tom-tit. In-

FOOD OF SMALL BIRDS.

118

deed it is marvellous how any of the. insectivorous birds,
that pass their winter with us, are supplied with food
during inclement seasons, unless they have greater
powers of abstinence than we are aware of : but our
small birds are generally much more active than those
of a larger bulk; the common wren is all animation, its
actions and movements bespeak hilarity and animal
spirits ; and that minute creature, too, the golden-crest-
ed wren, is always in motion, flitting from the yew hedge
to the fir, or darting away to taller trees with a spring
and a power we could not expect from its size. These
muscular exertions must greatly counteract the effects
of seasons, and enable these atoms of animals to sup-
port so cheerfully and gaily the winters of our climate.
But in truth this tom-tit perishes in severe winters in
great numbers. It roosts under the eaves of our hay-
stacks, and in little holes of the mows, where we often
find it dead, perished by cold or hunger, or conjointly
by both ; yet the race survives, and this annual waste
is recruited by the prolificacy of the creature, the nest
of which will frequently contain from seven to nine
young ones. Its chief subsistence is insects, which it
hunts out with unwearied perseverance. It peeps into
the nail-holes of our walls, which, though closed by the
cobweb, will not secrete the spider within ; and draws
out the chrysalis of the cabbage butterfly from the
chinks in the barn : but a supply of such food is pre-
carious, and becomes exhausted. It then resorts to our
yards, and picks diminutive morsels from some rejected
bone, or scraps from the butcher’s stall : yet this is the
result of necessity, not choice ; for no sooner is other
food attainable, than it retires to its woods and thickets.
In summer it certainly will regale itself with our garden
pease, and shells a pod of marrowfats with great dex-
terity ; but this, we believe, is the extent of its crimi-
nality. Yet for this venial indulgence do we proscribe
it, rank it with vermin, and set a price upon its head,
giving four-pence for the dozen, probably the ancient
payment when the groat was a coin. However power-
ful the stimulus was then, we yet find it a sufficient in-

WILES OF BIRDS.

119

ducement to our idle bat-fowling boys to bring baskets
of poor toms’ heads to our church-warden’s door.

The wiles and stratagems of every creature are de-
serving of attention, because they are, for the most part,
the impulse of the weak and feeble, instinctive efforts
to preserve their own existence, or more generally to
secure or defend that of their offspring. Few are able
to effect these objects by bodily power ; but all crea-
tures probably exert a faculty of some kind, to ward
off injury from their young, though not observed by, or
manifested to us. This poor little blue tom-tit, which has
neither beak, claws, nor any portion of strength to de-
fend itself from the weakest assailant, will nevertheless
make trial by menace to scare the intruder from its
nest. It builds almost universally in the hole of a wall,
or a tree ; and its size enables it to creep through so
small a crevice, that it is pretty well secured from all
annoyances, but those of birdnesting boys ; and these
little plunderers the sitting bird endeavors to scare
away, by hissing and puffing in a very extraordinary
manner from the bottom of the hole, as soon as a finger
is introduced, and so perfectly unlike the usual voice
j of a bird, that many a young intruder is deterred
from prosecuting any farther search, lest he should rouse
the vengeance of some lurking snake or adder.

They who have seen much of birds, and attended to
their actions, will in general be certain of the creature
that flits past, by the manner of its flight ; or that utters
its note unseen by the peculiarity of voice ; but the
tribe of titmice (parus), especially in the spring of the
year, emit such a variety of sounds, that they will oc
casionally surprise and disappoint us. Hearing an un-
usual voice, and creeping with caution to observe the
stranger from which it proceeds, we perceive only our
old acquaintance, the large tom-tit (parus major), search-
ing for food amid the lichens on the bough of an apple-
tree. This bird, and that little dark species the 46 coal,”
or “colemouse” (parus ater), in particular, will often
: acquire or compound a note, become delighted with it,

I and repeat it incessantly while sporting about the cat-

120 THE LONG-TAILED TOM-TIT.

kin-s of the alder, for an hour or so, then seem to for-
get or be weary of it, and we hear it no more.

Our tall hedge-rows and copses are frequented by a
very amusing little bird, the long-tailed tit-mouse (parus
caudatus). Our boys call it the long-tailed tom-tit, long
tom, poke-pudding, and various other names. It seems
the most restless of little creatures, and is all day long
in a state of progression from tree to tree, from hedge
to hedge, jerking through the air with its long tail like
a ball of feathers, or threading the branches of a tree,
several following each other in a little stream ; the
leading bird uttering a shrill cry of twit, twit, twit, and
away they all scuttle to be first, stop for a second, and
then are away again, observing the same order and pre-
cipitation the whole day long. The space travelled by
these diminutive creatures in the course of their pro-
gresses from the first move till the evening roost must
be considerable ; yet, by their constant alacrity and
animation, they appear fully equal to their daily task.
We have no bird more remarkable for its family asso-
ciation than this parus. It is never seen alone, the
young ones continuing to accompany each other from
the period of their hatching until their pairing in spring.
Its food is entirely insects, which it seeks among mosses
and lichens, the very smallest being captured by the
diminutive bill of this creature. Its nest is as singular
in construction as the bird itself. Even in years long
passed away, when, a nesting boy, I strung my plunder
on the benty grass, it was my admiration ; and I never
see it now without secretly lauding the industry of these
tiny architects. It is shaped like a bag, and externally
fabricated of moss and different herbaceous lichens,
collected chiefly from the sloe (lichen prunastri), and
the maple (lichen farinaceus) ; but the inside contains
such a profusion of feathers, that it seems rather filled
than lined with them, a perfect feather-bed ! I remember
finding fourteen or sixteen pealike eggs within this
downy covert, and many more were reported to have
been found. The excessive labor of the parent birds
in the construction and collection of this mass of ma-
terials is exceeded by none that I know of; and the

WINTER FOOD OF BIRDS.

121

exertions of two little creatures in providing for, and
feeding, with all the incumbrances of feathers and tails,
fourteen young ones, in such a situation, surpasses in
diligence and ingenuity the efforts of any other birds,
persevering as they are, that I am acquainted with.

We might naturally suppose that by the end of winter,
all those little birds which are solely supported by in-
sect food would find some difficulty in providing for
their wants, having consumed by their numbers and
exertions nearly all that store of provision which had
been provided in the summer and deposited in safety ;
but I have found the stomachs of the tree-creeper, and
this small tit-mouse, even in February, quite filled with
parts of coleopterous creatures, which by their activity
and perseverance they had been enabled to procure be-
neath the mosses on the branches, and from the chinks
in the bark of trees, where they had retired in autumn.
Such plenty being procurable after the supply of so
many months, renders it apparent that there is no actual
deficiency of food at any one period of the year. The
small slugs, and some few insects, may perhaps be con-
sumed by the severity of winter, but the larger portion
of them are so constituted, as to derive no injury from
the inclemency of that season, but afford during many
months provender to other creatures, multitudes yet
remaining to continue their races and animate the air,
when the warm days of spring shall waken them to
active life.

The construction and selected situations of the nests
of birds are as remarkable, as the variety of materials
employed in them ; the same forms, places, and articles,
being rarely, perhaps never, found united by the differ-
ent species, which we should suppose similar neces-
sities would direct to a uniform provision. Birds that
build early in the spring seem to require warmth and
shelter for their young, and the blackbird and the thrush
line their nests with a plaster of loam, perfectly ex-
cluding, by these cottage-like walls, the keen icy gales
of our opening year ; yet should accident bereave the
parents of their first hopes, they will construct another,
even when summer is far advanced, upon the model

L

THE NESTS OF DIFFERENT BIRDS.

122

of their first erection, and with the same precautions
against severe weather, when all necessity for such
provision has ceased, and the usual temperature of the
season rather requiring coolness and a free circulation
of air. The house-sparrow will commonly build four
or five times in the year, and in a variety of situations,
under the warm eaves of our houses and our sheds, the
branch of the clustered fir, or the thick tall hedge that
bounds our garden, &c. ; in all which places, and with-
out the least consideration of site or season, it will col-
lect a great mass of straws and hay, and gather a pro-
fusion of feathers from the poultry-yard to line its nest.
This cradle for its young, whether under our tiles in
March or in July, when the parent bird is panting in
the common heat of the atmosphere, has the same pro-
vision made to afford warmth to the brood ; yet this is
a bird that is little affected by any of the extremes of
our climate. The wood-pigeon and the jay, though
they erect their fabrics on the tall underwood in the
open air, will construct them so slightly, and with such
a scanty provision of materials, that they seem scarcely
adequate to support their broods, and even their eggs
may almost be seen through the loosely connected
materials : but the goldfinch, that inimitable spinner,
the Arachne of the grove, forms its cradle of fine
mosses and lichens, collected from the apple or the
pear tree, compact as a felt, lining it with the down of
thistles besides, till it is as warm as any texture of the
kind can be, and it becomes a model for beautiful con-
struction. The golden-crested wren, a minute creature,
perfectly unmindful of any severity in our winter, and
which hatches its young in June, the warmer portion
of our year, yet builds its most beautiful nest with the
utmost attention to warmth; and, interweaving small
branches of moss with the web of the spider, forms a
closely compacted texture nearly an inch in thickness,
lining it with such a profusion of feathers, that, sinking
deep into this downy accumulation, it seems almost lost
itself when sitting, and the young, when hatched, ap-
pear stifled with the warmth of their bedding and the
heat of their apartment; while the whitethroat, the

THE NESTS OF DIFFERENT BIRDS.

123

blackcap, and others, which will hatch their young
nearly at the same period, or in July, will require no-
thing of the kind. A few loose bents and goose-grass,
rudely entwined with perhaps the luxury of some scat-
tered hairs, are perfectly sufficient for all the wants of
these ,* yet they are birds that live only in genial tem-
peratures, feel nothing of the icy gales that are natural
to our pretty indigenous artists, but flit from sun to sun*
and we might suppose would require much warmth in
our climate during the season of incubation ,* but it is
not so. The green-finch places its nest in the hedge
with little regard to concealment ; its fabric is slovenly
and rude, and the materials of the coarsest kinds : while
the chaffinch, just above it in the elm, hides its nest
with cautious care, and moulds it with the utmost atten-
tion to order, neatness, and form. One bird must have
a hole in the ground ; to another a crevice in a wall, or
a chink in a tree, is indispensable. The bull-finch re-
quires fine roots for its nest ; the gray fly -catcher will
have cobwebs for the outworks of its shed. All the
parus tribe, except the individual above-mentioned,
select some hollow in a tree or cranny in a wall, and,
sheltered as such places must be, yet will they collect
abundance of feathers and warm materials for their in-
fants’ beds. Endless examples might be found of the
dissimilarity of requirements in these constructions
among the several associates of our groves, our hedges,
and our houses ; and yet the supposition cannot be en-
tertained for a moment that they are superfluous, or not
essential for some purpose with which we are unac-
quainted.* By how many of the ordinations of supreme

* I remember no bird that seems to suffer so frequently from the
peculiar construction of its nest, and by reason of our common ob-
servance of its sufferings obtains more of our pity, than the house
marten. The rook will at times have its nest torn from its airy site,
or have its eggs shaken from it by the gales of spring ; but the poor
marten, which places its earthy shed beneath the eave of the barn,
the roof of the house, or in the corner of the window, is more gene-
rally injured. July and August are the months in which these birds
usually bring out their young ; but one rainy day at this period, at-
tended with wind, will often moisten the earth that composes the
nest ; the cement then fails, and all the unfledged young ones are

CASE OF A NEST REPAIRED.

124

intelligence is our ignorance made manifest ! Even
the fabrication of the nests of these little animals ex-
ceeds our comprehension* — *we know none of the causes
or motives of that unbodied mind that willed them
thus.

One notice more of the parus tribe (the parus caeru-
leus), and these little creatures may retire to their leafy
shades and be forgotten. I was lately exceedingly
pleased in witnessing the maternal care and intelligence
of this bird; for the poor thing had its young ones in
the hole of a wall, and the nest had been nearly all
drawn out of the crevice by the paw of a cat, and part
of its brood devoured. In revisiting its family, the bird
discovered a portion of it remaining, though wrapped
up and hidden in the tangled moss and feathers of their
bed, and it then drew the whole of the nest back into
the place from whence it had been taken, unrolled and
resettled the remaining little ones, fed them with the
usual attentions, and finally succeeded in rearing them.
The parents of even this reduced family labored with
great perseverance to supply its wants, one or the other
of them bringing a grub, caterpillar, or some insect, at
intervals of less than a minute through the day, and
probably in the earlier part of the morning more fre-
quently ; but if we allow that they brought food to the
hole every minute for fourteen hours, and provided for
their own wants also, it will admit of perhaps a thousand
grubs a day for the requirements of one, and that a di-
minished brood; and give us some comprehension of
the infinite number requisite for the summer nutriment
of our soft-billed birds, and the great distances gone
over by such as have young ones, in their numerous
trips from hedge to tree in the hours specified, when
they have full broods to support. A climate of mois-

dashed upon the ground ; and there are some places to which these
poor birds are unfortunately partial, though their nests are annually
washed down. The projecting thatch of the old farm-house appears
to be their safest asylum. The parent birds at times seem aware
of the misfortune that awaits them ; as, before the calamity is com-
pleted, we may observe them with great anxiety hovering about their
nests.

THE RAVEN.

125

ture and temperature like ours is peculiarly favorable
for the production of insect food, which would in some
seasons be particularly injurious, were we not visited
by such numbers of active little friends to consume it.

The raven (corvus corax) does not build with us. A
pair indeed attempted to raise a brood in our wych-elm;
but they love retirement and quiet, and were soon
scared away, and made no second trial. Ravens visit
us, however, frequently, and always during the lambing
season, watching for any weak and deserted creature,
which, when perceived, is instantly deprived of its eyes ;
but they make no long stay in our pastures. They
abide nowhere in fact, but move from place to place,
where food may chance to be found. Should an animal
die, or a limb of fresh carrion be on the hooks in the
tree, the hoarse croak of the raven is sure immediately
to be heard, calling his congeners to the banquet. We
see it daily in its progress of inspection, or high in the
air on a transit to other regions, hastening, we conjec-
ture, to some distant prey. With the exception of the
snipe, no bird seems more universally spread over the
surface of our globe than the raven, inhabiting every
zone, the hot, the temperate, the severe — feeding upon,
and removing noxious substances from the earth, of
which it obtains intimation by means of a faculty we
have little conception of. Sight it cannot be ; and we
know not of any fetor escaping from an animal pre-
vious to putrescence, so subtile as to call these scaven-
gers of nature from the extremity of one county to that
of another ; for it is manifest, from the height which
they preserve in their flight, and the haste they are
making, that their departure has been from some far
distant station, having a remote and urgent object in
contemplation.

In England the raven does not seem to abound ; but
it is most common on the shores of harbors, or near
great rivers, where animal substances are more fre-
quently to be met with than in inland places. In
Greenland, and Iceland, where putrescent fishy sub-
stances abound, they appear to be almost domesticated.
Horace calls the raven “ annosa cornix and in a tame

L 2

THE RAVEN.

126

state it has attained a very long life. How long ex-
tended its existence may be, when roaming in an un-
restricted state, we have no means of ascertaining.
This liberty may be most favorable to longevity ; yet,
from the numerous contingencies attending the condition
of these creatures, it is probable that few of them live
out all their days, so as to become the “ bird of ages.”
However, the supposed longevity they have attained,
their frequent mention and agency in holy writ, the ob-
scure knowledge we possess of their powers and motives,
with the gravity of their deportment, like an “all-
knowing bird,” have acquired for them, from very re-
mote periods, the veneration of mankind. The changes
in our manners and ideas, in respect to many things,
have certainly deprived them of much of this reverence ;
yet the almost supernatural information which they ob-
tain of the decease, or approaching dissolution, of an
animal, claims still some admiration for them. This
supposed faculty of “smelling death” formerly ren-
dered their presence, or even their voice, ominous to
all, as

The hateful messengers of heavy things,

Of death and dolor telling

and the unusual sound of their harsh croak, still, when
illness is in the house, with some timid and affectionate
persons, brings old fancies to remembrance, savoring
of terror and alarm. I am no friend to the superstition
of converting natural transactions, or occasional events,
into signs and indications of coming things; supersti-
tions are wearing out, and shortly will waste away, and
be no more heard of ; but I fear, in their place, deism,
infidelity, impiety, have started up, the offspring of in-
tuitive wisdom: the first belief arises from weakness
and ignorance ; the latter disbelief is ingratitude, pride,
wickedness.

Of the natural duration of animal life it is, from
many circumstances, difficult to form an accurate state-
ment, the wild creatures being in great measure re-
moved from observation, and those in a condition of
domestication being seldom permitted to live as long
as their bodily strength would allow. It was formerly

LONGEVITY OF ANIMALS.

127

supposed that the length of animal life was in proportion
to its duration in utero, or the space it remained in the
parent from conception to birth, and the length of time
it required to obtain maturity. This notion might have
some support in reason and fact, occasionally, but in
many cases was incorrect, and in regard to birds had no
foundation. Herbivorous animals probably live longer
than carnivorous ones, vegetable food being most easily
obtainable in all seasons in a regular and requisite sup-
ply ; whereas animals that subsist on flesh, or by the
capture of prey, are necessitated at one period to pine
without food, and at another are gorged with superfluity :
and when the bodily powers of rapacious creatures be-
come impaired, existence is difficult to support, and
gradually ceases; but with herbivorous animals in the
same condition, supply is not equally precarious, or
wholly denied. Yet it is probable that few animals in
a perfectly wild state live to a natural extinction of life.
In a state of domestication, the small number of car-
nivorous creatures about us are sheltered and fed with
care, seldom are in want of proper food, and at times
are permitted to await a gradual decay, continuing as
long as nature permits ; and by such attentions many
have attained to a great age ; but this is rather an arti-
ficial than a natural existence. Our herbivorous ani-
mals, being kept mostly for profit, are seldom allowed
to remain beyond approaching age ; and when its ad-
vances trench upon our emoluments by diminishing the
supply of utility, we remove them. The uses of the
horse, though time may reduce them, are often protract-
ed ; and our gratitude for past services, or interest in
what remains, prompts us to support his life by prepared
food of easy digestion, or requiring little mastication,
and he certainly by such means attains to a longevity
probably beyond the contingencies of nature. I have
still a favorite pony — -for she has been a faithful and
able performer of all the duties required of her in my
service for upwards of two-and-twenty years — and,
though now above five-and-twenty years of age, retains
all her powers perfectly, without any diminution or
symptom of decrepitude; the fineness of limb, bril-

128 THE CROSSBILL.

liancy of eye, and ardor of spirit, are those of the colt,
and though treated with no remarkable care, she has
never been disabled by the illness of a day, or sickened
by the drench of the farrier. With birds it is probably
the same as with other creatures, and the eagle, the
raven, the parrot, &c., in a domestic state attain great
longevity; and though we suppose them naturally tena-
cious of life, yet, in a really wild state, they would
probably expire before the period which they attain
when under our attention and care. And this is much
the case with man, who probably outlives most other
creatures ; for though excess may often shorten, and
disease or misfortune terminate his days, yet naturally
he is a long-lived animal. His “ threescore years and
ten” are often prolonged by constitutional strength,
and by the cares, the loves, the charities, of human
nature. As the decay of his powers awakens solicitude,
duty and affection increase their attentions, and the
spark of life only expires when the material is ex-
hausted.

That rare bird the crossbill (loxia curvirostra) occa-
sionally visits the orchards in our neighborhood, coming
in little parties to feed upon the seeds of the apple ;
and, seldom as it appears, is always noticed by the mis-
chief it does to the fruit, by cutting it asunder with its
well-constructed mandibles, in order to obtain the ker-
nels. A native of those extensive pine forests in the
neighborhood of the Rhine, it makes excursions into
various parts of Europe in search of change of food ;
and, though several instances are recorded of its visits
to our island, I know but one mention of its having
bred in England. A pair was brought to me very early
in August, and the breast of the female being nearly
bare of feathers, as is observable in sitting birds, it is
very probable that she had a nest in the neighborhood.

Gesner has called the common rook (corvus fru-
gilegus) a corn-eating bird. Linnasus has somewhat
lightened this epithet by considering it only as a gath-
erer of corn ; to neither of which names do I believe
it entitled, as it appears to live solely upon grubs,
various insects, and worms. It has at times great diffi-

THE COMMON ROOK.

129

culty to support its life, for in a dry spring or summer
most of these are hidden in the earth beyond its reach,
except at those uncertain periods when the grub of the
chaffer is to be found ; and in a hot day we see the
poor birds perambulating the fields, and wandering by
the sides of the highways, seeking for, and feeding
upon grasshoppers, or any casual nourishment that may
be found. At those times, was it not for its breakfast
of dew-worms, which it catches in the gray of the morn-
ing, as it is appointed the earliest of risers, it would
commonly be famished. In the hot summer of 1825,
many of the young brood of the season perished from
want; the mornings were without dew, and conse-
quently few or no worms were to be obtained ; and we
found them dead under the trees, having expired on
their roostings. It was particularly distressing, for no
relief could be given, to hear the constant clamor and
importunity of the young for food. The old birds
seemed to suffer without complaint; but the wants of
their offspring were expressed by the unceasing cry of
hunger, and pursuit of the parents for supply, and our
fields were scenes of daily restlessness and lament.
Yet, amid all this distress, it was pleasing to observe
the perseverance of the old birds in the endeavor to re-
lieve their famishing families, as many of them remain-
ed out searching for food quite in the dusk, and return-
ed to their roosts long after the usual period for retiring.
In this extremity it becomes a plunderer, to which by
inclination it is not much addicted, and resorts to our
newly-set potato-fields, digging out the cuttings. Ranks
are seen sadly defective, the result of its labors, I fear ;
and the request of my neighbors now and then for a
bird from my rookery, to hang up in terrorem in their
fields, is confirmatory of its bad name. In autumn a
ripe pear, or a walnut, becomes an irresistible tempta-
tion, and it will occasionally obtain a good share of
these fruits. In hard frost, it is pinched again, visits
for food the banks of streams, and in conjunction with
its congener the “ villain crow,” becomes a wayfaring
bird, and seeks a dole from every passing steed. Its
life, however, is not always dark and sombre : it has its

THE COMMON ROOK.

130

periods of festivity also. When the waters retire from
meadows and low lands, where they have remained any
time, a luxurious banquet is provided for this corvus,
in the multitude of worms which it finds drowned on
them. But its jubilee is the season of the cockchaffer
(melolantha vulgaris), when every little copse, every
oak, becomes animated with it and all its noisy, joyful
family feeding and scrambling for the insect food. The
power or faculty, be it by the scent, or by other means,
that rooks possess of discovering their food, is very
remarkable. I have often observed them alight on a
pasture of uniform verdure, and exhibiting no sensible
appearance of withering or decay, and immediately
commence stocking up the ground. Upon investigating
the object of their operations, I have found many heads
of plantains, the little autumnal dandelions, and other
plants, drawn out of the ground and scattered about,
their roots having been eaten off by a grub, leaving
only a crown of leaves upon the surface. This grub
beneath, in the earth, the rooks had detected in their
flight, and descended to feed on it, first pulling up the
' plant which concealed it, and then drawing the larvae from
their holes. By what intimation this bird had discovered
its hidden food we are at a loss to conjecture ; but the
rook has always been supposed to scent matters with
great discrimination.

It is but simple justice to these often censured birds,
to mention the service that they at times perform for us
in our pasture lands. There is no plant that I endeavor
to root out with more persistency in these places than
the turfy hair-grass (aira caespitosa). It abounds in all
the colder parts of our grass lands, increasing greatly
when undisturbed, and, worthless itself, overpowers its
more valuable neighbors. The larger turfs we pretty
well get rid of; but multitudes of small roots are so
interwoven with the pasture herbage, that we cannot
separate them without injury ; and these our persever-
ing rooks stofck up for us in such quantities, that in
some seasons the fields are strewed with the eradicated
plants. The whole so torn up does not exclusively
prove to be the hair-grass, but infinitely the larger

THE COMMON ROOK.

131

portion consists of this injurious plant. The object of
the bird in performing this service for us is to obtain the
larvae of several species of insects, underground feeders,
that prey on the roots, as Linnaeus long ago observed
upon the subject of the little nard grass (nardus stricta).
This benefit is partly a joint operation : the grub eats
the root, but not often so effectually as to destroy the
plant, which easily roots itself anew; but the rook
finishes the affair by pulling it up to get at the larvae,
and thus prevents all vegetation ; nor do I believe that
the bird ever removes a specimen that has not already
been eaten, or commenced upon, by the caterpillar.

The rook entices its young from the breeding trees,
as soon as they can flutter to any other. These youngs
for a few evenings after their flight, will return with
their parents, and roost where they were bred; but
they soon quit their abode, and remain absent the whole
of the summer months. As soon however as the heat
of summer is subdued, and the air of autumn felt,
they return and visit their forsaken habitations, and
some few of them even commence the repair of their
shattered nests ; but this meeting is very differently
conducted from that in the spring ; their voices have
now a mellowness approaching to musical, with little
admixture of that harsh and noisy contention, so dis-
tracting at the former season, and seems more like a
grave consultation upon future procedure ; and as winter
approaches they depart for some other place. The
object of this meeting is unknown ; nor are we aware
that any other bird revisits the nest it has once forsaken.
Domestic fowls, indeed, make use again of their old
nests ; but this is never, or only occasionally, done by
birds in a wild state. The daw and rock pigeon will
build in society with their separate kindred : and the
former even revisits in autumn the places it had nestled
in. But such situations as these birds require, the ruined
castle, abbey, or church tower, ledge in the rock, &c.,
are not universally found, and are apparently occupied
from necessity. The rooks appear to associate from
preference to society, as trees are common everywhere ;
but what motive they can have in view in lingering

THE MAGPIE.

132

thus for a few autumnal mornings and counselling with
each other around their abandoned and now useless
nests, which before the return of spring are generally
beaten from the trees, is by no means manifest to us.

The sense of smelling seems often to supply in
animals the want of faculties they are not gifted with ;
and it is this power which directs them to their food
with greater certainty, than the discernment of man
could do. That we have every faculty given us neces-
sary for the condition in which we are placed, is mani-
fest; yet the mechanical talents and intuition of the
insect, the powers that birds and beasts possess, and
the superior acuteness of some of their senses, of which,
perhaps, we have little conception, makes it evident
that all created things were equally the objects of their
Maker’s benevolence and .care ; the worm that creepeth,
and the beast that perisheth, deserve our consideration,
and claim from human reason mercy and compassion.

The tall tangled hedge-row, the fir grove, or the old,
well-wooded inclosure, constitutes the delight of the
magpie <(corvus pica), as there alone its large and dark
nest has any chance of escaping observation. We here
annually deprive it of these asylums, and it leaves us ;
but it does not seem to be a bird that increases much
anywhere. As it generally lays eight or ten eggs, and
is a very wary and cunning creature, avoiding all ap-
pearance of danger, it might be supposed that it would
yearly become more numerous. Upon particular occa-
sions we see a few of them collect; but the general
spread is diminished, and as population advances, the
few that escape will retire from the haunts and perse-
cutions of man. These birds will occasionally plunder
the nests of some few others; and we find in early
spring the eggs of our out-laying domestic fowls fre-
quently dropped about, robbed of their contents. That
the pie is a party concerned in these thefts, we cannot
deny, but to the superior audacity of the crow we at-
tribute our principal injury. However the magpie may
feed on the eggs of others, it is particularly careful to
guard its own nest from similar injuries by covering
it with an impenetrable canopy of thorns, and is our

THE JAY.

133

only bird that uses such a precaution, securing it from
all common depredation, though not from the hand of
the bird-nesting boy. When a hatch is effected, the
number of young demand a larger quantity of food
than is easily obtained, and whole broods of our duck-
lings, whenever they stray from the yard, are conveyed
to the nest. But still the “ magot” is not an unuseful
bird, as it frees our pastures of incredible numbers of
grubs and slugs, which lodge themselves under the
crusts formed by the dung of cattle. These the birds
with their strong beaks turn over, and catch the lurking
animals beneath, and then break them to search for
more ; by which means, during the winter they will
spread the entire droppings in the fields ; and by spring
I have had, especially under the hedges, all this labor
saved to me by these assiduous animals.

Natural affection, the love of offspring, is particularly
manifested in birds ; for in general they are timid and
weak creatures, flying from apprehended dangers, and
endowed with little or no power of defending them-
selves ; but they will menace when injury is threatened
to their brood, and incur dangers in order to obtain
food for their young, that they will encounter in no
other period of their lives.

The common jay (corvus glandarius) affords a good
example of this temporary departure from general char-
acter. This bird is always extremely timid and cautious,
when its own interest or safety is solely concerned ; but
no sooner does its hungry brood clamor for supply, than
it loses all this wary character, and becomes a bold and
impudent thief. At this period it will visit our gardens,
which it rarely approaches at other times, plunder them
of every raspberry, cherry, or bean, that it can obtain ;
and will not cease from rapine as long as any of the
brood or the crop remains. We see all the nestlings ap-
proach, and, settling near some meditated scene of
plunder, quietly await a summons to commence. A
parent bird from some tree surveys the ground, then
descends upon the cherry, or into the rows, immediately
announces a discovery by a low but particular call, and
all the family flock in to the banquet, which having

M

134

THE SHRIKE,

finished by repeated visits, the old birds return to the
woods, with all their chattering children, and become
the same wild, cautious creatures they were before.
Some of our birds separate from their broods, as soon
as they are able to provide for themselves ; but the jay
and its family associate during all the autumn and
winter months, taking great delight in each other’s
company, and only separate to become founders of new
establishments. We see them in winter under the shel-
ter of tall hedges, or on the sunny sides of woods and
copses, seeking amid the ary leaves for acorns, or the
crab, to pick out the seeds, or for the worms and grubs
hidden under cowdung ; feeding in perfect silence, yet
so timid and watchful, that they seldom permit the
sportsman to approach them. When disturbed, they
take shelter in the depth of the thicket, calling to each
other with a harsh and loud voice, that resounds through
the covert. The Welsh call this creature “ screck y
coed” the screamer of the wood. The jay is a very
heavy, inelegant bird. Its general plumage is sober and
plain, though its fine browns harmoniously blend with
each other : but the beautiful blue-barred feathers, that
form the greater coverts of the wings, distinguish it
from every other bird, and, in the days when feather-
work was in favor with our fair countrywomen, were in
such request, that every gamekeeper, and schoolboy
brother with his Christmas gun, persecuted the poor
jay through all his retirements, to obtain his wings.

The great shrike, or butcher-bird (lanius excubitor),
is not uncommon with us, and breeds annually near my
dwelling. It is one of our late birds of passage, but its
arrival is soon made known to us by its croaking, un-
musical voice from the summit of some tree. Its nest
is large and ill-concealed ; and during the season of
incubation the male bird is particularly vigilant and
uneasy at any approach towards his sitting mate, though
often by his clamorous anxiety he betrays it and her to
every bird-nesting boy. The female, when the eggs are
hatched, unites her vociferations with those of the male,
and facilitates the detection of the brood. Both parents
are very assiduous in their attentions to their offspring,

OR BUTCHER-BIRD.

135

feeding them long after they have left the nest ; for the
young appear to be heavy, inactive birds, and little able
to capture the winged insects, that constitute their
principal food. I could never observe that this bird
destroyed others smaller than itself, or even fed upon
flesh. I have hung up dead young birds, and even parts
of them, near their nests ; but never found that they
were touched by the shrike. Yet it appears that it
must be a butcher too ; and that the name “ lanius ,”
bestowed on it by Gesner two hundred and fifty years
ago, was not lightly given. My neighbor’s gamekeeper
kills it as a bird of prey ; and tells me he has known it
draw the weak young pheasants through the bars of the
breeding coops ; and others have assured me that they
have killed them when banqueting on the carcass of
some little bird they had captured. All small birds
have an antipathy to the shrike, betray anger, and utter
the moan of danger, when it approaches their nest. I
have often heard this signal of distress, and, cautiously
approaching to learn the cause, have frequently found
that this butcher-bird occasioned it. They will mob,
attack, and drive it away, as they do the owl, as if fully
acquainted with its plundering propensities. Linnasus
attached to it the trivial epithet “ excubitor ,” a sentinel ;
a very apposite appellation, as this bird seldom conceals
itself in a bush, but sits perched upon some upper
spray, or in an open situation, heedful of danger, or
watching for its prey. This shrike must be most mis-
chievously inclined, if not a predatory bird. — May 23d :
— A pair of robins have young ones in a bank near my
dwelling: the anxiety and vociferation of the poir
things have three times this day called my attention to
the cause of their distress, and each time have I seen
this bird watching near the place, or stealing away upon
my approach ; and then the tumult of the parents sub-
sided ; but had they not experienced injury, or been
aware that it was meditated, all this terror and outcry
would not have been excited.

Many birds are arranged in our British ornithology
not known as permanent inhabitants, but which have
occasionally visited our shores during inclement seasons.

THE STORMY PETREL.

136

or been driven from their general stations by tempes-
tuous weather. An event like this, the violent gale of
All-hallows eve, in 1824, brought to us the stormy
petrel (procellaria pelagica) ; a bird that resides far in
the depths of the ocean, does not approach our shores,
it is believed, except for the purposes of incubation,
and we know only one place, the Isle of Sky, that it
haunts even for this short period. It is a creature

— “ that roams on her sea-wing,

Unfatigued, and ever sleeps,

Calm, upon the toiling deeps.”

It is a pretty good manifestation of the strength and
extent of that hurricane, which could catch up a bird
with a wing so powerful as to enable it to riot in the
whirlwind and enjoy the storm, and bear it away irre-
sistibly, perhaps, from the Atlantic waves, over such a
space of land and ocean, and then dash it down on a
rather elevated common in this parish, whence it was
brought to me in a very perfect state. This little crea-
ture, scarcely as big again as a swallow, and the smallest
of all our web-footed birds, has, like all the others of
its genus, that extraordinary tube on its upper mandi-
ble, through which it spirts out an oily matter when
irritated ; but the real object of this singular provision
seems unknown. Our seamen amuse themselves during
the monotony of a voyage with the vagaries of “mother
Carey’s chickens,” as they have from very early times
called this bird. The petrels seem to repose in a com-
mon breeze, but upon the approach, or during the con-
tinuation, of a gale, they surround a ship, and catch up
the small animals which the agitated ocean brings near
the surface, or any food that may be dropped from the
vessel. Whisking with the celerity of an arrow through
the deep valleys of the -abyss, and darting away over
the foaming crest of some mountain wave, they attend
the laboring bark in all her perilous course. When the
storm subsides they retire to rest, and are no more seen.
The presence of this petrel was thought in times past
to predict a storm, and it was consequently looked upon
as an unwelcome visitant.

THE WRYNECK.

137

The wryneck (jynx torquilla) visits us annually, but
in very uncertain numbers, and, from some unknown
cause, or local changes, in yearly diminishing quantities.
In one short season after its arrival we hear its singular
monotonous note at intervals through half the day.
This ceases, and we think no more about it, as it con-
tinues perfectly mute ; not a twit or a chirp escapes to
remind us of its presence during all the remainder of
its sojourn with us, except the maternal note or hush
of danger, which is a faint, low, protracted hissing, as
the female sits clinging by the side or on the stump of
a tree. Shy and unusually timid, as if all its life were
spent in the deepest retirement away from man, it re-
mains through the day on some ditch bank, or basks
with seeming enjoyment, in any sunny hour, on the
ant-hills nearest to its retreat ; and these it depopulates
for food, by means of its long glutinous tongue, which
with the insects collects much of the soil of the heaps,
as we find a much larger portion of grit in its stomach
than is usually met with in that of other birds. When
disturbed it escapes by a flight precipitate and awkward,
hides itself from our sight, and, were not its haunts
and habits known, we should never conjecture that this
bustling fugitive was our long- forgotten spring visitant
the wryneck. The winter or spring of 1818 was, from
some unknown cause, singularly unfavorable for this
bird. It generally arrives before the middle of April ;
and its vernal note, so unlike that of any of its com-
panions, announces its presence throughout all the mild
mornings of this month, and part of the following; but
during the spring of that year it was perfectly silent, or
absent from us. The season, it is true, was unusually
cheerless and ungenial.

Some of our birds are annually diminishing in num-
bers ; others have been entirely destroyed, or no longer
visit the shores of Britain. The increase of our popu-
lation, inclosure, and clearage of rude and open places,
and the drainage of marshy lands, added to the noise
of our fire-arms, have driven them away, or rendered
their former breeding and feeding stations no longer
eligible to many, especially to the waders and aquatic

M 2

DISAPPEARANCE OF CERTAIN BIRDS.

138

birds. The great Swan Pool, near the city of Lincoln,
on which I have seen at one time forty of these majestic
creatures sailing in all their dignity, is, I am told, no
longer a pool ; the extensive marshes of Glastonbury,
which have afforded me the finest snipe shooting, are
now luxuriant corn farms ; and multitudes of other
cases of such subversions of harbor for birds are within
memory. An ornithological list made no longer ago
than the days of Elizabeth would present the names of
multitudes now aliens to our shores. The nightingale
was common with us here a few years past ; the rival
songs of many were heard every evening during the
season, and in most of our shady lanes we were saluted
by the harsh warning note of the parent to its young ;
but from the assiduity of bird-catchers, or some local
change that we are not sensible of, a solitary vocalist
or so now only delights our evening walk. The egg
of this bird is rather singularly colored, and not com-
monly to be obtained. Our migrating small birds incur
from natural causes great loss in their transits ; birds
of prey, adverse winds, and fatigue, probably reduce
their numbers nearly as much as want, and the severity
of the winter season, does those that remain ; and in
some summers the paucity of such birds is strikingly
manifest. Even the hardy rook is probably not found
in such numbers as formerly, its haunts having been
destroyed or disturbed by the felling of trees, in conse-
quence of the increased value of timber, and the
changes in our manners and ideas. Rooks love to build
near the habitation of man : but their delight, the long
avenue, to caw as it were in perspective from end to
end, is no longer the fashion ; and the poor birds have
been dispersed to settle on single distant trees, or in the
copse, and are captured and persecuted.

“ Old-fashioned halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks,”

a modern Zephalinda would scarcely find now to anti-
cipate with dread. In many counties very few rookeries
remain, where once they were considered as a neces-
sary appendage, and regularly pointed out the abbey,
the hall, the court-house, and the grange.

1

139

THE STARLING, OR STARE.

The starling (sturnus vulgaris) breeds with us, as, in
most villages in England. Towards autumn the broods
unite, and form large flocks; but those prodigious
flights, with which, in some particular years, we are
visited, especially in parts of those districts formerly
called the “ fen counties,” are probably an accumulation
from foreign countries. We have seldom more than a
pair, or two, which nestle under the tiling of an old
house, in the tower of the church, the deserted hole of
the wood-pecker, or some such inaccessible place. The
flights probably migrate to this country alone, as few
birds could travel long, and continue such a rapid mo-
tion as the starling. The Royston crow, the only mi-
grating bird with which it forms an intimate association,
is infinitely too heavy of wing to have journeyed with
the stare. The delight of these birds in society is a
predominant character ; and to feed they will associate
with the rook, the pigeon, or the daw ; and sometimes,
but not cordially, with the fieldfare : but they chiefly
roost with their own families, preferring some reedy,
marshy situation. These social birds are rarely seen
alone, and should any accident separate an individual
from the companions of its flight, it will sit disconsolate
on an eminence, piping and plaining, till some one of
its congeners join it. Even in small parties they keep
continually calling and inviting associates to them, with
a fine clear note, that, in particular states of the air,
may be heard at a considerable distance. This love of
society seems to be innate ; for I remember one poor
bird, that had escaped from domestication, in which it
had entirely lost, or probably never knew, the language
or manners of its race, and acquired only the name of
its mistress ; disliked and avoided by its congeners, it
would sit by the hour together, sunning on some tall
elm, calling in a most plaintive strain, Nanny, Nanny,
but no Nanny came ; and our poor solitary either pined
itself to death, or was killed, as its note ceased. They
vastly delight, in a bright autumnal morning, to sit
basking and preening themselves on the summit of a
tree, chattering all together in a low song-like1 note.
There is something singularly curious and mysterious

THE LABOR OF BIRDS

140

in the conduct of these birds previous to their nightly
retirement, by the variety and intricacy of the evolutions
they execute at that time. They will form themselves
perhaps into a triangle, then shoot into a long, pear-
shaped figure, expand like a sheet, wheel into a ball, as
Pliny observes, each individual striving to get into the
centre, dec.', with a promptitude more like parade move-
ments, than the actions of birds. As the breeding sea-
son advances, these prodigious flights divide, and finally
separate into pairs, and form their summer settlements ;
but probably the vast body of them leaves the kingdom.
Travellers tell us, that starlings abound in Persia and
the regions of Caucasus.

No birds, except sparrows, congregate more densely
than stares. They seem continually to be running into
clusters, if ever so little scattered ; and the stopping
of one, to peck at a worm, immediately sets all its com-
panions hastening to partake. This habit in the winter
season brings on them death, and protracted sufferings,
as every village popper notices these flocks, and fires
at the poor starlings. Their flesh is bitter and rank,
and thus useless when obtained ; but the thickness of
the flights, the possibility of killing numbers, and mani-
festing his skill, encourages the trial. The flight of
these birds, whether from feeding to roost, or on their
return to feed, is so rapid, that none with any impedi-
ment can keep company ; and in consequence we see
many, which have received slight wing or body wounds,
lingering about the pastures long into spring, and pining
after companions they cannot associate with.

These birds are very assiduous in their attentions to
their young, and in continual progress to collect worms
and insects for them. However strong parental affec-
tion may be in all creatures, yet the care which birds
manifest in providing for their nestlings is more obvious
than that of other animals. The young of beasts sleep
much ; some are hidden in lairs and thickets nearly all
the day, others take food only at intervals or stated
periods, the parent ruminating, feeding, or reposing
too: but birds, the young of which remain in their
nests, as most of them do, excepting the gallinaceous

TO FEED THEIR YOUNG.

141

and aquatic tribes, have no cessation of labor from
early morning till the close of eve, till the brood can
provide for themselves. What unceasing toil and per-
severance are manifest in the rooks, and what distances
do they travel to obtain nourishment for their clamorous
brood ! It is a very amusing occupation for a short time,
to attend to the actions of a pair of swallows, or mar-
tens, the family of which have left the nest, and settled
upon some naked spray, or low bush in the field, the
parents cruising around, and then returning with their
captures to their young: the constant supply which
they bring, the celerity with which it is given and re-
ceived, and the activity and evolutions of the elder
birds, present a pleasing example of industry and affec-
tion. I have observed a pair of starlings for several days
in constant progress before me, having young ones in
the hole of a neighboring poplar tree, and they have
been probably this way in action from the opening of
the morning — thus persisting in this labor of love for
twelve or thirteen hours in the day ! The space they
pass over in their various transits and returns must be
very great, and the calculation vague ; yet, from some
rude observations it appears probable that this pair in
conjunction do not travel less than fifty miles in the
day, visiting and feeding their young about a hundred
and forty times, which consisting of five in number,
and admitting only one to be fed each time, every bird
must receive in this period eight-and-twenty portions
of food or water ! This excessive labor seems entailed
upon most of the land birds, except the gallinaceous
tribes, and some of the marine birds, which toil with
infinite perseverance in fishing for their broods; but
the very precarious supply of food to be obtained in
dry seasons by the terrestrial birds renders theirs a
labor of more unremitting hardship than that expe-
rienced by the piscivorous tribes, the food of which is
probably little influenced by season, while our poor
land birds find theirs to be nearly annihilated in some
cases. The gallinaceous birds have nests on the ground ;
the young leave them as soon as they escape from the
shell, are led immediately from the hatch to fitting

THE RED-START.

142

situations for food and water, and all their wants are
most admirably attended to ; but the constant journey-
ings of those parent birds that have nestlings unable to
move away, the speed with which they accomplish their
trips, the anxiety they manifest, and the long labor in
which they so gaily persevere, is most remarkable and
pleasing, and a duty consigned but to a few.

We have no bird more assiduous in attentions to their
young, than the red-start, ( steort , Saxon, a tail,) one or
other of the parents being in perpetual action, convey-
ing food to the nest, or retiring in search of it ; but as
they are active, quick-sighted creatures, they seem to
have constant success in their transits. They are the
most restless and suspicious of birds during this season
of hatching and rearing their young; for when the
female is sitting, her mate attentively watches over her
safety, giving immediate notice of the approach of any
seemingly hostile thing, by a constant repetition of one
or two querulous notes, monitory to her or menacing to
the intruder : but when the young are hatched, the very
appearance of any suspicious creature sets the parents
into an agony of agitation, and perching upon some
dead branch or a post, they persevere in one unceasing
clamor till the object of their fears is removed ; a mag-
pie near their haunts, with some reason, excites their
terror greatly, which is expressed with unremitting
vociferation. All this parental anxiety, however, is no
longer in operation than during the helpless state of
their offspring, which, being enabled to provide their
own requirements, gradually cease to be the objects of
solicitude and care ; they retire to some distant hedge,
become shy and timid things, feeding in unobtrusive
silence.

The brown starling, or solitary thrush (turdus soli-
tarius), is not an uncommon bird with us. It breeds in
the holes and hollows of old trees, and, hatching early,
forms small flocks in our pastures, which are seen about
before the arrival of the winter starling, for which bird,
by its manners and habits, it is generally mistaken. It
will occasionally, in very dry seasons, enter our gardens
for food, which the common stares never do ; and this

THE BROWN STARLING.

143

year (1826) I had one caught in a trap, unable to resist
the tempting plunder of a cherry tree, in conjunction
with half the thrushes in the neighborhood. I have
seen a few, small, thrushlike birds associate and feed
with the missel thrush in our summer pastures, which
I suspect to be solitary starlings : but, wild and wary
like them, they admit no approach to verify the species ;
and they appear likewise to follow and mix with this
bird, when it visits us in autumn, to gather the berries
of the yew and the mountain ash. I am not certain
where it passes its winter season, but apprehend it
mingles in the large flights of the common species. It
returns to our pastures, however, for a short period in the
spring, in small parties of six or ten individuals. The
common stare, when disturbed, rises and alights again
at some distance, most generally on the ground ; but
the brown starling settles frequently on some low bush,
or small tree, before it returns to its food. I know of
no description that accords so well with our bird as that
in Bewick’s supplement, excepting that the legs of
those which I have seen are of a red brown color, the
bill black, and the lower mandible margined with
white ; but age and sex occasion many changes in tints
and shades. This species possesses none of those
beauties of plumage so observable in the common
starling, and all those hue prismatic tintings that play
and wander over the feathers of the latter are wanting
in the former. Its whole appearance is like that of a
thrush, but it presents even a plainer garb; its browns
are more dusky and weather-beaten ; and for the beau-
tiful mottled breast of the throstle, it has a dirty white,
and a dirtier brown. I scarcely know any bird less
conspicuous for beauty than the solitary thrush : it
seems like a bleached, wayworn traveller, even in its
youth.

It was a very ancient observation, and modern inves-
tigation seems fully to confirm it, that many of the
serpent race captured their prey by infatuation or in-
timidation ; and there can be no doubt of the fact, that
instinctive terror will subdue the powers of some crea-
tures, rendering them stupefied and motionless at the

144 THE SPARROW-HAWK AND KESTREL.

sudden approach of danger. We have two kinds of
petty hawks, the sparrow-hawk (falco nisus) and the
kestrel (falco tinunculus), that seem fully to impress
upon their destined prey this species of intimidation.
A beautiful male bullfinch, that sat harmlessly pecking
the buds from a blackthorn by my side, when overlook-
ing the work of a laborer, suddenly uttered the in-
stinctive moan of danger, but made no attempt to es-
cape into the bush, seemingly deprived of the power of
exertion. On looking round, a sparrow-hawk was ob-
served on motionless wing gliding rapidly along the
hedge, and, passing me, rushed on its prey with un-
deviating certainty. There was fully sufficient time from
the moment of perception for the bullfinch to escape ;
but he sat still, waiting the approach of death, an un-
resisting victim. We have frequently observed these
birds, when perched on an eminence, insidiously atten-
tive to a flock of finches and yellow-hammers basking
in a hedge, and after due consideration apparently single
out an individual. Upon its moving for its prey, some
wary bird has given the alarm, and most of the little
troop scuttle immediately into the hedge ; but the hawk
holds on its course, and darts upon a selected object.
If baffled, it seldom succeeds upon another ; and so
fixed are its eyes upon this one individual, that, as if
unobservant of its own danger, it snatches up its morsel
at our very sides. A pigeon on the roof of the dovecot
seems selected from its fellows, the hawk rarely snatch-
ing at more than one terror-stricken bird. The larger
species of hawks appear to employ no powers excepting
those of wing, but pursue and capture by celerity and
strength.

We converse annually upon early and late seasons;
and such things there are. A mild winter, a warm Feb-
ruary and March, will influence greatly the growth of
vegetation : not that a primrose under that bank, or a
violet under the shelter of this hedge, affords us any
criterion of earliness; but a general shading of green,
an expansion of buds, an incipient unfolding of leaves,
gives notice of the spring’s advance. The principal
blossoming of plants usually takes place at nearly stated

VARIABLENESS OF SEASONS.

145

periods ; but particular mildness in the atmosphere and
additional warmth in the soil, accelerate this season ;
and of all the evils which threaten the horticulturist,
an early spring is most to be deprecated. An April
breathing odors, wreathed in verdure and flowers, the
willow-wren sporting in the copse, the swallow skim-
ming over the pool, lambs racing in the daisied mead,
may be a beautiful sight to contemplate,—

“Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyrs blow;”

but it is like the laugh of irony, the smile that lures to
ruin,

“ Which, hushed in grim repose, awaits his certain prey.”

Then comes a ruthless May, with Winter in her train,
who, with his frosty edge, unpitying shears away all the
expectancies, the beautiful promise of the year; and
we have to await returning seasons, and patient hope
for better things. A garden pining and prostrate from
the effects of a churlish, frosty May, leaves crisp and
blackened, flowers withered, torn, and scattered around,
are a melancholy sight — the vernal hectic that consumes
the fairest offspring of the nursery. There is a plant,
however, the white-thorn (mespilus oxycanthus), the
May of our rustics, common in all places and situations,
that affords a good example of general steadiness to
time, uninfluenced by partial effects. An observation
of above twenty years upon this plant has proved how
little it deviates in its blossoming in one season from
another ; and, under all the importunities and blandish-
I ments of the most seductive Aprils, I have in all that
period never but twice seen more than a partial blossom
by the first of May. We hail our first-seen swallow as
a harbinger of milder days and summer enjoyments;
but the appearance of our birds of passage is not greatly
to be depended upon, as I have reason to apprehend
from much observation. They will be accelerated or re-
tarded in the time of their departure by the state of the
wind in the country whence they take their flight ; they
travel much by night, requiring in many instances the
light of the moon to direct them ; and the actual time
of their arrival is difficult to ascertain, as they steal into

N

RETURN OF MIGRATING BIRDS.

146

our hedges and copses unperceived. If the weather be
bright or warm, their voices are heard ; if gloomy and
cold, they will lie secreted till the call of hunger or of
love intimates their presence. Though we rarely see
these birds in their transits, yet I have at times, on a
calm bright evening in November, heard high in the
air the redwing and the fieldfare, on progress to a des-
tined settlement, manifested by the signal-notes of some
leading birds to their scattered followers. These con-
ductors of their flocks are certainly birds acquainted
with the country over which they travel, their settle-
ments here being no promiscuous dispersion : it being
obvious that many pairs of birds return to their ancient
haunts, either old ones which had bred there, or their
offspring. The butcher-bird successively returns to a
hedge in one of my fields, influenced by some advantage
it derives from that situation, or from a preference to
the spot where hatched ; but we have perhaps no bird
more attached to peculiar situations than the gray fly-
catcher (muscicapa grisola), one pair, or their de-
scendants, frequenting year after year the same hole in
the wall, or the same branch on the vine or the plum.
Being perfectly harmless, and hence never molested,
they become

“ Enamor’d with their ancient haunts,

and hover round.”

I once knew a pair of these birds bring off two broods
in one season from the same nest. This flycatcher
delights in eminences. The naked spray of a tree, or
projecting stone in a building, or even a tall stick in
the very middle of the grass-plot, is sure to attract its
attention, as affording an uninterrupted view of its
winged prey ; and from this it will be in constant ac-
tivity a whole summer’s day, capturing its food and re-
turning to swallow it. The digestion of some birds
must be remarkably rapid, to enable them to receive
such constant replenishments of food. The swift and
the swallow are feeding from the earliest light in the
morning till the obscurity of evening ; the quantities of
cherries and raspberries that the blackcap and petti-

FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN BIRDS.

147

chaps will eat are surprising, as they are unremittingly
consuming from morning till night ; and this flycatcher
seems to require a proportion of food equal to any bird,
being in constant progress, capturing one moment, and
resting the next. But fruit and insects are with us only
for a short season ; and their privations, when these no
longer afford a supply, indicate, that they possess the
power of abstinence, as well as that of consumption.

We observed this summer two common thrushes
frequenting the shrubs on the green in our garden.
From the slenderness of their forms, and the freshness
of their plumage, we pronounced them to be birds of
the preceding summer. There was an association and
friendship between them, that called our attention to
their actions : one of them seemed ailing, or feeble
from some bodily accident ; for though it hopped about,
yet it appeared unable to obtain sufficiency of food ; its
companion, an active sprightly bird, would frequently
bring it worms, or bruised snails, when they mutually
partook of the banquet ; and the ailing bird would wait
patiently, understand the actions, expect the assistance
of the other, and advance from his asylum upon its
approach. This procedure was continued for some days,
but after a time we missed the fostered bird, which
probably died, or by reason of its weakness met with
some fatal accident. We have many relations of
the natural affection of animals ; and whoever has at-
tended to the actions of the various creatures we are
accustomed to domesticate about us can probably add
many other instances from their own observation. Ac-
tions which are in any way analogous to the above,
when they are performed by mankind, arise most com-
monly from duty, affection, pity, interest, pride ; but we
are not generally disposed to allow the inferior orders
of creation the possession of any of these feelings,
except perhaps the last : yet when we have so many
instances of attachment existing between creatures
similar and dissimilar in their natures, which are obvious
to all, and where no interest can possibly arise as a
motive ; when we mark the varieties of disposition
which they manifest under uniform treatment, their

THE THRUSH.

148

various aptitudes and comprehensions, sensibility or in-
attention to sounds, &c., it seems but reasonable to
consider them as gifted with latent passions ; though
being devoid of mind to stimulate or call them into ac-
tion by any principle of volition or virtue, how excited
to performance we know no more than we do the
motives of many of their bodily actions ! The kind-
nesses and attentions which the maternal creature mani-
fests in rearing its young, and the assistance occasion-
ally afforded by the paternal animal, during the same
period, appears to be a natural inherent principle uni-
versally diffused throughout creation ; but when we see
a sick or maimed animal supplied and attended by an-
other, which we suppose gifted with none of the stimuli
to exertion that actuate our conduct, we endow them by
this denial with motives with which we ourselves are
unacquainted ; and at last we can only relate the fact,
without defining the cause.

The throstle is a bird of great utility in a garden
where wall-fruit is grown, by reason of the peculiar
inclination which it has for feeding upon snails, and
very many of them he does dislodge in the course of
the day. When the female is sitting, the male bird
seems to be particularly assiduous in searching them
out, and I believe he feeds his mate during that period,
having frequently seen him flying to the nest with food,
long before the eggs were hatched ; after this time the
united labors of the pair destroy numbers of these in-
jurious creatures. That he will regale himself fre-
quently with a tempting gooseberry, or bunch of cur-
rants, is well known, but his services entitle him to a
very ample reward. The blackbird associates with these
thrushes in our gardens, but makes no compensation for
our indulgences after his song ceases, as he does not
feed upon the snail ; but the thrush benefits us through
the year by his propensities for this particular food,
and every grove resounds with his harmony in the
season; and probably if this race suffered less from
the gun of the Christmas popper, the gardener might
find much benefit in his ensuing crop of fruit, from the
forbearance*

THE COMMON SPARROW. 149

We have no bird, I believe, more generally known,
thought of, or mentioned with greater indifference, per-
haps contempt, than the common sparrow (fringilla do-
mestica), “ that sitteth alone on the house-top ; ” yet it
is an animal that nature seems to have endowed with
peculiar characteristics, having ordained for it a very
marked provision, manifested in its increase and main-
tenance, notwithstanding the hostile attacks to which it
is exposed. A dispensation that exists throughout
creation is brought more immediately to our notice by
the domestic habits of this bird. The natural tendency
that the sparrow has to increase will often enable one
pair of birds to bring up fourteen or more young ones
in the season. They build in places of perfect security
from the plunder of larger birds and vermin. Their
art and ingenuity in commonly attaching their nests be-
neath that of the rook, high in the elm, a bird whose
habits are perfectly dissimilar, and with which they
have no association whatever, making use of their
structure only for a defence to which no other bird re-
sorts, manifest their anxiety and contrivance for the
safety of their broods. With peculiar perseverance and
boldness, they forage and provide for themselves and
their offspring ; will filch grain from the trough of the
pig, or contend for its food with the gigantic turkey;
and, if scared away, their fears are those of a moment,
as they quickly return to their plunder ; and they roost
protected from all the injuries of weather. These cir-
cumstances tend greatly to increase the race, and in
some seasons their numbers in our corn-fields towards
autumn are prodigious ; and did not events counteract
the increase of this army of plunderers, the larger por-
tion of our bread corn would be consumed by them.
But their reduction is as rapidly accomplished as their
increase, their love of association bringing upon them
a destruction, which a contrary habit would not tempt.
They roost in troops in our ricks* in the ivy on the wall,
&c., and are captured by the net : they cluster on the
bush, or crowd on the chaff by the barn-door, and are
shot by dozens at a time, or will rush in numbers, one
following another, into the trap. These and various

N 2

THE COMMON SPARROW.

150

other engines of destruction so reduce them in the
winter season, that the swarms of autumn gradually di-
minish, till their numbers in spring are in no way re-
markable. I have called them plunderers, and they
are so; they are benefactors likewise, seeming to be
appointed by nature as one of the agents for keeping
from undue increase another race of creatures, and by
their prolificacy they accomplish it. In spring and the
early part of the summer, before the corn becomes ripe,
they are insectivorous, and their constantly increasing
families require an unceasing supply of food. We see
them every minute of the day in continual progress,
flying from the nest for a supply, and returning on rapid
wing with a grub, a caterpillar, or some reptile ; and
the numbers captured by them in the course of these
travels are incredibly numerous, keeping under the in-
crease of these races, and making ample restitution for
their plunderings and thefts. When the insect race
becomes scarce, the corn and seeds of various kinds are
ready ; their appetite changes, and they feed on these
with undiminished enjoyment.

We have scarcely another bird, the appetite of which
is so accommodating in all respects as that of the house
sparrow. It is, I believe, the only bird that is a volun-
tary inhabitant with man, lives in his society, and is
his constant attendant, following him wherever he fixes
his residence. It becomes immediately an inhabitant
of the new farm-house, in a lonely place or recent in-
closure, or even in an island, will accompany him into
the crowded city, and build and feed there in content,
unmindful of the noise, the smoke of the furnace, or
the steam-engine, where even the swallow and the mar-
ten, that flock around him in the country, are scared
by the tumult, and leave him : but the sparrow, though
begrimed with soot, does not forsake him ; feeds on his
food, rice, potatoes, or almost any other extraneous sub-
stance he may find in the street ; looks to him for his
support, and is maintained almost entirely by the in-
dustry and providence of man. It is not known in a
solitary and independent state.

Though I remember no bird so peculiarly associated

THE MOUSE AND RAT.

161

with the human race as this is, yet there are other ani-
mals that seem dependent on man for support, or at
least that find his means subservient to their comforts,
and domesticate themselves with him. The meadow
and the long-tailed mouse occasionally become foragers
in our gardens and domains, when a natural supply of
food becomes difficult of attainment, yet they are not
wholly settlers with us ; but the common mouse (mus
domesticus) resorts entirely to our premises, and seems
to exist wholly on food of our providing. In towns it
accommodates its appetite to the variety of sustenance
it finds there ; and will enjoy the preserve in the pot,
the cheese in the rack, or the pie in the pantry. In
the country it will ransack the cupboard, live in the
barn, or colonize in our ricks. Still, in all these cases,
the store and provision of man are its delight, and its
only resource; and it will even quit a residence which
is abandoned by its provider. It is true it maintains
the same love of liberty as its celebrated ancestor is
reported to have done ; but the simplicity of manners
and taste of the sage, the “ hollow tree, the oaten
straw,” have been abandoned ; it has become pleased
with household comforts, and a luxurious citizen in its
appetite.

The rat (mus rattus), too, perhaps, may be united
with these companions of mankind. Not knowing it
in an independent state, we cannot say what its resources
might be, but so sagacious and powerfully endowed
an animal could always provide for its own necessities ;
yet it prefers our provision to any precarious supply
from its own industry. In summer it partially quits our
dwellings, the heat and dryness of our buildings be-
coming irksome to it, and the occasional difficulty of
obtaining water, in which it delights, prompts it to re-
sort to hedges and banks for a certain period ; but it
always returns when our barns are filled, and ready
for it.

The house fly (musca carnaria) is another creature
that appears domesticated with us ; in some seasons a
very numerous, and always a very dirty inmate. It as-
sociates in our windows at times with a similar insect

152 USEFULNESS OF ANIMALS TO MAN.

(stomoxys calcitrans), that loves to bask on stones and
posts, and which is now biting my legs with the most
teasing perseverance. But this phlebotomist has not
the same attachment to our habitations, is a more soli-
tary insect, and does not unite in those little social
parties, that circle for hours in a sober uniformity of
flight below the ceilings of our chambers. Wherever
man appears, this house fly is generally to be seen too :
and instances are known, when islands have been
taken possession of very far removed from the main
land, that for a time no flies were visible, yet ere long
these little domestic insects have made their appearance ;
neither natives of the isle, nor can we reasonably sup-
pose them to have taken flight from a distant shore ; but
probably the offspring of parents that came with the
stores in the vessel of the party.

We may have some few other instances of these ap-
parent dependences of animals on man ; yet, if we con-
sider the relative situations of both, we shall find them
existing, with very few exceptions, independent of him,
and that he is more indebted to them for their services,
than they are for his protection and support. Man
from the earliest periods began to subject the animal
world to his dominion, and avail himself of its properties
and powers to improve his own condition. As his wants
or propensities occurred, he compelled to his aid such
animals as he could subdue, or were adapted to his pur-
poses. The chief objects for which we require the aid
of animals are for food, clothing, vigilance, and strength.
Though the two former are highly essential to our com-
forts, they are not indispensable ; the vegetable world
supplies them in abundance to large portions of the in-
habitants of the globe, and the companionable qualities,
watchfulness, and swiftness of the dog might be dis-
pensed with. It is the strength of animals that makes
us sensible of our own weakness. By their power we
build our dwellings, effect an intercourse with distant
places, obtain much of our food, and the fuel of our
hearths : a state of civilization requires, as an indispen-
sable requisite, these things and others, rendering most
manifest our obligations to the animal world. Animals

USEFULNESS OF ANIMALS TO MAN.

153

were created before man ; but some of them were ap-
parently endowed with their useful and valuable prop-
erties for his comfort and assistance ; for he had the
dominion of them consigned to him, and was commis-
sioned to subdue them. Having used their products
for food and clothing, conjointly with the fruits and
seeds of the vegetable world, and their bodies for the
carriage of his burdens, after a long age of abstinence
he began to feed on their flesh ; and they have con-
tinued his faithful and assiduous servants, contented
with their destiny, and submissive to his desires. He
gives them food and shelter in payment of service, at-
tending them with diligence and care : all this may be
for his own emolument and pleasure, yet the well-being
of the creature, had it continued wild, would not have
required it : most of them live longer, and have more
enjoyment in a wild and unreclaimed state, than when
domesticated with him. By art, and for profit, he has
in many instances altered the very nature of the animal,
and created ailments, rendering his cares and attentions
necessary, which in a state of nature are not required.
The lives of many of them, even when subjected to the
best of treatment, are consumed with labor and fatigue ;
and when their unhappy destiny consigns them to the
power of poverty and evil passions, what an accumula-
tion of misery and suffering do these wretched creatures
undergo ! If these arguments have any foundation in
truth, it will appear, that animals are not necessarily
dependent on man, and generally derive no benefit from
their intercourse and association with him ; but that, in
conformity with original appointment, they aid him to
acquire the enjoyments and accomplish the necessities
of civilized life. Yet there is one creature, that seems
designed by its natural habits to be the servant and de-
pendant of man ; and of all that fall under his dominion,
not one receives an equal portion of his care, or is more
exempt from a life of exhaustion in his service. The
dog is fed with him, housed, and caressed ; associates
with him in his pleasures, is identified with and enjoys
them with his master ; living with him, he acquires the
high bearing and freedom of his lord ; feels he is the

154

THE WHEATEAR.

companion and the friend ; deports himself as a partaker
of the importance and superiority, we might almost say
of the sorrows and pleasures of the man ; is elated with
praise, and abased by rebuke ; submissive when cor-
rected, and grateful when caressed : his anxiety and
tremor when he has lost his master, and with him him-
self, is pitiable ; when deserted by his lord, he becomes
the most forlorn of animals, a never-failing victim to
misery, famine, disease, and death. His ardor may ex-
cite him at times until overpowered by fatigue ; but he
is not generally stimulated by pain or menace to at-
tempts beyond his natural powers : view him in all his
progress, his life will be found to be an easy, and fre-
quently an enjoyable one ,* and though not exempt from
the afflictions of age, yet his death, if anticipated, be-
comes a momentary evil. When in a native state, he
is a wretched creature, a common beast of the wild,
with no innate magnanimity, no acquired virtues ; has
no elevation, no character to maintain, but passes his
days in contention and want, is base in disposition,
meager in body, a fugitive, and a coward.

The wheatear (sylvia oenanthe) frequents annually
our open commons and stone-quarries, and breeds there.
I have seen it with nesting materials in its bill, and have
had its eggs, though rarely, brought me. This bird
visits England early in the spring, and continues with
us till nearly the end of September, that is, during the
entire breeding season. Yet it is remarkable, notwith-
standing its numbers, and the little concealment which
its haunts afford, how rarely its nests are found. Its
principal place of resort is the South Downs in Sussex;
and it appears from the accounts of the most experi-
enced and credible persons of that county, from whom
I have my information, that the females are performing
their duties of incubation during the month of March ;
as at that time scarcely any but male birds are visible,
of which hundreds are then flying about; while the
females with their families appear early in May, and
are captured afterwards in great numbers ; yet the oldest
shepherds have seldom seen their nest ! When found,
it has been concealed beneath a large stone, or some

CRUELTY OF RURAL AMUSEMENTS. 155

hollow of the rugged chalk hills, containing six pale
blue eggs. With us the wheatear stays only to hatch
her brood. When this is effected, and -the young suffi-
ciently matured, it leaves us entirely, and by the middle
of September not a bird is found on their summer sta-
tions. They probably retire to the uplands on the sea-
coasts, as we hear of them as late as November in these
places, where it is supposed they find some peculiar in-
sect food, required by them in an adult state, and not
found, or only sparingly, in their breeding stations, in
which the appropriate food of their young is probably
more abundant. Thus united on the coasts, they can
take their flight, when the wind or other circumstances
favor their passage, all of them departing upon the ap-
proach of winter.

Partial as I am to the habits and all the concerns of
the country, I regret to say that rural amusements, con-
nected as they commonly are with the creatures about
us, are frequently cruel ; and that we often most incon-
siderately, in our sports, are the cause of misery and
| suffering to such as nestle around our dwellings, or fre-
| quent our fields, which, from some particular cause or
| motive, become the object of pursuit. I say nothing
. of the birds known as game, as perhaps we cannot ob-
i tain them by less painful means than we are accustomed
to inflict, and the pursuit is frequently conducive to re-
| creation and health; but the sportsman’s essaying his
skill on the swallow race, that “ skim the dimpled pool,”
or harmless glide along the flowery mead, when, if suc-
I cessful, he consigns whole nests of infant broods to
famine and to death, is pitiable indeed ! No injury, no
meditated crime, was ever imputed to these birds ; they
free our dwellings from multitudes of insects ; their
: unsuspicious confidence and familiarity with men merit
| protection not punishment from him. The sufferings
I of their broods, when the parents are destroyed, should
excite humanity, and demand our forbearance. But the
wheatear, in an unfortunate hour, has been called the
i English ortolan, and is pursued as a delicate morsel
|| through all its inland haunts, when hatching and feeding
j its young, the only period in which it frequents our

EGGS OF BIRDS.

156

heaths. I execrate the practice as most cruel : their
death evinces no skill in the gunner ; their wretched
bodies, when obtained, are useless, being embittered by
the bruises of the shot, and unskilful operations of the
picker and dresser. No, let the parental duties cease,
and when the bird retires to its maritime downs, if
doomed to suffer, the individual dies alone, and no
starving broods perish with it. I supplicate from the
youthful sportsman his consideration for these most
innocent creatures, the summer wheatear and the
swallow.

The eggs produced by the wheatear are uniform in
color and similar in shape ; but the eggs of birds in
general vary much, and are occasionally very puzzling
to identify when detached from their nests, as the color-
ings and markings differ greatly in the same species,
and even nest. Those of one color, like this wheatear’s,
retain it, with only shades of variation ; but when there
are blotchings or spots, these are at times very dissimi-
lar, occasioned in great measure probably by the age
of the bird ; though this cannot account for the differ-
ence of those in an individual nest. None vary more
than the eggs of the common sparrow. Those of marine
birds, especially the guillemot (colymbus troile), are
often so unlike each other, that it requires considerable
practice to arrange them. The plumage of birds has
probably never varied, but remains at this hour what
it originally was : but whether these markings on the
eggs have any connexion with the shadings on the
feathers, it is difficult to determine ; as we know that
eggs entirely white will produce birds with a variety of
plumage. The shell of the egg appears to be designed
for the accomplishment of two purposes. One of the
offices of this calcareous coating, which consists of car-
bonate and phosphate of lime, is to unite with the white
of the egg, and form, during incubation, the feathers
and bone of the future young ones ; but as a large por-
tion of this covering remains after the young are pro-
duced, its other object is to guard from injury the parts
within. As far as I have observed, in eggs of one hue,
the coloring matter resides in the calcareous part ; but

Fancies and superstitions. 157

where there are markings, these are rather extraneous
to it than mixed with it. The elegant blue that distin-
guishes the eggs of the firetail and the hedge-sparrow,
though corroded away, is not destroyed by the muriatic
acid. The blue calcareous coating of the thrush’s egg
is consumed ; but the dark spots, like the markings
upon the eggs of the yellow-hammer, house-sparrow,
magpie, &c., still preserve their stations on the film,
though loosened and rendered mucilaginous by this
rough process. Though this calcareous matter is partly
taken up during incubation, the markings upon these
eggs remain little injured, even to the last, and are
almost as strongly defined as when the eggs are first
laid. These circumstances seem to imply, that the
coloring matter on the shells of eggs does not contribute
to the various hues of the plumage ; but, it is reasonable
to conclude, are designed to answer some particular
object, not obvious to us : for though the marks are so
variable, yet the shadings and spottings-of one species
never wander so as to become exactly figured like those
of another family, but preserve, year after year, a cer-
tain characteristic figuring. Few animal substances, in
a recent states contain more hepatic gas than an egg-
shell, as is manifest from the very offensive smell that
proceeds from it when burned. A little of this is caused
by the gluten that cements the calcareous matter, but
the overpowering fetor comes from the inner membrane
that lines the shell.

The superstitions and fancies of persons, though we
may often contemn them, are yet at times deserving of
notice, being occasionally to be traced to some former
received belief or national custom, and perhaps when
charactered by emblems or ceremonies may be consid-
ered as certainly originating from the tenets of some
sect or popular observance ; the partiality manifested
by the English in general for flowers and horticultural
pursuits is recently, from a sentence in Pliny (Nat.
Hist. XIV. chap. 4), supposed to have been acquired
from their Roman conquerors ; and probably many other
attachments and practices, though obscured and per-
verted by time, have been retained from the example

THE KITE.

158

of some of the various nations who have ruled in our
islands Bird-nesting boys, I suppose, are yet to be met
with in many a rural village, being a habit from imme-
morial antiquity, pursued with eagerness in contention
with their fellows for numbers and rarity, but that ac-
complished, like so many of our pursuits in after-life,
the pleasure ceases when rivalry is no more : but re-
garding these birds’ eggs we have a very foolish super-
stition here ; the boys may take them unrestrained, but
their mothers so dislike their being kept in the house,
that they usually break them ; their presence may be
tolerated for a few days, but by the ensuing Sunday are
frequently destroyed, under the idea that they bring
bad luck, or prevent the coming of good fortune, as if
in some way offensive to the domestic deity of the
hearth : having occasionally inquired for these plunders
of our small birds at the cottages, to supply some defi-
ciencies in a collection, I have found so general a pre-
possession against retaining them, as in most cases to
fail of success.

The kite (falco milvus) is one of our rarest birds.
We see it occasionally, in its progress to other parts,
sailing along sedately on its way ; but it never visits us.
Our copses present it with no enticing harborage, and
our culture scares it. In former years I was intimately
acquainted with this bird ; but its numbers seem greatly
on the decline, having been destroyed, or driven away
to lonely places, or to the most extensive woodlands.
In the breeding season it will at times approach near
the outskirts of villages, seeking materials for its nest ;
but in general it avoids the haunts of man. It is the
finest native bird that we possess, and all its deportment
partakes of a dignity peculiar to itself, well becoming
a denizen of the forest or the park ; for though we see
it sometimes in company with the buzzard, it is never
to be mistaken for this clumsy bird, which will escape
from the limb of some tree, with a confused and hurried
flight, indicative of fear ; while the kite moves steadily
from the summit of the loftiest oak, the scathed crest
of the highest poplar, or the most elevated ash — circles
round and round, sedate and calm, and then leaves us.

THE BLACKCAP.

159

I can confusedly remember a very extraordinary cap-
ture of these birds, when I was a boy. Roosting one
winter evening on some very lofty elms, a fog came on
during the night, which froze early in the morning, and
fastened the feet of the poor kites so firmly to the
boughs, that some adventurous youths brought down, I
think, fifteen of them so secured ! Singular as the cap-
ture was, the assemblage of so large a number was not
less so, it being in general a solitary bird, or associating
only in pairs.

The blackcap (motacilla atracapilla) is our constant
visitor, but very uncertain in its numbers, as it fully
participates in all the casualties of our migratory tribes ;
not by any great diminution probably in its winter resi-
dence, but by loss in its transits of autumn or spring.
We have years when every little copse resounds with
harmony ; at other periods, only a few solitary song-
sters are to be heard ; and the blackcap is the principal
performer in the band of our domestic vocalists. In
the scale of music it is the third for mellowness, and
the third perhaps too for execution and compass. As
this melody, however, continues only during the period
of incubation, we hear it but for a short time ; for this
bird wastes no time in amusements, appearing to be in
great haste to accomplish the object of its visit, and to
depart. Thus, immediately upon its arrival, we observe
it surveying and inspecting places fitting for nidification,
and commencing a nest ; but so careful and suspicious
is it, that several are often abandoned before finished,
from some apprehension or caprice : any intrusion is
jealously noticed ; and during the whole period of sitting
and rearing its young, it is timid and restless. I have
observed that both birds will occasionally perform the
office of incubation.

It seems to live entirely by choice on fruits ; and as
soon as the brood can remove, it visits our gardens,
feeding with delight and almost insatiable appetite on
the currant and the raspberry ; and so much is it en-
gaged when at this banquet, that it suffers itself to be
looked at, and forgets for the moment its usual timidity :
but its natural shyness never leaves it entirely; and

THE BLACKCAP.

160

though it remains in our gardens or orchards as long as
any of its favorite fruits continue, it avoids observation
as much as possible, and hides itself in the foliage from
all familiarity or confidence* This exceeding dislike
of man is very extraordinary. Larger or more important
birds might have an instinctive fear of violence; but
this creature is too small and insignificant to have ever
experienced or to apprehend injuries from him. It may
arise from a long residence in wilds and solitary places,
seldom visited by human beings, during those eight or
nine months when it is absent from us, so that man be-
comes an unknown creature, and injury is suspected.
Our native small birds, that reside all the year with us,
and see us often, though they may retire at our near
approach, do not exhibit such shyness and avoidance as
several of our migrating birds. The gray flycatcher,
and the swallow tribe, which seek their food, we con-
clude, all the year near the dwellings of man, where
most abundantly found, manifest familiarity with us
rather than dislike, are accustomed to the sight of
human beings, and do not fear them; but whatever
may be the cause that influences the precipitate retreat
of certain birds, we note the original mandate, and see
that the “ fear of us, and the dread of us,” are still in
operation with many of these little “ fowls of the air,”
that would never receive harm from our hands. The
blackcap finishes its feast here with the jargonel pear,
when it can meet with it, then leaves us for other fruits
and milder climes.

“ And the fear of you, and the dread of you, shall
be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl
of the air, and upon all that moveth upon the earth.”
This vesture of universal dread, which was to envelop
man, though appointed from the beginning of time, has
never been removed, but most signally and remarkably
attaches to him still*. It was ordained to be so ; and so
it is. In some few instances only does this awe of man
subside : in extreme cases of want, for individual
preservation, or when protection is required. In such
cases, the fear or sensibility of pain, love of life, or a
paramount duty, becomes the stronger principle, anni-

ALL OTHER CREATURES AFRAID OF MAN. 161

hilating the weaker ; and the dread of man’s supremacy
is no more. The weakest, the very insect, then assails
him, and at times becomes the victor. Does any com
ceivable or visible cause exist from which this awe can
proceed ? Does “ his sublime countenance, contem-
plative of the heavens,” the image that he bears, or his
deportment, afford any ascendent influence productive
of this impression ? In bodily power he is more weak
and obnoxious to injury than many that shrink from a
contest with him ; his natural arms and means of pro-
tection are inferior often to those of the beings which
he subdues ; yet from an undefinable cause he is om-
nipotent over all. Terror in man most commonly arises
from a knowledge of power, apprehension of ills from
accident, or fear of the evil inclinations of another.
What the fowls of the air, or the beasts of the field per-
ceive, or are impressed with, we know not ; but none
of these causes can exist in a brute mind without in-
telligence or experience. These are the reflections of a
thoughtful hour. The cause, “ though a man labor to
seek out, yet shall he not find it ; and though a man
think to know it, yet shall he not be able.” But the
contemplation is not wholly an unworthy occupation of
time. All ages, all people, must have perceived the
admitted power and universal dread occasioned by the
presence of man, but no reason, no motive, could have
been assigned for it ; but in these days, by revelation,
we know the cause, have impressed upon our minds the
immutable truth of that Being which ordained, and of
that volume which has proclaimed his mandate to us.
But man has the power assigned him of calling to his
aid a visible object of dread, confided to him from the
earliest periods; and he alone of all created beings has
the agency of this terror. All the inferior orders have a
fear of it, and flee from it, even when its effects could
never have been known or experienced, but which ap-
pears to be innate and inseparable from all. Man alone
has the knowledge, the means of calling heat into ac-
tion ; and though warmth is the delight, and essential
to the being of most, yet, rouse it into active operation
producing fire, and terror and flight succeed enjoyment

O 2

FOREIGN BIRDS.

162

and rest : it deters the approach of the most ferocious^
and man and his charge abide unharmed when sur-
rounded by the terror he has raised. In addition to the
many characters given as a definition of man, we might
call him a fire-producing creature.

The end of our summer months, and the autumnal
season, afford us frequently the best periods for observ-
ing some of our occasional visiting birds. Upon their first
arrival, and for a time afterwards, their notes announce
their presence ; but they are not always to be seen with
satisfaction, and scattered in retired places, or occupied
in the business of incubation, when they are particularly
wary and suspicious, they are but casually noticed : but
in the times above stated, our gardens, shrubberies, and
orchards, become their resort, seeking for the fruits
usually produced in those places. And, first, the petty-
chaps, with all her matured brood, is certain to be
found, feeding voraciously upon our cultivated berries,
or mining a hole in the fig or jargonel pear ; and so in-
tent are they upon this occupation, that they will permit
a reasonable examination of their form and actions, but
at other periods it is difficult to approach them. The
blackcap discontentedly flits about our inclosures and
thickets all the summer through, building her nest or
tending her young ; the fine clear harmony of the male
bird resounding in the morning from the brake, yet,
timid and alarmed, he ceases and hides himself if we
approach : but he now introduces all his progeny to our
banquet ; cautious still, we can yet observe his actions,
and easily distinguish the black or brown heads of the
sexes, as they are occupied beneath the foliage of an
Antwerp raspberry. The white-throats, now, too, leave
their hedges, and all their insect food, which for months
had been their only supply, and in the thick covert of
the gooseberry extract with great dexterity the pulp of
the fruit, or strip the currant of its berry. The elegant,
slender form of the female, her snowy throat and silvery
stomach, render her very conspicuous as she scuttles
away to hide herself in the bush : her plain, brown-
backed mate seems rather less timid, but yet carefully
avoids all symptoms of familiarity. Other doubtful littlq

ANIMAL INSTINCT.

163

birds likewise appear, and are gone, several of which,
however, are probably the young of ascertained species.
And here the little willow-wren is often to be seen : he
comes in company with his travelling friends, not as a
partaker of their plunder, appearing never to abandon
his appetite for insect food : the species may change
with the season, but still it is animal : he glides about
our rows of peas, peeps under the leaves of fruit trees
for aphides and moths, continuing this harmless pursuit
until the cold mornings of autumn drive him to milder
regions. All these fruit-eating birds seem to have a
very discriminating taste, and a decided preference for
the richest sorts — the sweetest variety of the gooseberry
or the currant always being selected ; and when they
are consumed, less saccharine dainties are submitted to:
but the hedge blackberry of the season our little foreign
connoisseurs disdain to feed on, leaving it for the hum-
bler appetited natives— they are away to sunnier regions
and more grateful food.

June 14. — I was much pleased this day by detecting
the stratagems of a common wren to conceal its nest
from observation. It had formed a hollow space in the
thatch, on the inside of my cow-shed, in which it had
placed its nest by the side of a rafter, and finished it
with its usual neatness ; but lest the orifice of its cell
should engage attention, it had negligently hung a
ragged piece of moss on the straw-work, concealing the
entrance, and apparently proceeding from the rafter;
and so perfect was the deception, that I should not have
noticed it, though tolerably observant of such things,
had not the bird betrayed her secret, and darted out.
Now from what operative cause did this stratagem pro-
ceed ? Habit it was not ;• — it seemed like an after-
thought;— danger was perceived, and the contrivance
which a contemplative being would have provided, was
resorted to. The limits of instinct we cannot define : #

* I know not any definition of what we term “ animal instinct ” more
comprehensive and accordant with truth than the following, given
in the Elements of Etymology by Messrs. Kirby and Spence. “ With-
out pretending to give a logical definition of it, (instinct,) which,
while we are ignorant of the essence of reason, is impossible, we

EARLY AWAKENING OF BIRDS.

164

it appeared the reflection of reason. This procedure
may be judged, perhaps, a trifling event to notice ; but
the ways and motives of creatures are so little under-
stood, that any evidence which may assist our research
should not be rejected. Call their actions as we may,
they have the effect of reason; and loving all the
manners and operations of these directed beings, I
have noted this, simple as it may be.

At one period of my life, being an early waker and
riser, my attention was frequently drawn to “ songs of
earliest birds ; ” and I always observed that these crea-
tures appeared abroad at very different periods as the
light advanced. The rook is perhaps the first to salute
the opening morn ; but this bird seems rather to rest
than to sleep. Always vigilant, the least alarm after re-
tirement rouses instantly the whole assemblage, not
successively, but collectively. It is appointed to be a
ready mover. Its principal food is worms, which feed
and crawl upon the humid surface of the ground in the
dusk, and retire before the light of day ; and, roosting
higher than other birds, the first rays of the sun, as
they peep from the horizon, become visible to it. The
restless, inquisitive robin now is seen too. This is the
last bird that retires in the evening, being frequently
flitting about when the owl and bat are visible, and
awakes so soon in the morning, that little rest seems
required by it. Its fine large eyes are fitted to receive
all, even the weakest rays of light that appear. The
worm is its food too, and few that move upon the surface
escape its notice. The cheerful melody of the wren is
the next we hear, as it bustles from its ivied roost ; and
we note its gratulation to the young-eyed day, when
twilight almost hides the little minstrel from our sight.
The sparrow roosts in holes, and under the eaves of the
rick or shed, where the light does not so soon enter, and

may call the instincts of animals those unknown faculties implanted
in their constitutions by the Creator, by which, independent of in-
struction, observation, or experience, and without a knowledge of the
end in view’, they are impelled to the performance of certain actions
tending to the well-being of the individual, and preservation of the
species.”

THE EARLY MORNING.

165

hence is rather a tardy mover ; but it is always ready
for food, and seems to listen to what is going forward.
We see it now peeping from its penthouse, inquisitively
surveying the land ; and, should provision be obtainable,
it immediately descends upon it without any scruple,
and makes itself a welcome guest with all. It retires
early to rest. The blackbird quits its leafy roost in the
ivied ash; its “chink, chink” is heard in the hedge
and, mounting on some neighboring oak, with mellow,
sober voice it gratulates the coming day. “ The plain -
song cuckoo gray” from some tall tree now tells its tale.
The lark is in the air, the “ marten twitters from her
earth-built shed,” all the choristers are tuning in the
grove ; and amid such tokens of awakening pleasure it
becomes difficult to note priority of voice. These are
the matin voices of the summer season : in winter a
cheerless chirp, or a hungry twit, is all we hear ; the
families of voice are away, or silent ; we have little to
note, and perhaps as little inclination to observe.

During no portion of the day can the general opera-
tions of nature be more satisfactorily observed than in
the early morning. Rosy June— the very thoughts of
an early summer’s morning in the country, like en-
chantment, gives action to the current of our blood,
and seems to breathe through our veins a stream of
health and enjoyment ! All things appear fresh and un-
soiled; the little birds, animated and gratulous, are
frisking about the sprays ; others, proceeding to their
morning’s meal, or occupied in the callings of their
nature, give utterance by every variety of voice to the
pleasures that they feel : the world has not yet called
us, and with faculties unworn, we unite with them,
partake of this general hilarity and joy, feel disposed
to be happy, and enjoy the blessings around us : the
very air itself, as yet uninhaled by any, circulates about
us replete with vitality, conveying more than its usual
portion of sustenance and health, “ and man goeth forth
unto his labor.” Night-feeding creatures, feeling the
j freshness of light, and the coming day, are all upon the
move, retiring from danger and observation ; and we
|| can note them now unhidden in their lairs, unconcealed

THE GOLDFINCH.

166

beneath the foliage in the hedge : the very vegetation*
bathed in dew and moisture, full fed, partakes of this
early morning joy and health, and every creeping thing
is refreshed and satisfied. As day advances, it changes
all ; and of these happy beings of the early hour, part
are away, and we must seek them; others are oppressed,
silent, listless ; the vegetable, no longer lucid with dew,
and despoiled of all the little gems that glittered from
every serrature of its leaf, seems pensive at the loss.
When blessed with health, having peace, innocence,
and content, as inmates of the mind, perhaps the most
enjoyable hours of life may be found in an early sum-
mer’s morning.

Oct. 9. — A brilliant morning! warm, without oppres-
sion ; exhilarating, without chilling. Imagination can-
not surely conceive, or caprice wish for an atmospheric
temperature more delightful than what this day affords ;
having mingled with it just that portion of vital air
which brisks up animality, without consuming the sus-
tenance of life ; satisfying the body with health, and
filling the heart with gratitude. Fine threads of gossa-
mer float lazily along the air, marking by this peculiar
feature the autumn of our year. On our commons, and
about our thistly hedge-rows, flocks of goldfinches
(fringilla carduelis), the united produce of the summer
months, are sporting and glistening in the sunny beam,
scattering all over the turf the down of the thistle, as
they pick out the seed for their food. But this beauti-
ful native has only a few short weeks in which it will
have liberty to enjoy society and life. Our bird-catchers
will soon entrap it ; and of those that escape his toils,
few will survive to the spring, should our winter prove
a severe one. Long as I have noticed this bird, it has
appeared to me that it never makes any plants generally
its food, except those of the syngenesia class, and on
these it diets nearly the whole year. In the spring sea-
son it picks out the seeds from the fir cones. During
the winter months it very frequently visits our gardens,
feeding on the seeds of the groundsel (senecio vul-
garis), which chiefly abounds in cultivated places, and
vegetates there throughout the coldest seasons. This,

FOOD OF THE GOLDFINCH.

167

however, is an humble plant ; and when covered by the
snow, the poor birds are half famished for want. We
then see them striving to satisfy their hunger by picking
some solitary green head of the plant remaining above
the frozen snow, and so tame, that they will suffer a
very near approach before they take flight. As the
frost continues, our little garden visitors diminish daily,
and by spring only a few pairs remain of all the flocks
of autumn. Yet it is very remarkable, notwithstanding
this natural predilection, how readily this bird conforms
to a perfect change in its diet, and in all the habits of
its life. Most of our little songsters, when captured
as old birds, become in confinement sullen and dis-
pirited ,* want of exercise, and of particular kinds of
food, and their changes, alter the quality of the fluids :
they become fattened, and indisposed to action by re-
pletion ; fits and ailments ensue, and they mope and
die. But I have known our goldfinch, immediately
after its capture, commence feeding on its canary or
hemp-seed, food it could never have tasted before, nib-
ble his sugar in the wires like an enjoyment it had been
accustomed to, frisk round its cage, and dress its plu-
mage, without manifesting the least apparent regret for
the loss of companions or of liberty. Harmless to the
labors or the prospects of us lords of the creation, as so
many of our small birds are, we have none less charge-
able with the commission of injury than the goldfinch ;
yet its blameless, innocent life does not exempt it from
harm. Its beauty, its melody, and its early reconcilia-
tion to confinement, rendering it a desirable companion,
| it is captured to cheer us with its manners and its voice,
in airs and regions very different from its native thistly
downs, and apple-blossom bowers.

The tree-creeper (certhia familiaris) is as little ob-
served as any common bird we possess. A retired in-
i habitant of woods and groves, and not in any manner
conspicuous for voice or plumage, it passes its days with
| us, creating scarcely any notice or attention. Its small
size, and the manner m which it procures its food, both
tend to secrete him from sight. It feeds entirely on
I small insects, which it seeks between the crevices in

THE TREE-CREEPER.

168

the bark of trees, or under the mosses and lichens that
invest their limbs. In these pursuits its actions are
more like those of a mouse than of a bird, darting like
a great moth from tree to tree, uttering a faint trilling
sound as it fixes on their boles, running round them in
a spiral direction, when with repeated wriggles having
gained the summit, it darts to another, and commences
again ; and so intent is it on the object of pursuit, and
unsuspicious of harm, that I have seen it swept from
the tree with a stick. Mr. Pennant thinks that it retires
into milder regions upon the advance of winter; but
many certainly remain with us. In the early part of
the spring, when food is comparatively scarce in the
woods, it will frequent the mossy trees in our orchards
and gardens ; but after a very short examination of
them, is away to its usual retirements, seeking no
familiarity with us, notwithstanding the social epithet
it has obtained. This little creature is observed in no
great numbers ; yet its actions and manners seem to be
such as would tend to its increase. The female lays
eight or nine eggs ; it roosts securely in the holes of
large trees; and from its manner of feeding, and the
places it inhabits, it can scarcely be destroyed by birds
of prey ; yet, from some counteracting cause, our little
certhia, instead of increasing, apparently becomes a
scarcer bird. The limits that are appointed to the in-
crease of all the inferior orders of creation are very
worthy of remark. There may be periods when a great
augmentation of individual species takes place ; but this
circumstance is local, or temporary, and future numbers
do not result from it. Some motive for the increase, no
doubt, existed ; but, the object being accomplished, it
ceases, and apparent events, or imperceptible causes,
reduce the profusion of the race, so that certain num-
bers only continue. This little tree-creeper, though al-
ways active, seems to possess most animation and rest-
lessness in the autumnal months.

The yellow wagtail (motacilla flava) is so regularly
seen with us in his season, as to be quite a common
bird, breeding in our fields ; yet generally observed as
he is, he always invites our attention, by his graceful

THE YELLOW WAGTAIL.

109

form and brilliant plumage, either actively running in
our path, or sporting in the pastures with that animation
and ease so remarkable in all this family, that we may
justly distinguish them as the gentles of our fields.
With manners and habits similar to the common gray
ones, yet there seems to be but little intimate associa-
tion between the species ; and though they are occa-
sionally intermixed, we most commonly observe them
feeding by themselves and frolicking with their own
particular race. In autumn, when their broods are
united with them, they assemble in large parties towards
the evening preparatory to their nightly roost, selecting
low spreading bushes hanging over the pool, or as near
the water as they can, and thus become secured from
capture by nocturnal vermin. Being in full beauty at
this time, the fine yellow breasts of the male birds ren-
der them very conspicuous as they glance about the dry
bents of the pasture. Autumn advancing, we lose
these flights ; but now and then a single bird will ap-
pear in one of those occasional bright sunny days that
even winter will produce, looking like some deserted
straggler who has lost its passage, or from some other
cause remaining with us, chasing the gnat on the mar-
gin of the sheltered pool, and then, when the sunny
ray passes away, he departs with it, is hidden we know
not where, supported by means we are not acquainted
with, till another partial gleam allures him from retire-
ment. In April, the flights once more appear with all
the fine feather and freshness of autumnal birds, run-
ning about the furrows in arable fields, and catching
the insects disturbed by«the plow in its progress. Soon
building their nest, and attending their families, they
become bleached by the sun and rain of the season, and
remain shabby for weeks. Though they may follow
the course of the swallow ahd other migrating birds,
yet their peculiar manner of flight seems to preclude
long-continued exertion ; noLsailing and poising in air
like the hirundines and others, but proceeding by jerks,
by risings and sinkings, which at every pause require
muscular action to set them in progress anew, which for
any length of time could hardly be continued. It is

P

THE YELLOW WAGTAIL.

170

probable that their migrations are not very remote. The
mode of life assigned to these creatures requires great
activity of body ; for living solely upon insects and
winged animals, they are constantly capturing or pur-
suing ; and their length of tail, which is perpetually in
motion, seems to aid and balance the operations of the
body. In the evening, when the winged creatures are
at rest, or, from the state of the atmosphere, in repose,
the wagtail resorts to the pastures, feeding under the
very bodies and noses of the cattle, who now become
the starters of his game, which, moving from the ani-
mal, are captured by the bird. Being drowsy, and
settling almost as soon as disturbed, their prey would
escape, was the wagtail less nimble in his actions— for
he does not appear to perceive the insect, except when
it moves. How differently formed is this bird and the
gray flycatcher ! Though both are solely insectivorous,
yet they secure their prey by very distinct means, the
latter seldom capturing on the ground or using his legs
in pursuit ; the other uses actively his slender legs and
extended wings to aid him. The swallow race, again,
feed unlike them both, and haunting the pool, the
stream, the mead, or the higher regions of the air,
which his fraternity possess as a peculiar domain, satisfy
their wants in peace, without collision or contention
for the object.

Admirably adapted to the requirements of each crea-
ture as their dispositions and institutions are known to
be, yet their peculiar modes of dieting, or inclination
for particular food, and formation of the organs that
digest it, should not be utterly* unheeded, because by
these appointments of Omniscience, abundance is pro-
duced for every race of created things in all places,
without variance or unfitting exertions to procure it.
Could we unite into one district a human being from
every square mile upon the surface of the globe, un-
shackled by bigotry or the tenets of any faith, they
probably, without reluctance, having the means, might
feed upon and be nourished by one natural diet— we
will say the flesh of the ox, with potatoes or rice —
but this is by no means the case with the inferior ani-

RAPACIOUS BIRDS.

171

mals. Most of them, having different conformations
and inclinations, are supported by variety of diet ; by
which means every station and place is made an abode,
and maintains its inhabitants, for the “ Creator hath
opened his hand, and filled all things living with plen-
teousness.”

As a brief note, not a disquisition, upon the subject,
is designed, we will pass over the habits and disposi-
tions of beasts and insects, strongly charactered as they
are, and only instance a few of our land-birds, as af-
fording the most familiar instances ; and we shall find
that it is not the genera only, but the individuals which
compose them in many instances, that are supported by
different aliment. And first, those birds which we de-
nominate as Rapacious, such as falcons, hawks, owls,
live upon animal food which they capture, kill, and
devour ; abstaining, unless stimulated by necessity,
from creatures they may find dead. Then come the
pies : of these, the raven and crow likewise eat animal
food, but it is generally such as has been killed by vio-
lence or ceased to exist, only in cases of want* killing
for themselves. The rook, the daw, the magpie, con-
sume worms, grubs, and are not addicted, except from
hunger, to eating other animal matters. The two first
feed at times in society ; the latter associates with nei-
ther, but feeds in places remote from such as are fre-
quented by them. The jay too eats grubs and such
things, but seeks them out under hedges, in coverts and
places which others of his kind abandon to him. The
| cuckoo seems principally to live upon the eggs of birds,
with a few insects and larvae occasionally ; the wryneck
upon emmets, from heaps under hedges near conceal-
ment— the woodpeckers upon insects found upon trees ;
|l and when they seek for the emmet, they prefer the ant-

* The crow in the spring, when food is difficult of attainment, will
kill young pigeons ; and the magpie having young ones, captures
the new hatches of our domestic poultry : but these are cases of ne-
I cessity rather than habit. The raven has a decided inclination for
the eyes of creatures, and finding lambs in a weak state, immediately
plucks them out, and when the animal is recently dead, commences
his depredations upon these parts.

PASSERINE BIRDS.

172

heaps of commons and open places ; — the halcyon upon
small fishes : — thus all these creatures, even when they
require similar aliment, diet at their separate boards.
Of the Gallinaceous birds, the wood-grouse is supported
by the young shoots of the pine in his forests ; but the
black and red grouse live upon berries found on the
moor, the seeds and tops of the heath ; the partridge
upon seeds in the field, blades of grass or of corn ; the
pheasant upon mast, acorns, berries from the hedge or
the brake. The bustard is content to live upon worms
alone, found in early morning upon downs and wide ex-
tended plains, where none dispute his right or compete
with him, but one species of plover. The doves make
their principal meals in open fields, upon green herbage
and seeds. The stare again feeds upon worms and in-
sects, but in places remote from the bustard, nor does
he contend with the rook, or the daw, but takes his
meat and is away.

The Passerine birds, indeed, are remarkably dissimi-
lar in their manner of feeding. The missel-thrush will
have berries from the mistletoe, or seeks for insects and
slugs in wild and open places, the heath or the down.
The songthrush makes his meal from the snail on the
bank, or worm from the paddock ; but the blackbird,
though associating with him, leaves the snails, content-
ing himself with worms from the hedge-side, or berries
from the brier or the bush. The fieldfare consumes
worms in the mead or haws from the hedge. The
cross-bill will have seeds from the apple, or cone of the
fir — the green-finch, seeds from the uplands, or door of
barn, or rick-yard. The bunting is peculiarly gifted
with a bony knob in the roof of his bill, upon which
he breaks down the hard seeds he is destined to feed
upon. The bullfinch selects buds from trees and bushes.
The goldfinch is nurtured by thistle seeds, or those of
other syngenesious plants. Sparrows feed promiscu-
ously. Linnets shell out seeds from the cherlock, or
the rape, or the furze on the common. One lark will
feed in the corn-fields, another in the mead, another in
the woodlands — one tit-mouse upon insects frequenting
the alder and willow ; some upon those which are hid-

PASSERINE BIRDS.

173

den under mosses, and lichens on large trees ; a third
upon coleopterous creatures, secreted in the hedge-row
and the coppice. The gray wagtail finds food with us all
the year ; but the yellow one must seek it in other
regions. The nightingale diets upon a peculiar grub,
and when that is not found in the state he prefers, he
departs. The domestic swallow feeds round our houses,
or in the meadow ; but the bank swallow never comes
near us, chases his food beneath the crag, and along the
stream. The swift prefers the higher ranges of the air,
dieting upon the flies that mount into those regions.
The goatsucker does not notice the creatures of the
day, capturing the moths and dorrs of the night. The
wheatear feeds only upon such insects as he finds upon
fallow lands, the down or the heath ; and thus almost
every individual might be characterized by some pro-
pensity of appetite, by some mode or place of feeding ;
and hence individuals are found as tenants of the home-
stead, the wild, the stream, the air, rock, down, and
grove — in every place finding plenty, and fulfilling their
destination without rivalry or contention : nor perhaps
is there any race of creatures that associates more inno-
cently, or passes their lives more free from bickering
and strife, than these our land-birds do, persevering, from
period to period, with undeviating habits and propen-
sities, manifesting an original appointment and fixed
design of Providence, whose bounteous table, wherever
we look around, is spread for all, and good things meted
out to each by justice, weight, and measure.

I am neither inclined to seek after, nor desirous of
detailing, the little annoyances that these wildings of
nature, in their hard struggles for existence,, may occa-
sionally produce ; being fully persuaded that the petty
injuries we sometimes sustain from birds are at others
fully compensated by their services. We too often,
perhaps, notice the former, while the latter are remote,
or not obtrusive. I was this day (Jan. 25) led to reflect
upon the extensive injury that might be produced by
the agency of a very insignificant instrument, in ob-
serving the operations of the common bunting (emberiza
miliaris) ; a bird that seems to live principally, if not

P 2

174 OLD TOKENS OF WIND AND WEATHER

entirely, upon seeds, and has its mandibles constructed
in a very peculiar manner, to aid this established ap-
pointment of its life. In the winter season it will fre-
quent the stacks in the farm-yard, in company with
others, to feed upon any corn that may be found scatter-
ed about; but, little inclined to any association with
man, it prefers those situations which are most lonely
and distant from the village. It could hardly be supposed
that this bird, not larger than a lark, is capable of doing
serious injury ; yet I this morning witnessed a rick of
barley, standing in a detached field, entirely stripped of
its thatching, which this bunting effected by seizing the
end of the straw, and deliberately drawing it out, to
search for any grain the ear might yet contain ; the base
of the rick being entirely surrounded by the straw, one
end resting on the ground, the other against the mow,
as it slid down from the summit, and regularly placed
as if by the hand ; and so completely was the thatching
pulled off, that the immediate removal of the corn be-
came necessary. The sparrow and other birds burrow
into the stack, and pilfer the corn ; but the deliberate
operation of unroofing the edifice appears to be the
habit of this bunting alone.

Old simplicities, tokens of winds and weather, and
the plain observances of rural life, are everywhere
waning fast to decay. Some of them may have been
fond conceits; but they accorded with the ordinary
manners of the common people, and marked times,
seasons, and things, with sufficient truth for those who
had faith in them. Little as we retain of these obsolete
fancies, we have not quite abandoned them all ; and
there are yet found among our peasants, a few who
mark the blooming of the large white lily (lilium can-
didum), and think that the number of its blossoms on a
stem will indicate the price of wheat by the bushel for
the ensuing year, each blossom equivalent to a shilling.
We expect a sunny day, too, when the pimpernel (ana-
gallis arvensis) fully expands its blossoms ; a dubious,
or a moist one, when they are closed. In this belief,
however, we have the sanction of some antiquity to
support us; Sir F. Bacon records it; Gerarde notes it

DERIVED FROM BIRDS AND FLOWERS. 175

as a common opinion entertained by country people
above two centuries ago ; and I must not withhold my
own faith in its veracity, but say that I believe this
pretty little flower to afford more certain indication of
dryness or moisture in the air, than any of our hygrom-
eters do. But if these be fallible criterions, we will
notice another, that seldom deceives us. The approach
of a sleety snow-storm, following a deceitful gleam in
spring, is always announced to us by the loud untune-
ful voice of the missel thrush (turdus viscivorus), as it
takes its stand on some tall tree, like an enchanter
calling up the gale. It seems to have no song, no voice,
but this harsh predictive note ; and it in great measure
ceases with the storms of spring. We hear it occasion-
ally in autumn, but its voice is not then the prognostic
of any change of weather. The missel-thrush is a wild
and wary bird, keeping generally in open fields and
commons, heaths, and unfrequented places, feeding upon
worms and insects. In severe weather it approaches
our plantations and shrubberies, to feed on the berry
of the mistletoe, the ivy, or the scarlet fruit of the
holly or the yew ; and should the redwing or the field-
fare presume to partake of these with it, we are sure to
hear its voice in clattering and contention with the in-
truders, until it drives them from the place, though it
watches and attends, notwithstanding, to its own safety.
In April it begins to prepare its nest. This is large and
so openly placed, as would, if built in the copse, in-
fallibly expose it to the plunder of the magpie and the
crow, which at this season prey upon the eggs of every
nest they can find. To avoid this evil, it resorts to our
gardens and our orchards, seeking protection from man,
near whose haunts those rapacious plunderers are care-
ful of approaching; yet they will at times attempt to
seize upon its eggs even there, when the thrush attacks
them and drives them away with a hawklike fury ; and
the noisy warfare of the contending parties occasionally
draws our attention to them. The call of the young
birds to their parents for food is unusually disagreeable,
and reminds us of the croak of a frog. The brood being
reared, it becomes again a shy and wild creature* aban-

176 LOVE OF OFFSPRING IN BIRDS.

dons our homesteads, and returns to its solitudes and
heaths.

The extraordinary change of character which many
creatures exhibit, from timidity to boldness and rage,
from stupidity to art and stratagem, for the preservation
of a helpless offspring, seems to be an established ordi-
nation of Providence, actuating in various degrees most
of the races of animated beings ; and we have few ex-
amples of this influencing principle more obvious than
this of the missel bird, in which a creature addicted to
solitude and shyness will abandon its haunts, and asso-
ciate with those it fears, to preserve its offspring from
an enemy more merciless and predaceous still. The
love of offspring, one of the strongest impressions given
to created beings, and inseparable from their nature, is
ordained by the Almighty as the means of preservation
under helplessness and want. Dependent, totally de-
pendent as is the creature, for every thing that can
contribute to existence and support, upon the great
Creator of all things, so are new-born feebleness and
blindness dependent upon the parent that produced
them; and to the latter is given intensity of love, to
overbalance the privations and sufferings required from
it. This love, that changes the nature of the timid and
gentle to boldness and fury, exposes the parent to injury
and death, from which its wiles and cautions do not
always secure it ; and in man the avarice of possession
will at times subdue his merciful and better feelings.
Beautifully imbued with celestial justice and humanity
as all the ordinations which the Israelites received in
the wilderness were, there is nothing more impressive,
nothing more accordant with the divinity of our nature,
than the particular injunctions which were given in
respect to showing mercy to the maternal creature
cherishing its young, when by reason of its parental
regard it might be placed in danger. The eggs, the
offspring, were allowed to be taken; but “thou shalt
in anywise let the dam go;” “thou shalt not, in one
day, kill both an ewe and her young.” The ardent affec-
tion, the tenderness, with which I have filled the parent,
is in no way to lead to its injury or destruction : and

THE JACK SNIPE.

177

this is enforced, not by command only, not by the
threat of punishment and privation, but by the assurance
of temporal reward, by promise of the greatest bless-
ings that can be found on earth, length of days and
prosperity.

The jack snipe (scolopax gallinula) is with us here,
as I have always known it, a transitory visitor in the
winter only — a solitary, unsocial bird — an anchorite
from choice. With the exception of our birds of prey,
the manner of whose existing requires it, and a few
others, all the feathered tribe seem to have a general
tendency towards association, either in flocks, family
parties, or pairs; but the individuals of this species
pass a large portion of their lives retired and alone,
two of them being rarely, or perhaps never, found in
company, except in the breeding season. They are
supposed to pair and raise their young in the deep
marshy tracts or reedy districts of the fen-counties,
which afford concealment from every prying eye, and
safety from all common injuries. Driven by the frosts
of winter from these watery tracts, their summer’s cov-
ert, they separate, and seek for food in more favored
situations, preferring a little, lonely, open spring, trick-
ling from the side of a hill, tangled with grass and foli-
age, or some shallow, rushy streamlet in a retired val-
ley. Having fixed on such a place, they seldojm aban-
i don it long, or quit it for another ; and though roused
from it, and fired at repeatedly through the day, neither
the noise nor any sense of danger seems to alarm them;
! and, if we should seek for the little judcock on an en-
suing morning, we find it at its spring again. The in-
difference with which it endures this daily persecution
is amazing. It will afford amusement or vexation to
the young sportsman throughout the whole Christmas
vacation ; and, from the smallness of its body, will
ji finally often escape from all its diurnal dangers. The
rail, and several other birds, confide for safety more in
their legs than their wings, when disturbed ; but this
J snipe makes little use of its feet, and takes to its wings
jj with such reluctance, from an apparent indolence of
disposition, that, could it be seen in the rushes, or tufts

THE JACK SNIPE.

178

of herbage, where it hides, it might be captured by the
hand. It leaves us early in the spring. Fond of con-
cealment as this little bird usually is, yet there are
times when it is infinitely less so than at others ; and,
I think, upon the relenting of a frost, or when there is
a tendency to a thaw, it shows unusual alacrity, springs
from its rushy drain almost as readily as the common
snipe, and occasions, for the moment, a doubt of the
species. The mandible of this species is of a weak
and spongy nature.

The causes that influence this snipe to lead so soli-
tary a life are particularly obscure, as well as those
which stimulate some others to congregate, as we com-
prehend no individual benefit to arise from such habits.
Wild fowl, the rook, and some other birds, derive secu-
rity, perhaps, from feeding in society, as a sentinel ap-
pears to be placed by them at such times to give notice
of danger; but our congregating small birds take no
such precaution : security or mutual protection does not
seem to be obtained by it, as the largeness of the flocks
invites danger ; and warmth in the winter season it does
not afford. For the purposes of migration, such asso-
ciations are in many respects serviceable and consistent ;
but in our resident species, considered in its various
results, it becomes rather a subject of conjecture, than
of expiration. Timid creatures associate commonly
upon the apprehension of danger, and, without yielding
any mutual support, become only the more obnoxious to
evil ; and this snipe, though its habits are the very re-
verse of connexion with its species, yet affords no clue
to direct us to the causes of its unusual habits. These
associations of some, and retirement of others, are not
the capricious actions of an hour in a few individuals,
but so regularly and annually observed in the several
species, that they are manifestly appointed provisions
of nature, though the object is unknown. This half-
snipe, as our sportsmen call it, has rather generally
been considered by our young shooters as the male of
the larger species, or common snipe (scolopax gallinago);
yet it is difficult to assign any reason for the prevalence
of such an idea, with those who have had many oppor-

THE PEEWIT.

179

tunities of observing the dissimilarity in the mode of
life, the manners, and plumage of the birds. I know
not any bird that lays so large an egg, in proportion to
its size, as the snipe.

A few pairs of the peewit (tringa vanellus) visit an-
nually some of our larger plowed fields to breed ; but
they are so frequently disturbed by those necessary pro-
cesses of husbandry, hoeing and weeding, that they
seldom succeed in the object of their visit. On our
adjoining heath they escape better, and bring off* many
of their young: but the larger portion of them keep
their station on the banks and dikes of the great drains
and sewers in the marsh lands ; and the traveller, who
happens, in the spring of the year, to pass along any of
the roads bordering upon these haunts, where many
pairs are settled, will long remember the wearying and
incessant clamor of these birds, which, rising as he ap-
proaches, wheel about him in an awkward, tumbling
flight, accompanied by the unremitting, querulous cry
of “peewit, peewit,” continued by the perseverance of
successive pairs, as long as he remains near their habi-
tation ; which generally being a flat, aguish, uninterest-
ing country, where little is heard but the whispering of
the wind in the reeds and sedges, the teasing monotony
of this bird gives a very peculiarly dreary and melan-
choly character to parts of our lowland roads. In some
counties these cold, wet districts go by the name of
“ peewit or pewety lands.” At this period of the year,
the bird is bold and fearless, and menaces the intruder
with all its vociferous powers, when he approaches its
haunts,* but the broods being fledged, the families unite,
form large flocks, and retire to open meadows, unin-
closed commons and downs, feeding on slugs and worms,
and become wild and vigilant creatures. It is well
known that the glareous liquor or white of the egg of
this bird, upon being boiled, becomes gelatinous and
translucent, not a thick opake substance like that of the
hen ; a circumstance that is likewise observable in the
eggs of the rook, and of many of our small birds. The
latter are not sufferers by it ; but the eggs of the poor
rook, though bearing little resemblance to those of this

HAWS AND HEPS

180

plover, are in some places not uncommonly taken and
sold conjointly with them in the London market ; and
probably the habitual eater of them only can distinguish
a sensible difference.

Prognostications and signs, a great amusement, and
the ground-work of belief to our forefathers, have, in
general, pretty much declined with us ; the repeated
falsity of most of them having destroyed their reputa-
tion. We know so little, if any thing, of the actuating
causes of seasons and their change, or the combinations
effecting results, that no safe conclusion can be formed
of any present events influencing the future. Whatever
our almanacs may do, few persons of credit will venture
now to predict, from what we call natural causes, a hot
summer, or a severe winter ; yet that very ancient idea,
amongst country people, that 44 years of store of haws
and heps do commonly portend cold winters,” still lin-
gers with us. However warmly we assent to the fun-
damental truth, the merciful consideration of Provi-
dence, in providing food for the necessities of the little
fowls of the air, which, perhaps, piously gave rise to
the observation, almost every year proves, that any con-
clusions drawn from these 44 stores of haws and heps”
are perfectly fallacious. The birds that feed chiefly
upon the fruit of the white thorn, and the wild rose,
are the fieldfare (turdus pilaris), and the redwing (tur-
dus iliacus) ; and that they, do so, every sportsman has
had the most manifest conviction : yet it has been said
recently, that these creatures do not eat these fruits ;
and said too by an eminent and amiable man, with whom
I have frequently had the honor of conversing, and al-
ways with profit.* Were he living, his love of science
would encourage my observations, though not in unison
with his opinion : my breath shall not agitate his ashes,
nor will his spirit, I am certain, frown in anger at my
lines. It must be premised, that these birds, generally
speaking, give the preference to insect food and worms ;
and when flights of them have taken their station near

* Substance of a paper read before the Royal Society, Nov. 27,
1824. See Zoological Magazine, vol. i.

EATEN BY BIRDS.

181

the banks of large rivers, margined by lowlands, we
shall find, that the bulk of them will remain there, and
feed in those places ; and, in the uplands, we shall ob-
serve small restless parties only. But in the midland
and some other counties, the flocks that are resident
have not always these meadows to resort to, and they
then feed on the haws as long as they remain. In this
county, the extensive lowlands of the river Severn in
open weather are visited by prodigious flocks of these
birds ; but as soon as snow falls, or hard weather comes
on, they leave these marshy lands, because their insect
food is covered or become scarce, visit the uplands, to
feed on the produce of the hedges, and we see them
all day long passing over our heads in large flights on
some distant progress, in the same manner as our larks,
at the commencement of a snowy season, repair to the
turnip fields of Somerset and Wiltshire. They remain
absent during the continuance of those causes which
incited their migration ; but, as the frost breaks up, and
even before the thaw has actually commenced, we see a
large portion of these passengers returning to their
worm and insect food in the meadows, attended proba-
bly by many that did not take flight with them— though
a great number remain in the upland pastures, feeding
promiscuously as they can. In my younger days, a
keen, unwearied sportsman, it was always observable,
that in hard weather these birds increased prodigiously
in number in the counties far distant from the meadow
lands, though we knew not the reason ; and we usually
against this time provided tempting bushes of haws,
preserved in a barn, to place in frequented hedges, near
our secret standings. When the fieldfare first arrives,
its flesh is dqrk, thin, and scurfy ; but, having fed a lit-
tle time in the hedges, its rump and side veins are cov-
ered with fat. This is, in part, attributable to suppres-
sion of perspiration by the cold, and partly to a nutritive
farinaceous food ; its flesh at the time becoming bluish
and clean. The upland birds are in this state, from
perhaps the end of November till the end of January,
according as the hedge fruit has held out ; and at this
period they are comparatively tame : afterward, though

Q

LINGERING BIRDS.

182

the flights may be large, they become wild ; and the
flesh, assuming its darkness, manifests that their food
has not been farinaceous. The distant foreign migra-
tions, which have been stated to take place from the
meadows of the Severn, I believe to be only these in-
land trips ; and that the supposed migrators returned to
those stations fat and in good condition, owing to their
having fed during their absence on the nutricious berry
of the white thorn. I have several times seen the fruit
on our hedges refused by these birds, and this too in
no very temperate season ; but in all these cases, the
summer had been ungenial — the berries had not ripen-
ed well, they were nipped by the frosts of October, and
hung on the sprays dark in color, small, and juiceless
in substance. The summer of 1825 produced the finest
and largest haws I ever remember. They were in gene-
ral of a bright red hue, and filled with farinaceous pulp ;
and in consequence, though the season was uncom-
monly mild and open, long before Christmas, little
wandering parties of these birds consumed the whole
of them.

Perfectly gregarious as the fieldfare is, yet we ob-
serve every year, in some tall hedge-row, or little,
quiet pasture, two or three of them that have with-
drawn from the main flocks, and there associate with
the blackbird and the thrush. They do not appear to
be wounded birds, which from necessity have sought
concealment and quiet, but to have retired from in-
clination ; and I have reason to apprehend that these
retreats are occasionally made for the purpose of form-
ing nests, though they are afterwards abandoned with-
out incubation ; as I have now before me the egg of a
bird, which I believe to be that of a fieldfare^, taken
from a nest somewhat like that formed by the song-
thrush, in 1824. Its color is uniform- — a rather pale
blue ; it is larger than that of the thrush, obtuse at both
ends, and unlike any egg produced by our known British
birds. These retiring birds linger with us late in the
season, after all the main flights are departed, as if re-
luctant to leave us ; but towards the middle or end of

VOICES OF BIRDS. 183

| April these stragglers unite, form a small company, and
j take their flight.

Rural sounds, the voices, the language of the wild
l| creatures, as heard by the naturalist, belong to, and are
j in concord with the country only. Our sight, our smell,
i may perhaps be deceived for an interval by conserva-
tories, horticultural arts, and bowers of sweets ; but our
hearing can in no way be beguiled by any semblance
of what is heard in the grove or the field. The hum,
the murmur, the medley of the mead, is peculiarly its
own, admits of no imitation, and the voices of our birds
convey particular intimation, and distinctly notify the
various periods of the year, with an accuracy as cer-
tain as they are detailed in our calendars. The season
of spring is always announced as approaching by the
notes of the rookery, by the jangle or wooing accents
of the dark frequenters of its trees ; and that time hav-
ing passed away, these contentions and cadences are no
longer heard. The cuckoo then comes, and informs us
that spring has arrived ; that he has journeyed to us, borne
by gentle gales in sunny days ; that fragrant flowers
are in the copse and the mead, and all things telling of
gratulation and of joy : the children mark this well-
known sound, spring out, and cuckoo! cuckoo! as they
gambol down the lane: the very plow-boy bids him
welcome in the early morn. It is hardly spring without
the cuckoo’s song; and having told his tale, he has
voice for no more — is silent or away. Then comes the
dark, swift-winged marten, glancing through the air,
that seems afraid to visit our uncertain clime : he comes,
though late, and hurries through his business here,
eager again to depart, all day long in agitation and pre-
cipitate flight. The bland zephyrs of the spring have
no charms with them ; but basking and careering in
the sultry gleams of June and July, they associate in
throngs, and, screaming, dash round the steeple or the
ruined tower, to serenade their nesting mates; and
glare and heat are in their train. When the fervor of
summer ceases, this bird of the sun will depart. The
evening robin from the summit of some leafless bough,
or projecting point, tells us that autumn is come, and

VOICES OF BIRDS.

184

(

brings matured fruits, chilly airs, and sober hours, and
he, the lonely minstrel now that sings, is understood by
all. These four birds thus indicate a separate season,
have no interference with the intelligence of the other,
nor could they be transposed without the loss of all the
meaning they convey, which no contrivance of art could
supply ; and, by long association, they have become
identified with the period, and in peculiar accordance
with the time.

We note birds in general more from their voices than
their plumage ; for the carols of spring may be heard
involuntarily, but to observe the form and decoration
of these creatures, requires an attention not always
given. Yet we have some native birds beautifully and
conspicuously feathered ; the goldfinch, the chaffinch,
the wagtails, are all eminently adorned, and the fine
gradations of sober browns in several others are very
pleasing. Those sweet sounds, called the song of birds,
proceed only from the male ; and, with a few excep-
tions, only during the season of incubation. Hence the
comparative quietness of our summer months, when
this care is over, except from accidental causes, where
a second nest is formed ; few of our birds bringing up
more than one brood in the season. The redbreast,
blackbird, and thrush, in mild winters will continu-
ally be heard, and form exceptions to the general
procedure of our British birds ; and we have one little
bird, the woodlark (alunda arborea), that in the early
parts of the autumnal months delights us with its har-
mony, and its carols may be heard in the air commonly
during the calm sunny mornings of this season. They
have a softness and quietness perfectly in unison with
the sober, almost melancholy, stillness of the hour.
The skylark also sings now, and its song is very sweet,
full of harmony, cheerful as the blue Sky and gladden-
ing beam in which it circles and sports, and known and
admired by all ; but the voice of the woodlark is local,
not so generally heard, from its softness must almost be
listened for, to be distinguished, and has not any pre-
tensions to the hilarity of the former. This little bird
sings likewise in the spring ; but, at that season, the

VOICES OF BIRDS.

185

j contending songsters of the grove, and the variety of
sound proceeding from every thing that has utterance,
confuse and almost render inaudible the placid voice
of the woodlark. It delights to fix its residence near

J little groves and copses, or quiet pastures, and is a very

j unobtrusive bird, not uniting in companies, but associ-
ating in its own little family parties only, feeding in the
woodlands on seeds and insects. Upon the approach of
man it crouches dose to the ground, then suddenly
darts away, as if for a distant flight, but settles again
almost immediately. This lark will often continue its
song, circle in the air, a scarcely visible speck, by the
hour together; and the vast distance from which its
voice reaches us in a calm day is almost incredible. In
the scale of comparison, it stands immediately below
the nightingale in melody and plaintiveness ; but com-
pass of voice is given to the linnet, a bird of very in-
ferior powers. The strength of the larynx and of the
muscles of the throat in birds is infinitely greater than
in the human race. The loudest shout of the peasant
is but a feeble cry, compared with that of the golden-
eyed duck, the wild goose, or even this lark. The sweet
song of this poor little bird, with a fate like that of
the nightingale, renders it an object of capture and
confinement, which few of them comparatively survive.
I have known our country birdcatchers take them by a
very simple' but effectual method. Watching them to
the ground, the wings of a hawk, or of the brown owl,
stretched out, are drawn against the current of air by a
string, as a paper kite, and made to flutter and librate
like a kestrel over the place where the woodlark has
lodged ; which so intimidates the bird that it remains
crouching and motionless as a stone on the ground ; a
hand-net is brought over it, and it is caught.

From various little scraps of intelligence scattered
through the sacred and ancient writings, it appears cer-
tain, as it was reasonable to conclude, that the notes
now used by birds, and the voices of animals/ are the
same as uttered by their earliest progenitors. The lan-
guage of man, without any reference to the confusion
accomplished at Babel, has been broken into innumera-

Q 2

VOICES OF BIRDS.

186

!

ble dialects, created or compounded as his wants oc-
curred, or his ideas prompted; or obtained by inter-
course with others, as mental enlargement or novelty
necessitated new words to express new sentiments.
Could we find a people from Japan or the Pole, whose
progress in mind has been stationary, without increase
of idea, from national prejudice or impossibility of com-
munication with others, we probably should find little
or no alteration in the original language of that people ;
so, by analogy of reasoning, the animal having no idea
to prompt, no new want to express, no converse with
others, (for a note caught and uttered merely is like a
boy mocking the cuckoo,) so no new language is ac-
quired. With civilized man, every thing is progressive ;
with animals, where there is no mind, all is stationary.
Even the voice of one species of birds, except in par-
ticular cases, seems not to be attended to by another
species., That peculiar call of the female cuckoo,
which assembles so many contending lovers, and all the
various amatorial and caressing language of others, ex-
cites no influence generally, that I am aware of; with
all but the individual species, it is a dialect unknown.
I know but one note, which animals make use of, that
seems of universal comprehension, and this is the sig-
nal of danger. The instant that it is uttered, we hear
the whole flock, though composed of various species,
repeat a separate moan, and away they all scuttle into
the bushes for safety. The reiterated “ twink, twink”
of the chaffinch, is known by every little bird as infor-
mation of some prowling cat or weasel. Some give
the maternal hush to their young, and mount to inquire
into the jeopardy announced. The wren, that tells of
perils from the hedge, soon collects about her all the
various inquisitive species within hearing, to survey and
ascertain the object, and add their separate fears. The
swallow, that shrieking darts in devious flight through
the air when a hawk appears, not only calls up all the
hirundines of the village, but is instantly understood by
every finch and sparrow, and its warning attended to.
As Nature, in all her ordinations, had a fixed design
and foreknowledge, it may be that each species had a

VOICES OF BIRDS.

187

separate voice assigned it, that each might continue as
created, distinct and unmixed : and the very few devia-
tions and admixtures that have taken place, considering
the lapse of time, association, and opportunity, united
with the prohibition of continuing accidental deviations,
are very remarkable, and indicate a cause and original
motive. That some of the notes of birds are as lan-
guage designed to convey a meaning, is obvious from
the very different sounds uttered by these creatures at
particular periods : the spring voices become changed
as summer advances, and the requirements of the early
season have ceased ; the summer excitements, moni-
tions, informations, are not needed in autumn, and the
notes conveying such intelligences are no longer heard.
The periodical calls of animals, croaking of frogs, &c.,
afford the same reasons for concluding that the sound
of their voices by elevation, depression, or modulation,
conveys intelligence equivalent to an uttered sentence.
The voices of birds seem applicable in most instances
to the immediate necessities of their condition ; such as
the sexual call, the invitation to unite when dispersed,
the moan of danger, the shriek of alarm, the notice of
food. But there are other notes, the designs and mo-
tives of which are not so obvious. One sex only is
gifted with the power of singing, for the purpose, as
Buffon supposed, of cheering his mate during the period
of incubation ; but this idea, gallant as it is, has such
slight foundation in probability, that it needs no confu-
tation : and after all, perhaps, we must conclude, that
listened to, admired, and pleasing, as the voices of many
birds are, either for their intrinsic melody, or from as-
sociation, we are uncertain what they express, or the
object of their song. The singing of most birds seems
entirely a spontaneous effusion produced by no exertion,
or occasioning no lassitude in muscle, or relaxation of
the parts of action. In certain seasons and weather,
the nightingale sings all day, and most part of the night ;
and we never observe that the powers of song are
weaker, or that the notes become harsh and untunable,
after all these hours of practice. The song-thrush, in
a mild moist April, will commence his tune early in

VOICES OF BIRDS,

18S

the morning, pipe unceasingly through the day, yet, at
the close of eve, when he retires to rest, there is no
obvious decay of his musical powers, or any sensible
effort required to continue his harmony to the last.
Birds of one species sing in general very like each
other, with different degrees of execution. Some
counties may produce finer songsters, but without great
variation in the notes. In the thrush, however, it is
remarkable, that there seem to be no regular notes,
each individual piping a voluntary of his own. Their
voices may always be distinguished amid the choristers
of the copse, yet some one performer will more partic-
ularly engage attention by a peculiar modulation or
tune ; and should several stations of these birds be
visited in the same morning, few or none probably will
be found to preserve the same round of notes ; what-
ever is uttered seeming the effusion of the moment. At
times a strain will break out perfectly unlike any pre-
ceding utterance, and we may wait a long time without
noticing any repetition of it. During one spring an
individual song-thrush, frequenting a favorite copse,
after a certain round of tune, trilled out most regularly
some notes that conveyed so clearly the words, lady-
bird ! lady-bird ! that every one remarked the resem-
blance. He survived the winter, and in the ensuing
season the lady-bird 1 lady-bird ! was still the burden
of our evening song; it then ceased, and we never
heard this pretty modulation more. Though merely an
occasional strain, yet I have noticed it elsewhere — it
thus appearing to be a favorite utterance. Harsh,
strained, and tense, as the notes of this bird are, yet
they are pleasing from their variety. The voice of the
blackbird is infinitely more mellow, but has much less
variety, compass, or execution ; and he too commences
his carols with the morning light, persevering from hour
to hour without effort, or any sensible faltering of voice.
The cuckoo wearies us throughout some long May
morning with the unceasing monotony of its song; and,
though there are others as vociferous, yet it is the only
bird I know that seems to suffer from the use of the
organs of voice. Little exertion as the few notes it

PLEASURE DERIVED FROM BIRDS.

189

makes use of seem to require, yet, by the middle or end
of June, it loses its utterance, becomes hoarse, and
ceases from any further essay of it. The croaking of
the nightingale in June, or the end of May, is not ap-
parently occasioned by the loss of voice, but a change
of note, a change of object ; his song ceases when his
mate has hatched her brood ; vigilance, anxiety, caution,
now succeed to harmony, and his croak is the hush, the
warning of danger or suspicion to the infant charge and
the mother bird.

But here I must close my notes of birds, lest their
actions and their ways, so various and so pleasing,
should lure me on to protract

“ My tedious tale through many a page

for I have always been an admirer of these elegant
creatures, their notes, their nests, their eggs, and all the
economy of their lives ; nor have we, throughout the
orders of creation, any beings that so continually en-
gage our attention as these our feathered companions.
Winter takes from us all the gay world of the meads,
the sylphs that hover over our flowers, that steal our
sweets, that creep, or gently wing their way in glitter-
ing splendor around us ; and of all the miraculous crea-
tures that sported their hour in the sunny beam, the
winter gnat (tipula hiemalis) alone remains to frolic in
some rare and partial gleam. The myriads of the pool
are dormant, or hidden from our sight ; the quadrupeds,
few and wary, veil their actions in the glooms of night,
and we see little of them ; but birds are with us al- .
ways, they give a character to spring, and are identified
with it ; they enchant and amuse us all summer long
with their sports, animation, hilarity, and glee ; they
cluster round us, suppliant in the winter of our year,
and, unrepining through cold and want, seek their
scanty meal amidst the refuse of the barn, the stalls of
the cattle, or at the doors of our house ; or, flitting
hungry from one denuded and bare spray to another,
excite our pity and regard ; their lives are patterns of
gaiety, cleanliness, alacrity, and joy.

OUR IGNORANCE OF THE

190

There are very many subjects and employments of
mankind, which, if we would obtain a competent know-
ledge of them, will require an almost undivided atten-
tion ; yet, after all our “ rising early and late taking
rest,” we shall know too little to be weighed in compe-
tition with what is beyond our attainment or compre-
hension. As in ascending mountainous regions we may
reach the summit of one hill with comparative ease,
that of a higher with more laborious efforts, and a still
higher is attained by a gifted few, beyond which our
breath fails us, our natural powers become inadequate ;
so a small number may ascend the Alps of science, but
pant, unable to attain the Himmala ranges of their
wishes. If proficiency be the object, all the branches
of natural history require undivided attention ; but
amusement, admiration, and intelligence, may be ob-
tained by even superficial observation ; and of all these
departments, perhaps entomology, or the investigation
of the insect world, from the variety it embraces, the
season, the subjects, and the vigilance necessary to
catch every momentary action, requires from its followers
an homage more absolute, an attention more devoted,
than most others. Amid those few branches of science
on which I have sought for blossoms/ that of ento-
mology I have least investigated ; yet, perhaps it may
be said, that such slight notices as the foregoing need
not have usurped the time that the study of this depart-
ment required. To this truth I cannot but assent, and
say with the eminent man, whose “ Centuries of Ex-
periments” I have often quoted, that they are indeed
more the suggestions of “light than of fruit;” pro-
ficiency was beyond my powers; I have sought for
amusement, and gratefully record the many peaceful
hours, and oblivion of pain, which the perusal of
nature’s volume gave me, superficial as that perusal
was.

On whatever side we turn our attention in this world
of wonders by which we are surrounded, we constantly
find some subject that calls forth our admiration ; and,
as far as our very imperfect vision is permitted to pene-
trate, we observe the same unremitting order and pro-

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WAYS OF INSECTS.

191

vision for a seemingly mean and worthless purpose, as
is bestowed upon a higher and apparently more worthy
object. We consider insects as one of the lower orders
of creation, but are as perfectly unacquainted, generally
speaking, with the objects of their being, though they
have for ages crawled and winged their way around us,
as the first man Adam was ; yet there is a care mani-
fested for the preservation and accommodation of these,
which we often designate as contemptible creatures,
that is most elaborate and wonderful. The forethought
with which many of them have been furnished to de-
posit their eggs in safety from the contingencies of
seasons and hostile incidents, and precisely in the
situation most fitting, must call forth the admiration of
all who have observed it. Some of these are lodged in
summer and autumn deep in the earth, on that part of
a plant which in due time is to be raised up, consti-
tuting a stalk or blade, bearing with it by gentle steps
! these eggs, to be vivified by the summer’s air and
warmth. Others fix them on some portion of an herb
hidden beneath the mud in the pool ; and this being
elevated by the warmth of spring, conveys them with
its growth above the element that protected them, and
they hatch, the infants feeding on the substance that
has borne them to the air. In their chrysalis state, a
cradle of preparation for a final change, the same wisdom
and care are more particularly obvious from their size
and frequent occurrence : but to enlarge sufficiently
upon the contrivances and manifestations of regard
brought to our observance in all the stages of an insect’
life, would almost require a detail of the race.

A particularly curious covering for a moth, or butter-
fly, (phalsena pavonia?) fell into my hands, which might
be well known to a more experienced entomologist,
but was new to me. The species I do not know, as it
never arrived at perfection. This case was formed of
the fine silky substance that wraps up so many of the
race. The summit for some cause was less closed than
usual ; but to obviate any injury to the creature from
this circumstance, a conical hood of similar materials
! was placed over the exposed part of the aurelia, through

THE DRAGON-FLY.

192

which it received air in perfect security. This veil be-
ing formed of elastic threads, and opening upon pres-
sure, would constitute no impediment to the escape of
the fly when perfected. More care and forethought
than these contrivances manifest, we are not acquainted
with for any order of beings. I conjecture it would
have produced the emperor moth.

June 16. — >1 this day captured in a neighboring
meadow a fine specimen of the four-spotted dragon-fly
(libellula quadrimaculata), and note this for my entomo-
logical friends ; being the first certain instance I am
acquainted with of its being taken in England of late
years, for Ray mentions it. Another, I believe, escaped
by its shyness. It is a handsome creature, about three
inches in breadth between the extremities of its wings.
The two dark linear marks on the upper margin of each
wing, and tapering downy body, distinguish this fly
from any other. I can add nothing regarding its history
or manners.

The ghost moth (hepialus humuli) is commonly seen
here, as I believe it to be in most other places, but
is mentioned to point out to any young person unac-
quainted with this insect its singular habit when on the
wing, which at once distinguishes it from any other
moth. The larva which produces this creature is hidden
in the ground during the season of winter; the fly
being formed in the month of May, and soon rising
from the soil, then commences its short career. At this
time one or more of them may frequently be observed
under some hedge in a mead, or some low place in a
damp pasture, only a few feet from the ground, perse-
vering for a length of time together in a very irregular
flight, rising, and falling, and balancing about in a space
not exceeding a few yards in circumference, an action
not observable in any other, and fully indicating this
moth. This procedure is not the meanless vagary of the
hour, but a frolicsome dance, the wooing of its mate,
which lies concealed in the herbage over which it sports.
The two insects are something similar in their general
form, but very differently marked. The male exhibitor
is known by its four glossy, satiny, white wings, border-

THE GHOST MOTH.

193

ed with buff ; the lady reposer has her upper wings of
a tawny yellow, spotted and banded with deep brown.
They are very inert creatures, easily captured, and their
existence appears to be of very short duration, as we
soon cease to observe them, either in action or at rest.
The male probably becomes the prey of every bird that
feeds by night ; his color and his actions rendering him
particularly obnoxious to dangers of this nature, and
the frequency with which we find his wings scattered
about, points out the cause of death to most of them.
The bat pursues with great avidity all those creatures
that fly in the evening; and by its actions it seems to
meet with constant employment, and has greater prob-
ability of success, than some insectivorous birds that
feed by day, as all the myriads which abound at this
time are the sole prey of itself and a few nocturnal
ramblers. From this singular flight in the twilight hour,
haunting as it were one particular spot, the fancy of
some collector, considering it as a spectrelike action,
named it the “ ghost moth.”

The fern owl, but chiefly, I conjecture, the larger
bats, are the creatures that have caused me to expe-
rience at times both envy and regret, when I have ob-
served scattered in some woodland path, amidst the
fragments of their nightly banquet, the relics of such
beautiful insects as the emperor of the woods, the
verdigris moth, and twenty other rare insects, to be ob-
tained only after the patience of years, or fortune of the
hour ; and yet our merciless birds devour these choice
dainties without compunction or regard. This ghost
moth discharges her eggs in a very singular manner,
and frequently immediately upon capture, not delibe-
rately protruding them, but dismissing them from the
oviduct in rapid succession, until it is exhausted, with
a slight elastic force, that conveys them clear from the
abdomen. They are perfectly dry and unadhesive.

It requires more than usual delicate management to
preserve an uninjured specimen of the male of this
species, as the slightest touch robs the wings of the fine
scaly plumage which is affixed to their film or substance

R

HABITS OF INSECTS.

194

by an extreme point, as is the case with most others of
our moths, but in this instance so loosely, that a very
gentle friction rubs it off. The plumage which covers
the wings and bodies of many of our lepidopterous in-
sects is variously colored, and like the feathers of birds,
gives them their splendor : in the butterflies I have not
observed it to vary greatly in form, but in the moths
the same uniformity does not appear to be maintained,
as a few specimens will manifest

No. 1. Scales from wings of phalrena pronuba — yellow under-
wing. 2. Ghost moth. 3. Phalaena bucephala — buff tip. 4. Ph. vi-
nula — puss moth. 5. Ph. potatoria, a, the female — drinker moth.
6. Papilio brassicse — great white. 7. Pap. Napi — green-veined but-
terflies. 8. Large brown moth (name omitted). 9. Acherontia atro-
pos — death’s head.

But the variety of clothing with which insects are
decorated, is most admirable and curious ! The upper
and the under vestiture of the wings, their fringes, that
which covers the body in different parts, varies greatly ;
the bird, splendidly habited as he sometimes is, fre-
quently will be found draped with less variety of form
and color than the insect which escapes our notice by
his actions, and the power of our eyes by the smallness
of its parts. Our lepidopterous creatures seem to be
most characteristically framed and constituted for the
different hours and places in which they delight to
move ; so much so, that I think if we were to invert
the order of their appearance, the singular unfitness of

BLUE ARGUS BUTTERFLY.

195

many of them for their stations would be immediately
manifest to us. The butterfly, light, airy, joyous, re-
plete with life, sports in the sunshine, wantons on the
flower, and trips from bloom to bloom, gay as the bril-
liant morn, and cheerful as the splendor of heaven :
heat and light appear to be the very principle of his
being ; in a cloudy or a chilly atmosphere his energies
become suspended, and, closing his wings, reposes like
a sickly thing upon some drooping flower : but let the
cloud disperse, the sun break out, he springs again to
active life ; associating with the birds of day, and deni-
zen of the same scenes, he only seems of a less ele-
vated order. But the moth, though possessing at times
sufficient activity for self-preservation, is less buoyant,
less sprightly on the wing, avoids the heat and light,
the higher ranges of the air, and seeks his mate or his
food in the shelter of the hedge or the ditch, amidst
foliage and shade, where we may see him hovering se-
dately around some flower, or passing on his way with
quiet steady flight, accordant with the silence and twi-
light of the hour : companion of the owl and the bat,
his grave actions are quite unsuitable to the gaiety, the
flutter of a summer’s sun ; the former is emblematic of
levity and display, the latter of retirement and shade.
And thus each, though but slightly seen, is in admirable
harmony with the season in which it moves, manifesting
the peculiar fitness of things to their several stations in
this vast world of wisdom; an observation obvious to
all, and a truth everywhere admitted, yet, as a Christian
moralizer I could not pass by unheeded any evidence
of foresight and of power.

Basking in the glare of an August or a July sun, in
our pastures we see the little elegant blue argus butter-
fly (papilio argus), noted and admired by all, now
warmed into active life. A few of our lepidopterous
creatures, especially the common white butterflies of
our gardens, are contentious animals, and drive away
a rival from their haunts. We see them progressively
ascending into the air, in ardent unheeding contest;
and thus they are observed, captured, and consumed in
a moment by some watchful bird : but we have few

THE PAPILIO PHLiEAS.

196

more jealous and pugnacious than this little argus.
When fully animated, it will not suffer any of its tribe
to cross its path, or approach the flower on which it sits,
with impunity ; even the large admiral (vanessa atalan-
ta) at these times it will assail and drive awray. There
is another small butterfly (papilio phlseas), however, as
handsome, and perhaps still more quarrelsome, fre-
quenting too the same station and flowers; and a con-
stant warfare exists between them. We shall see these
diminutive creatures, whenever they come near each
other, dart into action, and continue buffeting one
another about till one retires from the contest; when
the victor returns in triumph to the station he had left.
Should the enemy again advance, the combat is renew-
ed ; but should a cloud obscure the sun, or a breeze
chill the air, their ardor becomes abated, and contention
ceases.

The papilio phlaeas enjoys a combat even with its
kindred. Two of them are seldom disturbed, when
basking on a knot of asters in September, without mu-
tual strife ensuing. Being less affected by cold and
moisture than the argus, they remain with us longer,
and these contentions are protracted till late in the au-
tumn. The pugnacious disposition of the argus butter-
fly soon deprives it of much of its beauty ; and, unless
captured soon after its birth, we find the margins of its
wings torn and jagged, the elegant blue plumage rubbed
from the wings, and the creature become dark and
shabby.

This spring, 1827, fostered into active life an insect
unknown in our district, or at least unnoticed before by
me ; a pretty little blue butterfly, for which I know no
common appellation, and so have named it the “ spring
azure,” (papilio argiolus). It appeared quite at the end
of April, and in some numbers, but was yet a transient'
visitor with us, as after the first week in May only a lin-
gering specimen or so was visible. Few wild flowers
are then in bloom ; but, leaving all herbaceous plants,
it frequented chiefly the holly, the laurel, and the black
currant, feeding on the honey secreted by the nectaries
in their blossoms. If this butterfly be anywhere com-

THE HUMMINGBIRD HAWKMOTH.

19?

mon, it may be mistaken by indifferent observers for
the little blue argus of our pastures; but it appears
some months earlier than that insect is accustomed to
do; does not flit from blossom to blossom, and bask
upon the disks of the lowly herbs ; and, though a feebler
creature on the wing, takes a much higher range in
flight, and sports in altitudes which the argus, with all
its animation, is very rarely inclined to attempt. When
in captivity, the dark margins of the upper wings, the
black specks, not eyes, and the pale blue of the reverse,
without any other character, render it perfectly distin-
guishable from the papilio argus, corydon, or any other
butterfly found with us. A small hatch again takes
place about the end of July, and this pretty insect
haunts anew our currant bushes ; but, enlivened by the
warmth of the season, it becomes more wild and wary,
and avoids our approach.

The hummingbird hawkmoth (sphinx stellatarum)
visits us annually, and occasionally in some numbers,
frisking about all the summer long, and in very fine
seasons continues with us as late as the second week in
October. The vigilance and animation of this creature
are surprising, and seem to equal those of its namesake,
that splendid meteoric bird of the tropics, “ that winged
thought,” as some one has called it ; though, our plain
and dusky insect can boast none of its glorious hues.
Our little sphinx appears chiefly in the mornings and
evenings of the day, rather avoiding the heat of the
mid-day sun, possibly roused from its rest by the scent,
that “ aromatic soul of flowers,” which is principally
exhaled at these periods; delighting in the jasmine,
marvel of Peru, phlox, and such tubular flowers ; and
it will even insert its long, flexible tube into every petal
of the carnation, to extract the honey-like liquor it con-
tains. It will visit our geraniums and greenhouse
plants, and, whisking over part of them with contempt-
uous celerity, select some composite flower that takes
its fancy, and examine every tube with rapidity, hover-
ing over its disk with quivering wings, while its fine
hawk-like eyes survey all surrounding dangers. The
least movement alarms it, and it darts away with the

198 THE PAINTED LADY BUTTERFLY.

speed of an arrow ; yet returns, and with suspicious
vigilance continues its employ, feeding always on the
wing. Nature seems to have given this creature some
essential requisites for its safety ; its activity, when on
the wing, renders its capture difficult; and when it
rests, it is on a wall, the bark of a tree, or some dusky
body, that assimilates so nearly to its own color, as to
render it almost invisible, though watched to its settle-
ment; and the larva is seldom found. We sometimes
see it enter our rooms, attracted by flowers in the open
windows ; but it seems to be immediately aware of its
danger, disappears in an instant, and is safe from cap-
ture. Wild and fearful as this creature is by nature,
yet continued gentle treatment will remove much of its
timidity, and render it familiar to our presence. Per-
fectly free from any annoyance as they are when ranging
from sweet to sweet on my borders, and accustomed to
a close inspection of all their operations, I have fre-
quently touched their wings with my fingers, while
hovering oyer a flower, and dipping their long tubes
into the corolla of a geranium : they would retire a lit-
tle, confused with such freedoms and interruptions, but,
experiencing no harm, they would return and finish
their meal, unmindful of such petty annoyances. I have
known this creature, like some other insects, counterfeit
death when apprehensive of danger, fall on its back,
and appear in all respects devoid of life when in a box ;
and, as soon as a fit opportunity arrived, dart away with
its usual celerity.

On the blue heads of the pasture scabious (scabiosa
succisa) we occasionally see, toward the end of the
summer, the painted lady butterfly (papilio cardui) ; but
this is a creature that visits us at very uncertain periods,
and is vivified by causes infinitely beyond the compre-
hension of the entomologist, seeming to require a suc-
cession and variety of seasons and their change, and
then springing into life we know not how. This was
particularly obvious in the summer of 1815, and the
two following, which were almost unceasingly cold and
rainy ; scarcely a moth or butterfly appeared. And in
the early part of 1818, the season was not less ungenial ;

THE WASP AND BUTTERFLY.

199

a few half-animated creatures alone struggled into be-
ing; yet this “ painted lady” was fostered into life, and
became the commonest butterfly of the year : it has,
however, but very partially visited us since that period.
The keenest entomologist, perhaps, would not much
lament the absence of this beauty, if such cheerless
seasons were always requisite to bring it to perfection.
Some years ago a quantity of earth was raised in cut-
ting a canal in this county ; and, in the ensuing sum-
mer, on the herbage that sprang up from this new soil
on the bank, this butterfly was found in abundance,
where it had not been observed for many years before.

The marble butterfly (papilio galathea) is an equally
capricious visitant of our fields. I have known in-
tervals of ten or twelve years when none could be
found, and in some following seasons it would be a pre-
vailing species.

The common wasp (vespa vulgaris) is infinitely un-
certain in its numbers. A mild winter, and a dry spring
or summer, we might conclude to be favorable circum-
stances for the increase of this creature ; yet such is
not always the case. Years productive of the plum are
said to be congenial likewise to the wasp. A local
rhyme will have it, that

“ When the plum hangs on the tree,

Then the wasp you ’re sure to see.”

Amid the tribes of insects so particularly influenced by
seasons, there are a few which appear little affected by
common events ; the brown meadow butterfly (papilio
janira), so well known to every one, I have never missed
in any year; and in those damp and cheerless summers,
when even the white cabbage butterfly is scarcely to be
found, this creature may be seen in every transient
gleam, drying its wings, and tripping from flower to
flower with animation and life, nearly the sole possessor
of the field and its sweets. Dry and exhausting as the
summer may be, yet this dusky butterfly is uninjured
by it, and we see it in profusion hovering about the
sapless foliage. In that arid summer of 1826, the
abundance of these creatures, and of the lady -bird

200 THE MOTH, AND THE

(coccinella septem punctata), was so obvious, as to be
remarked by very indifferent persons.

There is a large yellow under-wing moth (phalaena
pronuba), too, which is generally abundant. It hides
itself during the day in the thickest foliage, and screens
itself from the light in the moist grass crops of the
mead, where it is perpetually disturbed, and roused
from its rest, by the scythe of the mower. That ele-
gant little bird, the yellow wagtail, is a great destroyer
of this insect. It is very soon apprized of these move-
ments, and will often attend the steps of the mower,
fearless of harm, to watch for its prey. As soon as the
moth rises, it is chased ; and its exertions and shiftings
to escape, and the activity and perseverance of the bird
to capture it, are very amusing.

Opr lepidopterous insects feed upon various sub-
stances in their several states, and most of our butter-
flies, when perfected, appear to extract the sweet liquor
from the tubes or nectaries of plants, and many of our
moths obtain their nourishment by similar means : but
one butterfly alone, the admirable (v. Atalanta), and at
times the peacock (v. Io), feeds upon the juices of our
autumnal fruits ; and in the months of September and
October we may frequently see these beautiful creatures
basking and regaling themselves upon the rejected frag-
ments of our wall fruit They seldom prey upon the
growing produce, like the hornet, wasp, and hive bee,
but when it has fallen and advanced to a state of fer-
mentation, it becomes the most grateful to them. No-
thing can be less injurious than this propensity, and it
seems that fruit in such a state is requisite for them by
some constitutional formation, as they appear only at
the termination of a season when the product of our
trees is in a state of great ripeness and decay. The life
of this creature appears to be remarkably short, and we
have more certain means of ascertaining its duration,
than are afforded us for others of the race. It very
rarely appears until late in September, and then so per-
fect and fresh in its plumage as to manifest its recent
production from the chrysalis. In some years they
abound, and we may see twenty of these beautiful crea-

THE GAMMA MOTH.

201

tures expanding and closing their brilliant wings under
the fruit trees on our walls, or basking upon the disk of
some autumnal flower; and at another, perhaps, hardly
a specimen is to be obtained : nor do they seem like
the wasp to be scarce or abundant according to the de-
ficiency or plenty of the season, but influenced by other
causes. Many of our butterflies are produced by suc-
cessive hatches, supplying the places of those which
have been destroyed, and hence it is difficult to mark
the duration .of an individual ; and others, as the nettle,
peacock and wood tortoise, in many instances survive
the winter, hidden in some recess or sheltered apart-
ment, appearing in the spring time-worn and shabby.
But van. atalanta appears only in the autumn, not as a
preserved creature, but a recent production ; and hence
we can ascertain the period of its life to be comprised
only between those few days that intervene from the
end of September to the end of October, by which
time its food in our gardens has pretty well disappeared.
Some sheltered wall, garnished with the bloom of the
ivy, may prolong its being a little longer, but the cold
and dampness of the season soon destroy it ; rendering
the life of this creature, the most beautiful of our lepi-
dopterous tribes, of very brief duration.

The gamma moth (phakena gamma) is also another
creature, that seems in no way affected by moist seasons,
which retard the appearance, or apparently destroy so
many others of its kind. This creature has imprinted
on its dark wings a white character, something like the
letter Y, but more like the small Greek gamma, and
hence has received a pertinent name. Like Cain, it
bears with it, in all its wanderings, a mark that dis-
tinguishes it from others of its race. Its habits also are
quite unlike those of other moths, as it feeds principally
in the day-time ; and we see it late in the summer
whisking about with all the activity and action of the
hummingbird sphinx. Like the latter it keeps its wings,
while feeding, in a constant state of vibration; haunts
clover-fields, and the yellow blossoms of the wild mus-
tard, and the heads of the pasture scabious. It seems
little mindful of the common frosts of October, retiring

202

THE GOAT MOTH.

from us with such reluctance, that, should the autumn
be fine, we not uncommonly find it in some piece of
aftergrass, enjoying there the few flowers which linger
out the approaches of November.

In the autumn of the year 1827, the larvae of the
goat moth (phalaena cossus) abounded beyond any cus-
tomary proportion, and we could commonly see the
traces made by these creatures in the dust. They had
apparently fed during the summer in the earth, and
were now proceeding in search of a retreat during
winter to some old hedge-row tree, a part to repose,
and those which approached maturity, to abrade the
softer wood, and form their cases, preparatory to changing
to a final perfect state in the spring. At times we ob-
served them coursing along our paths with great strength
and activity ; and when not seen, that peculiar subtle
smell, which proceeds from them, and has been thought
to resemble that of the goat, was perceptible in all
our walks. The object and seat of this odor seem not
well understood. Some have conjectured it to proceed
from a fluid evacuated from the mouth, and discharged
to soften the wood in which they burrow. But it seems
inconsistent with any probability, that this creature,
which is furnished with such very powerful mandibles,
should be gifted with an auxiliary aid to accomplish
its object; while of the many insects that perforate
timber, most of them with inferior means, no other
possesses an equivalent agent to facilitate its labors ;
for not one of them, as far as we know, is so supplied.
Besides, if such were the purpose, the discharge would
be made only when required, and thus this unpleasant
odor not always perceptible. The microscope too does
not manifest the exudation of any fluid. The larva is
furnished with eight curious retractile processes on its
under side, in the manner of what entomologists call
the “ prolegs.” These are encircled with little hooks,
made use of probably to remove the fragments of the
wood, when broken off by the mandibles above, and
clear the passages. The strength of these jaws is so
great, that they will very soon destroy any common chip
box in which the animal may be placed, by abrading

THE GOAT MOTH. 203

the edges, to effect its escape. With us they chiefly
inhabit the ash ; and we very commonly see at the roots
of our aged trees the fragments removed by them in
forming their passages. In breaking up the decayed
pollards, we not unusually find the grub in all the stages
of its growth ; but more generally observe them with-
out inhabitants, yet perforated with paths large enough
to admit the finger. I suspect that these “ augerworms”
are the primary cause of the decay of the tree ; having
often observed their perforations, and found them, both
large and small, in the solid spur or root of the tree,
when the upper portion, having been bored and in a
state of decline, is abandoned by them. Those that are
full fed appear to form their cases in that part which
has lost coherency, while the younger and imperfected
creatures mine their way, and obtain nutriment in the
solid timber, thus killing the tree by inches ; when rain
and moisture find lodgment, and complete the dissolu-
tion. One year’s preparation is the period usually as-
signed to the larvae of most insects, before they arrive
at their perfect state ; but by the goat moth three years
are required before it attains its winged state from the
egg. Consequently, for the larger portion of its life it
is occupied in these destructive operations; and thus
this creature becomes a very powerful agent in reducing
these Titans of the vegetable world, crumbling them
away to their original dust : for what was decreed to be
the termination and punishment of man is found in
active operation throughout the whole chain of nature’s
works, which are but dust, and unto dust return, con-
tinuing an endless series of production and decay, of
restoration and of change. All these larvae which I have
observed in the colder portions of our year, were hard,
stiff, and torpid, but soon became relaxed and animated
by the warmth of the hand : thus they probably remain
quiet during the winter months, but revive in spring,
and recommence their ravage in the tree. The cater-
pillar of this moth I believe to be the largest of any
of those of the British lepidopterae ; and when full fed
exceeds in size that of the death’s-head sphinx. To
those who dislike the appearance of things of this nature,

DESIGNS OF NATURE

204

it is particularly disgusting ; not only from its magni-
tude and smell, but from its color, which is a lurid red,
so compounded with a dingy yellow, as to give it a
lividness of look, conveying the idea of something raw.
Common as the grub is in some years, I have seldom
been able to obtain the moth, without the often tedious
process of feeding the larvae, and waiting for its change.

Of those caterpillars which feed upon the foliage of
vegetation, a considerable portion are picked off and
consumed by the numerous little birds which are con-
stantly hunting after them, as food for themselves or
their young ones ; and many of those which are sup-
ported by the roots of plants, and remain covered in
the soil, are detected by the perception of rooks, and
birds of that order ; but those which feed upon the in-
ternal parts of trees seem exempted from any of these
causes of destruction. This is possibly a reason that
the larvse of phalaena cossus is so plentifully found ; but
yet it is pretty certain that some other and equally fatal
visitation assails them, and reduces their numbers
during the long period which is required to perfect
their state : for though, by feeding and care, (for they
are very impatient of confinement,) we can obtain the
moth in numbers, yet few seem to survive and become
perfected by the common processes of nature, at least
I have seldom found them in this state, though the larvae
is so plentifully seen.

The designs of supreme intelligence in the creation
and preservation of the insect world, and the regula-
tions and appointments whereby their increase or de-
crease is maintained, and periodical appearance pre-
scribed, are among the most perplexing considerations
of natural history. That insects are kept in reserve for
stated seasons of action, we know, being commonly
made the agents of Providence in his visitations of
mankind. The locust, the caterpillar, the palmer-worm,
the various family of blights, that poison in the spring
all the promise of the year, are insects. Mildew, indeed,
is a vegetable ; but the wireworm destroys the root, the
thrips the germ of the wheat, and hunger and famine
ensue. Many of the coleopteras remove nuisances, others

IN THE INSECT WORLD. 205

again encumbrances, and worms manure the soil ; but
these are trite and isolated cases in the profusion of the
animal world ; and, left alone, as we are, in the desert
of mere reason and conjecture, there is no probability
that much satisfactory elucidation will be obtained.
They are not perhaps important objects of inquiry ; but
when we see the extraordinary care and attention that
has been bestowed upon this part of creation, our as-
tonishment is excited, and forces into action that in-
herent desire in our minds to seek into hidden things.
In some calm summer’s evening ramble, we see the
air filled with sportive animated beings : the leaf, the
branch, the bark of the tree, every mossy bank, the
pool, the ditch, all teeming with animated life, with a
profusion, an endless variety of existence ; each crea-
ture pursuing its own separate purpose in a settled
course of action, admitting of no deviation or substitu-
tion, to accomplish or promote some ordained object.
Some appear occupied in seeking for the most appro-
priate stations for their own necessities, and exerting
stratagems and wiles to secure the lives of themselves
or their offspring against natural or possible injuries,
with a forethought equivalent or superior to reason ; the
aim in some others we can little perceive, or, should
some flash of light spring up, and give us a momentary
glimpse of nature’s hidden ways, immediate darkness
closes round, arid renders our ignorance more manifest.
We see a wonderfully fabricated creature struggling
from the cradle of its being, just perfected by the
elaboration of months or years, and decorated with a
vest of glorious splendor; it spreads its wings to the
light of heaven, and becomes the next moment, perhaps,
with all its marvellous construction, instinct, and splen-
dor, the prey of some wandering bird ! and human wis-
dom and conjecture are humbled to the dust. That
these events are ordinations of supreme intelligence,
for wise and good purposes, we are convinced ; but are
blind, beyond thought, as to secondary causes ; and ad-
miration, that pure source of intellectual pleasure, is
almost alone permitted to us. If we attempt to proceed
beyond this, we are generally lost in the mystery with

S

THE GLOW-WORM.

200

which the divine Architect has thought fit to surround
his works ; and perhaps our very aspirations after know-
ledge increase in us a sense of our ignorance : every
deep investigator into the works of nature can scarcely
possess other than an humble mind.

In all our pursuits we shall find in nature, whereso-
ever we can penetrate, a formation, a faculty adapted to
all the wants and comforts of the creature, yet the ob-
jects of infinite wisdom in the creation of this world
of matter, animate and inanimate, will probably never
be made known to mankind ; for though knowledge is
in a constant progressive state, and the attainments of
science in latter years have been comparatively pro-
digious, yet these acquirements are in fact but entan-
glements : they lead us deeper into surprise and per-
plexity, and the little perceptions of light which we
obtain serve to show how hopeless any attempt must be
to penetrate the secrets of infinity, a conviction, if we
“ dwell deep in the valley of humility,” that will in no
manner discourage our pursuits, but rather incite our
ardor to investigate so exhaustless a store, which will
lead us, from contemplation, to admiration, to devotion.

That pretty sparkler of our summer evenings, so
often made the plowboy’s prize, the only brilliant that
glitters in the rustic’s hat, the glow-worm (lampyris
noctiluca), is not found in such numbers with us, as in
many other places, where these signal tapers glimmer
upon every grassy bank ; yet, in some seasons, we have
a reasonable sprinkling of them. Every body probably
knows, that the male glow-worm is a winged, erratic
animal, yet may not have seen him. He has ever been
a scarce creature to me, meeting perhaps with one or
two in a year; and, when found, always a subject of
admiration. Most creatures have their eyes so placed
as to be enabled to see about them; or, as Hook says
of the house-fly, to be “ circumspect animals ; ” but this
male glow-worm has a contrivance by which any up-
ward or side vision is prevented. Viewed when at rest,
no portion of his eyes is visible, but the head is margined
with a horny band, or plate, being a character of one of
the genera of the order coleoptera, under which the

THE GLOW-WORM.

207

eyes are situate. This prevents all upward vision ; and
blinds, or winkers, are so fixed at the sides of his eyes
as greatly to impede the view of all lateral objects. The
chief end of this creature in his nightly peregrinations
is to seek his mate, always beneath him on the earth ;
and hence this apparatus appears designed to facilitate
his search, confining his view entirely to what is before
or below him. The first serves to direct his flight, the
other presents the object of his pursuit : and as we
commonly, and with advantage, place our hand over the
brow, to obstruct the rays of light falling from above,
which enables us to see clearer an object on the ground,
so must the projecting hood of this creature converge
the visual rays to a point beneath. This is a very curi-
ous provision for the purposes of the insect, if my con-
ception of its design be reasonable. Possibly the same
ideas may have been brought forward by others ; but,
as I have not seen them, I am not guilty of any undue
appropriation, and no injury can be done to the cause
I wish to promote, by detailing again such beautiful
and admirable contrivances.

Glow-worms emit light only for a short period in the
year ; and I have but partially observed it after the
middle of July. I have collected many of these pretty
creatures on a bank before my house, into which they
retire during the winter, to shine out again when re-
vived by the summer’s warmth; but in this latter sea-
son, I have frequently missed certain of my little
proteges, and have reason to apprehend that they form-
ed the banquet of a toad, that frequented the same
situation.

Observing above, that the glow-worm does not emit
light after the 14th of July, I mean thereby that clear,
steady light, which has rendered this creature so re-
markable to all persons ; for I have repeatedly noticed,
deep in the herbage, a faint evanescent light proceeding
from these creatures, even as late as August and Sep-
tember. This was particularly manifested September
the 28th, 1826. The evening was warm and dewy, and
we observed on the house-bank multitudes of these
small evanescent sparks in the grass. The light dis-

208

EGGS OF THE SNAKE.

played was very different from that which they exhibit
in the warm summer months. Instead of the permanent
green glow that illumines all the blades of the sur-
rounding herbage, it was a pale transient spot, visible
for a moment or two, and then so speedily hidden that
we were obliged, in order to capture the creature, to
employ the light of a candle. The number of them,
and their actions, creeping away from our sight, con-
trary to that half-lifeless dullness observed in summer,
suggested the idea that the whole body had availed
themselves of this warm, moist evening, to migrate to
their winter station. A single spark or so was to be
seen some evenings after this, but no such large moving
parties were discovered again. If we conclude, that
the summer light of the glow-worm is displayed as a
signal taper, the appearance of this autumnal light can
have no such object in view, nor can we rationally as-
sign any use of it to the creature itself, unless, indeed,
it serves as a point of union in these supposed migra-
tions, like the leading call in the flight of night-moving
birds. The activity and numbers of these insects, in
the above-mentioned evening, enabled me to observe
the frequent presence and disappearance of the light
of an individual, which did not seem to be the result
of will, but produced by situation. During the time
the insect crawled along the ground, or upon the fine
grass, the glow was hidden; but on its mounting any
little blade, or sprig of moss, it turned round and pre-
sented the luminous caudal spot, which, on its falling
or regaining its level, was hidden again.

My laborer this day, July the 18th, in turning over
some manure, laid open a mass of snake’s eggs (coluber
natrix), fifteen only, and they must have been recently
deposited, the manure having very lately been placed
where they were found. They were larger than the
eggs of a sparrow, obtuse at each end, of a very pale
yellow color, feeling tough and soft like little bags of
some gelatinous substance. The interior part consisted
of a glareous matter like that of the hen, enveloping
the young snake, imperfect, yet the eyes and form suffi-
ciently defined. Snakes must protrude their eggs singly,

HARMLESSNESS OF SNAKES.

209

but probably all at one time, as they preserve no regu-
lar disposition of them, but place them in a promiscuous
heap. At the time of protrusion they appear to be sur-
rounded with a clammy substance, which, drying in the
air, leaves the mass of eggs united wherever they touch
each other. I have heard of forty eggs being found in
these deposits ; yet, notwithstanding such provision for
multitudes, the snake, generally speaking, is not a very
common animal. The kite, the buzzard, and the raven,
which prey on it occasionally, are too seldom found
greatly to reduce the race ; and its deep retirement in
the winter seems to secure it from fatal injuries by the
severity of the weather : yet in the warm days of spring,
when it awakens from its torpidity and basks upon our
sunny banks, the numbers that appear are not propor-
tionate to what might be expected from the number of
eggs produced. Few creatures can assail it in its dor-
mitory, yet its paucity proves that it is not exempt from
mortality and loss. The mole may follow it in its re-
tirement, but would hardly attempt to seize so large an
animal. The polecat and the weasel too can enter its
runs ; are sufficiently bold and strong to attempt the
conquest ; and not improbably in the winter season re-
sort to such food, the poor snake having no power of
defending itself, or of avoiding the assault. The com-
mon snake of this country is a very harmless, unobtru-
sive creature ; so timid, as to avoid the presence of man
whenever he appears, hiding itself as much as possible
in bushes and rugged places from his sight. At times
a strong fetor proceeds from it ; but this appears to be
sexual, or made use of as the means of annoying its
enemies. It possesses no power to commit injury, and
has apparently no inclination to molest any thing beyond
its requirements for food, as frogs and mice. When a
young man, I have repeatedly handled it with impunity ;
and though often bitten, a temporary swelling, with
slight inflammation, was the only result ; but in these
experiments the viper must not be mistaken for the
common snake. Yet this poor creature, under the curse
of ignorance and cruelty, never escapes unscathed from
power and opportunity. All the snake tribe, innocuous

S3

GENERAL AVERSION TO SNAKES.

210

and pernicious, seem to be viewed with horror and
aversion by mankind. This horror, from the knowledge
of their power of inflicting harm in countries where
such kinds are found, is natural, and often preservative
of life ; but the aversion generally felt, and that shud-
dering occasionally noticed at the sight of our harmless
snake, is like a deep-rooted principle. We imbibe in
infancy, and long retain in remembrance the impression
of injuries from the wiles of the serpent; and the
“ enmity between it and the seed of the woman” ap-
pears still in full operation, and is possibly more exten-
sively and insensibly diffused among mankind than we
are aware of. The harmless nature of our snake seems
to be fully known to the little birds of the hedge, as
they in no way give intimation of its presence by any
warning of avoidance to their young, or that insulting
vociferation so observable when any really injurious
creature is perceived, but hop and sport about the bask-
ing snake without fear or notice.

All the human race seem to have inherited the origi-
nal anathema against this creature ; for though the
capricious cruelty of man is very frequently exerted
to the injury of many that his power enables him to
tyrannize over, yet the serpent appears to be a peculiar
object of his enmity, as if it was understood to be an
absolute duty to bruise his head,” whenever the oppor-
tunity should be afforded.

It is very remarkable how few noxious creatures,
animals which annoy man, inhabit with us ; beasts and
birds we have none, for The petty depredations occa-
sionally made on his property are undeserving of atten-
tion. The gnat, and perhaps a few insects, may at times
puncture our skin, but the period of action is brief, the
injury only temporary. The wasp and the hornet, I
believe, very rarely use their weapons wantonly, only
in self-defence and when persecuted ; thus leaving the
balance incalculably in favor of innocency and harm-
lessness. But of all the guiltless beings, which are met
with, we have none less chargeable with criminality than
the poor slow-worm (anguis fragilis), yet none are more
frequently destroyed than it— included as it is in the

THE SLOW-WORM.

211

general and deep-rooted prejudice attached to the ser-
pent race. The viper and the snake, though they ex-
perience no mercy, escape often by activity of action ;
but this creature, from the slowness of his movements,
falls a more frequent victim. We call it a 6 blind worm,’
possibly from the supposition that as it makes little
effort to escape, it sees badly ; but its eyes, though
rather small, are clear and lively, with no apparent de-
fect of vision. The natural habits of the slow-worm are
obscure ; but living in the deepest foliage, and the
roughest banks, he is generally secreted from observa-
tion ; and loving warmth, like all his race, he creeps
half torpid from his hole, to bask in spring-time in the
rays of the sun, and is, if seen, inevitably destroyed.
Exquisitely formed as all these gliding creatures are,
for rapid and uninterrupted transit through herbage and
such impediments, it is yet impossible to examine a
slow-worm without admiration at the peculiar neatness
and fineness of the scales with which it is covered.
All separate as they are, yet they lap over, and close
upon each other with such exquisite exactitude, as to
appear only as faint markings upon the skin, requiring
a magnifier to ascertain their separations ; and, to give
him additional facility’ of proceeding through rough
places, these are all highly polished, appearing lustrous in
the sun, the animal looking like a thick piece of tarnish-
ed copper wire. When surprised in his transit from the
hedge, contrary to the custom of the snake or viper,
which writhe themselves away into the grass in the
ditch, he stops, as if fearful of proceeding, or to escape
observation by remaining motionless, but if touched
he makes some effort to escape : this habit of the poor
slow-worm becomes frequently the cause of his de-
struction.

Of all the active, vigilant creatures that animate our
paths, we have none superior to the little, bee-like
bombylius (bombylius medius) ; but this creature is to
be seen only in the mornings of a few bright days in
spring, seeming to delight in the hot, windy gleams of
that season, presenting an emblem of that portion of
our year, fugitive and violent. It is, I believe, plentiful

THE GREAT BLACK ANT.

212

nowhere. Particularly solicitous of warmth, it seeks
the dry sunny reflection of some sheltered gravel-walk,
or ditch-bank in a warm lane; and here it darts and
whisks about, in seeming continual suspicion or danger ;
starting away with angry haste, yet returning immedi-
ately to the spot it had left ; buffeting and contending
with every winged fly that approaches, with a jealous,
pugnacious fury, that keeps it in constant agitation.
This action, its long projecting proboscis, and its pretty,
spotted wings, placed at right angles with its body, dis-
tinguish our bombylius from every other creature. It
appears singularly cautious of settling on the ground.
After long hovering over and surveying some open spot,
with due deliberation and the utmost gentleness it com-
mits its long, delicate feet to the earth ; but on the ap-
proach of any winged insect, or on the least alarm, is
away again to combat or escape. Associates it has none:
the approach even of its own race excites its ire, and,
darting at them with the celerity of thought, it drives
them from its haunts. When a captive it becomes tame
and subdued, and loses all its characterestic bustling
and activity, the inspiration of freedom.

The great black ant (formica fuliginosa) is commonly
found in all little copses, animating by its numbers
those large heaps of vegetable fragments, which it col-
lects and is constantly increasing with unwearied in-
dustry and perseverance as a receptacle for its eggs.
The game-fowl, the woodpecker, the wryneck, and all
the birds that feed upon the little red ant, and soon de-
populate the hillocks which they select, do not seem
equally to annoy this larger species. These systematic
creatures appear always to travel from and return to
their nests inK direct lines, from which no trifling ob-
stacle will divert them ; and any interruption on this
public highway they resent, menacing the intruder with
their vengeance. A neighbor related to me an instance
of this unyielding disposition, which he witnessed in
one of our lanes. Two parties of these black ants were
proceeding from different nests upon a foraging expe-
dition, when the separate bodies happened to meet each
other. Neither would give way ; and a violent contest

COMBATS BETWEEN ANTS. 213

for the passage ensued. After a time the combat ceased,
and all animosity subsided, each party retiring to its
nest, carrying with it its dead and maimed companions.
This encounter seemed quite accidental, and the dispo-
sition to move in a uniform line, which their meeting
prevented, the sole cause of their hostility, combat, and
mutual injury. The strength of some creatures, espe-
cially insects, considering the smallness of their size,
is in several instances prodigious. Man, by his reason
and power, calls to his aid mechanical means, and
other agents, to effect his objects ; but unreasoning be-
ings accomplish their purposes by contrivance and bodily
powers. The strength of these black ants is manifested
by the quantity and magnitude of the materials which
they collect for their heaps ; but the common little red
ant (formica rubea), a much smaller creature, gives
daily proofs of its abilities to remove heavy substances,
equal to any that we meet with. One of these little
creatures, thirty-six of which only weigh a single grain,
I have seen bear away the great black fly as its prize,
equal to a grain in weight, with considerable ease ; and
even the wasp, which exceeds forty times its own weight,
will be dragged away by the labor and perseverance
of an individual emmet. These little ants are occasion-
ally and profusely deprived of their lives by some
unknown visitation. In the year 1826, in particular,
and again in the following year, I observed, in the month
of August, a lane strewed with their bodies. They had
bred during the summer in an adjoining bank ; but some
fatality had overwhelmed them when absent from their
nests, and nearly annihilated the fraternity, as only a
few scattered survivors were to be seen feebly inspect-
ing the bodies of their associates. The task of removal,
however, with all their industry, appeared beyond their
powers to accomplish, as on the ensuing day few had
been taken away. Had these creatures been destroyed
in combat by rival contention, the animosity must have
been excessive; but it is more probable that they met
their death by some other infliction.

One year, on the 3d of March, my laborer being em-
ployed in cutting up ant-hills, or tumps, as we call

214 ANTS NOT INJURED BY COLD.

them, exposed to view multitudes of the yellow species
(formica flava) in their winter’s retirement. They were
collected in numbers in little cells and compartments,
communicating with others by means of narrow pas-
sages. In many of the cells they had deposited their
larvae, which they were surrounding and attending, but
not brooding over or covering. Being disturbed by our
rude operations, they removed them from our sight to
more hidden compartments. The larvae were small.
Some of these ant-hills contained multitudes of the
young of the woodlouse (oniscus armadillo), inhabiting
with perfect familiarity the same compartments as the
ants, crawling about with great activity with them, and
perfectly domesticated with each other. They were
small and white ; but the constant vibration of their
antennae, and the alacrity of their motions, manifested
a healthy vigor. The ants were in a somewhat torpid
state; but on being removed into a temperate room,
they assumed much of their summer animation. How
these creatures are supported during the winter season
it is difficult to comprehend, as in no one instance could
we perceive any store or provision made for the supply
of their wants. The minute size of the larvae manifested
that they had been recently deposited ; and consequently
that their parents had not remained during winter in a
dormant state, and thus free from the calls of hunger.
The preceding month of February, and part of January,
had been remarkably severe ; the frost had penetrated
deep into the earth, and long held it frozen ; the ants
were in many cases not more than four inches beneath
the surface, and must have been inclosed in a mass of
frozen soil for a long period ; yet they, their young, and
the onisci, were perfectly uninjured by it ; affording an-
other proof of the fallacy of the commonly received
opinion, that cold is universally destructive to insect
life. Some creatures may be injured or destroyed by
frost, but the larger portion of them nature has provided
with constitutions to which it is innocuous, or furnished
wTith instinct to prevent its harming them. These
emmets had probably received no substance, or required
any, from the time of their retirement in the autumn, a

THE COMMON NEWTS. 215

period of full six months; were inclosed during the
space of thirty days in a mass of frozen earth, and yet
remained perfectly uninjured by this long abstinence
and frost.

Water, in a state of rest over decayed and putrescent
vegetable matter, is peculiarly favorable for the resi-
dence of many of the insect world. The eggs that are
lodged there remain undisturbed by the agitation of the
element, and the young produced from them, or de-
posited there by viviparous creatures, remain in quiet,
tolerably secure from accidental injuries ; but there are
natural causes which render these apparent asylums the
fields of ravenousness and of death. To these places
resort many of those voracious insects and other crea-
tures, which prey upon the smaller and helpless ; for all
created things seem subordinate to some more powerful
or irresistible agent, from the hardly visible atom that
floats in the pool, to man, who claims and commands
the earth as his own. But we have no animal that
seems to commit greater destruction in these places
than the common newt (lacertus aquaticus). In some
of these well-stored magazines this reptile will grow to
a large size, and become unusually warty, and bloated
with repletion ; feeding and fattening upon the unre-
sisting beings that abound in those dark waters wherein
it loves to reside. It will take a worm from the hook
of those that angle in ponds ; and in some places I have
seen the boys in the spring of the year draw it up by
their fishing-lines, a very extraordinary figure, having a
small shell-fish (tellina cornea) attached to one or all of
its feet ; the toes of the newt having been accidentally
introduced into the gaping shell, in its progress on the
mud at the bottom of the pool, or designedly put in for
the purpose of seizure, when the animal inhabitant
closed the valves and entrapped the toes. But from
whatever causes these shells became fixed, when the
animal is drawn up hanging and wriggling with its toes
fettered all round, it affords a very unusual and strange
appearance.

Water, quiet, still water, affords a place of action to
a very amusing little fellow (gyrinus natator), which

THE WATER-FLEA.

216

about the month of April, if the weather be tolerably
mild, we see gamboling upon the surface of the shel-
tered pool ; and every schoolboy, who has angled for a
minnow in the brook, is well acquainted with this merry
swimmer in his shining black jacket. Retiring in the
autumn, and reposing all the winter in the mud at the
bottom of the pond, it awakens in the spring, rises to
the surface, and commences its summer sports. They
associate in small parties of ten or a dozen, near the
bank, where some little projection forms a bay, or ren-
ders the water particularly tranquil ; and here they will
circle round each other without contention, each in his
sphere, and with no apparent object, from morning until
night, with great sprightliness and animation ; and so
lightly do they move on the fluid, as to form only some
faint and transient circles on its surface. Very fond of
society, we seldom see them alone, or, if parted by ac-
cident, they soon rejoin their busy companions. One
pool commonly affords space for the amusement of
several parties ; yet they do not unite, or contend, but
perform their cheerful circlings in separate family as-
sociations. If we interfere with their merriment they
seem greatly alarmed, disperse, or dive to the bottom,
where their fears shortly subside, as we soon again see
our little merry friends gamboling as before.

This lively little animal, arising from its winter re-
treat shortly after the frog, at times in March, continues
its gambols all the summer long, remaining visible
generally until the middle of October, thus enjoying a
full seven months of being ; a long period of existence
for insects, which are creatures subject to so many con-
tingencies, that their lives appear to be commonly but

nef, and the race continued by successive productions.

A these water creatures must be endowed with much
perception. Cold as this element is in early spring,
when the ice of winter is hardly dissolved, and the fluid
only 6 or 7 degrees above freezing, yet they become
immediately sensible of this temperature, and are ex-
cited to animation and the vocations of their being. I
have never observed the larvae of this creature in any
state. When they retire in the autumn, these insects

THE DORR BEETLE.

217

appear of a uniform size, and emerging in the spring
they are all apparently full grown, and during the sum-
mer none of smaller dimensions associate with the
family parties. This plain, tiny, gliding water-flea
seems a very unlikely creature to arrest our young at-
tentions ; but the boy with his angle has not often much
to engage his notice ; and the social, active parties of
this nimble swimmer, presenting themselves at these
periods of vacancy, become insensibly familiar to his
sight, and by many of us are not observed in after life
without recalling former hours, scenes of perhaps less
anxious days : for trifles like these, by reason of some
association, are often remembered, when things of
greater moment pass off, and leave no trace upon our
mind.

July 29, — We frequently notice in our evening walks
the murmuring passage, and are often stricken by the
heedless flight, of the great dorr beetle (scarabaeus ster-
corarius), clocks,* as the boys call them. But this
evening my attention was called to them in particular
by the constant passing of such a number as to consti-
tute something like a little stream ; and I was led to
search into the object of their direct flight, as in general
it is irregular and seemingly inquisitive. I soon found
that they dropped on some recent nuisance : but what
powers of perception must these creatures possess,
drawn from all distances and directions by the very lit-
i tie fetor, which in such a calm evening could be dif-
fused around ! and by what inconceivable means could

* Pvlultitudes of words are retained in our language derived from
very ancient dialects, and possibly the name “ dock,” as given to this
beetle, conveying no meaning to our present comprehensions, is a
corruption of some syllable in former use. Its subterranean resi-
dence might have been signified by the old word “ cloax,” a vault,
a creature from below. Or, burrowing in filth and ordure, as it does,
the epithet “ clocca,” the offspring of a common shore, or jakes,
would not have been insignificant of its origin and habits. Fancy,
; too, playing with trifles, amuses itself in bandying about even its
1 more general appellative, dorr. In old times a “ dorr” was a stupid,
blundering fellow ; and “ to dorr,” was to din, or trouble with noise ;
both meanings applicable to the heedless flight, and loud noise, made
in all the transits of this dung beetle.

T

THE DORR BEETLE.

218

odors reach this beetle in such a manner as to rouse so
inert an insect into action ! But it is appointed one of
the great scavengers of the earth, and marvellously en-
dowed with powers of sensation, and means of effecting
this purpose of its being. Exquisitely fabricated as it
is to receive impressions, yet probably it is not more
highly gifted than any of the other innumerable crea-
tures, that wing their way around us, or creep about our
path, though by this perceptible faculty, thus “ dimly
seen,” it excites our wonder and surprise. u How won-
drous then the whole ! ”

This creature affords us a good example of that ex-
traordinary artifice, to which some insects have recourse
upon the apprehension of danger, the counterfeiting of
death. The dorr, with a violent and noisy flight, pro-
ceeds on its way, or circles around with an apparent
fearlessness of harm ; yet the instant it is touched, or
interrupted in its progress, though in no way injured, it
will immediately fall to the ground, generally prostrate
on its back, its limbs extended, stiff, and seemingly de-
void of life, and suffering itself to be handled without
manifesting any signs of animation. In time, finding
no harm ensues, it resumes its former state. If our
conjectures be correct, that the object of this stratagem
is to preserve its life, it is difficult to comprehend how
far it can be successful. Several birds feed on it, as
we observed ; and that others do so likewise is evident
from their castings. Of these, the owl and the nightjar
catch it when on the wing ; and the crows, rooks, mag-
pies, &c., seem to have no hesitation in picking it to
pieces, as well as all the other beetles, that put on the
semblance of death, in whatever state they find them.
One or two beasts, it is said, when captured, feign death.
With these exceptions, we remember none of the other
orders of creation, that have recourse to such an expe-
dient upon any emergency ; but with insects it is by no
means an uncommon procedure, most probably resorted
to by them for a motive we are not fully acquainted
with, and which is in all likelihood attended with the
success it was designed to effect.

The perfect cleanliness of these creatures is a very

CLEANLINESS OF ANIMALS.

219

notable circumstance, when we consider that nearly
their whole lives are passed in burrowing in the earth,
and removing nuisances ; yet such is the admirable
polish of their coating and limbs, that we very seldom
find any soil adhering to them. The meloe, and some
of the scarabsei, upon first emerging from their winter’s
retreat, are commonly found with earth clinging to
them ; but the removal of this is one of the first opera-
tions of the creature ; and all the beetle race, the chief
occupation of which is crawling about the soil, and
such dirty employs, are notwithstanding remarkable for
the glossiness of their covering, and freedom from de-
filements of any kind. But purity of vesture seems to
be a principal precept of nature, and observable
throughout creation. Fishes, from the nature of the
element in which they reside, can contract but little
impurity. Birds are unceasingly attentive to neatness
and lustration of their plumage. Ail the slug race,
though covered with slimy matter calculated to collect
extraneous things, and reptiles, are perfectly free from
soil. The fur and hair of beasts in a state of liberty
and health is never filthy, or sullied with dirt. Some
birds roll themselves in dust, and occasionally, particu-
larly beasts, cover themselves with mire ; but this is not
from any liking or inclination for such things, but to
free themselves from annoyances, or to prevent the
bites of insects. Whether birds in preening, and beasts
in dressing themselves, be directed by any instinctive
faculty, we know not ; but they evidently derive plea-
sure from the operation, and thus this feeling of enjoy-
ment, even if the sole motive, becomes to them an es-
sential source of comfort and of health.

It may be noted probably by some, how frequently
I recur to the causes and objects of the faculties, man-
ners, and tendencies of animate and inanimate things.
This recurrence springs from no cavil at the wisdom, no
suspicion of the fitness of the appointment, nor, I trust,
from any excitement to presumptuous pryings into paths
which are in the great deep, and not to be searched
out; but are humbly indulged, from the pleasure which
the contemplation of perfect wisdom, even in a state

COCKCHAFFERS.

220

of ignorance, affords ; and if by any consideration we
can advance one point nearer to the comprehension of
what is hidden, we infinitely increase our satisfaction
and delight.

May 24, 1827.~ Abundance of cockchaffers (melo-
lantha vulgaris) are flying about, yet by no means in
the profusion of some years. How much at times the
interest of man and the wild creatures about him are
at variance ! Those that are domesticated and precluded
from obtaining food but by his permission, have their
welfare in part identified with his — they may share in
his abundance, or pine from his parsimony ; but the in-
dependents of the field are differently circumstanced.
The appearance of these chaffers, in any numbers, is
very uncertain and partial, but in those summers when
they abound, very extensive injuries frequently ensue.
In the grub state, they will entirely destroy the pastures
where they inhabit, by consuming the roots of the grass-
es ; acres and fields are deprived of their produce, be-
coming brown as stubbles, with only a sprig or tuft of
green useless vegetation observable in them ; the grain
crop likewise totally fails when the larvae of this chaffer
feeds in the field. Upon assuming their winged state,
they devour the foliage of the oak and other trees so
effectually, that entire copses may be seen early in June
defoliated by their depredations. So much for their in-
jury to man : but now the feast of the wilding com-
mences— the plow in April dislodges multitudes of
these long white grubs. Dogs then seek them eagerly
to eat, but they seem to be surfeited by the food ; for,
though fattened at first, they afterwards become dis-
eased, and lose their hair. Rooks and crows are run-
ning over the ridges, busily seeking for this larvae ; the
swine find it out, and come in for their share, and hav-
ing finished here, they commence grubbing in the
grass lands. The insect now soon takes wing, and then
every tree in the wood or the brake becomes a scene
of plunder and delight to all the train from the rookery
—the cats will eat him — every sparrow that flies by has
a chaffer in its mouth, captured on the wing or snatched
from the spray, and now to be pecked to pieces on the

CHANGES THAT TAKE PLACE IN NATURE. 221

ground- — -the thrush feasts too, and all the poultry in the
yard are running after chaffers, or chasing each other
for the prize ; and thus this insect supplies in one state
or another a general feast to many.

Surrounded as we are by wonders of every kind, and
existing only by a miraculous concurrence of events,
admiration seems the natural avocation of our being;
nor is it easy to pronounce amidst such a creation what
is most wonderful. But few things appear more incom-
prehensible than the constant production and reabsorp-
tion of matter, impressed upon us even by these very
dorrs. An animal falls to the ground and dies; myriads
of creatures are now summoned by a call, by an impulse
of which we have no perception, to remove it, and pre-
pare it for a new combination ; chemical agencies, fer-
mentation, and solution, immediately commence their
actions to separate the parts, and in a short time, of all
this great body, nothing remains but the framework or
bones, perhaps a little hair or some wool, and all the
rest is departed we know not whither ! Worms and in-
sects have done their parts ; the earth has received a
portion, and the rest, converted into gases, and exhalable
matters, has dispersed all over the region, which, receiv-
ed into vegetable circulation, is again separated and
changed, becomes modified anew, and nourishes that
which is to continue the future generations of life. The
petal of the rose ; the pulp of the peach ; the azure
and the gold on the wing of the insect ; all the various
productions of the animal and vegetable world ; the
very salts and compounds of the soil, are but the changes
some other matters have undergone, which have circu-
lated through innumerable channels since the first pro-
duction of all things, and no particle been lost ; bearing
in mind this assured truth, that all these combinations
have not been effected by chance or peculiarity of cir-
cumstances, but by the predetermination of an Almighty
Intelligence, who sees the station, progress, and final
destination of an atom, what an infinity of power and
intellective spirit does this point out ! an omnipotence,
which the bodied minds of us poor creatures cannot

T 2

222 THE DEATH'S-HEAD MOTH.

conceive. Truly may we say, “who can find out the
Almighty to perfection ? ”

Our extensive cultivation of the potato furnishes us
annually with several specimens of that fine animal the
death’s-head moth (acherontia atropos), and in some
years I have had as many as eight brought me in the
larva or chrysalis state. Their changes are very un-
certain. I have had the larva change to a chrysalis in
July, and produce the moth in October ; but generally
the aurelia remains unchanged till the ensuing summer.
The larvae or caterpillars, “ strange ungainly beasts,” as
some of our peasantry call them, excite constant atten-
tion when seen, by their extraordinary size and un-
common mien, with horns and tail, being not unusually
five inches in length, and as thick as a finger. This
creature was formerly considered as one of our rarest
insects, and doubtful if truly indigenous ; but for the
last twenty years, from the profuse cultivation of the
potato, is become not very uncommon in divers places.
Many insects are now certainly found in England, which
former collectors, indefatigable as they were, did not
know that we possessed ; while others again have been
lost to us moderns. Some probably might be introduced
with the numerous exotic plants recently imported, or
this particular food may have tended to favor the increase
of rarely existent natives ; but how such a creature as
this could have been brought with any plant is quite
beyond comprehension. We may import continental
varieties of potatoes, but the death’s-head moth we have
never observed to have any connexion with the tuber
itself, or inclination for it. As certain soils will pro-
duce plants by exposure to the sun’s rays, or by aid of
peculiar manures, when no pre-existent root or germ
could rationally be supposed to exist ; so will peculiar
and long intervening seasons give birth to insects from
causes not to be divined. We may perhaps conclude,
that some concurrence produced this sphinx, and then
its favorite food, the potato plant, nourished it, to the
augmentation of its species.

Superstition has been particularly active in suggesting
causes of alarm from the insect world ; and where man

THE DEATH’S-HEAD MOTH.

223

should have seen only beauty and wisdom, he has often
found terror and dismay. The yellow and brown tailed
moths, the deathwatch, our snails, as mentioned in
p. 231, and many others, have all been the subjects of
his fears ; but the dread excited in England by the ap-
pearance, noises, or increase of insects, are petty appre-
hensions, when compared with the horror that the pres-
ence of this acherontia occasions to some of the more
fanciful and superstitious natives of northern Europe,
maintainers of the wildest conceptions. A letter is now
before me from a correspondent in German Poland,
where this insect is a common creature, and so abound-
ed in 1824, that my informer collected fifty of them in
the potato fields of his village, where they call them
the “ death’s-head phantom,” the “ wandering death-
bird,” &c. The markings on its back represent to these
fertile imaginations the head of a perfect skeleton, with
the limb bones crossed beneath ; its cry becomes the
voice of anguish, the moaning of a child, the signal of
grief; it is regarded not as the creation of a benevolent
being, but the device of evil spirits, spirits enemies to
man, conceived and fabricated in the dark ; and the
very shining of its eyes is thought to represent the
fiery element whence it is supposed to have proceeded.
Flying into their apartments in the evening, it at times
extinguishes the light, foretelling war, pestilence, hun-
ger, death to man and beast. We pity, rather than ridi-
cule these fears; their consequences being painful
anxiety of mind and suffering of body. However, it
seems these vain imaginations are flitting away before
the light of reason and experience. In Germany as in
England, they were first observed on the jasmine, but
now exclusively upon the potato, though they will enter
the bee-hives, to feed on the honey found in them. This
insect has been thought to be peculiarly gifted in having
a voice, and squeaking like a mouse, when handled or
disturbed ; but in truth no insect that we know of has
the requisite organs to produce a genuine voice. They
emit sounds by other means, probably all external.
The grasshopper and the cricket race effect their well-
known and often wearisome chirpings by grating their

224 THE GREAT WATER-BEETLE.

spiny thighs against their rigid wings ; and this ache*
rontia atropos appears to produce the noise it at times
makes, which reminds us of the spring call of the rail
or corncrake, by scratching its mandible, or the instru-
ment that it perforates with, against its horny chest.
The object of this noise is apparently a mere sexual
call. Heavy and unwieldly creatures, they travel badly,
and from the same cause fly badly and with labor ; and
as they commonly hide themselves deep in the foliage
and obscurity, without some such signal of their pres-
ence a meeting of the parties would seldom be accom-
plished.

Another of the ravenous creatures that infest our
pools is the great water-beetle (ditiscus marginalis) ;
and perhaps it is the most ferocious of any of them,
being adapted by every provision for a life of rapine,
endued with great muscular power, armed with a thick
and horny case over its body, and having its eyes large
to observe all the creatures about it, and powerful man-
dibles to seize and reduce them to fragments. It riots
on the polyphemus of the pool ; and having thinned its
herd in one place, is supplied with wings to effect a
removal to a fold better furnished. It even eats the
young of the frog ; and its bite is so powerful, as to be
painfully felt by the hand that holds it a captive, though
defended by a glove. In the larvae state it is almost
equally destructive ; it swims admirably ; its hinder
legs are long and brawny, beside being aided by a
fringe of hairs, so that they are powerful oars to propel
its body with celerity and ease. Nor must we omit a
peculiarity attending the constitution of this beetle,
which marks it as as a creature especially endowed for
the station in which it is placed. Multitudes of insects
exist in the larva state for a certain space of time in
water, and, having accomplished a given period in this
state perfecting their forms, they take wings and be-
come aerial creatures, after which a return to the ele-
ment whence they sprang would be death to them. But
this beetle, when it has passed from the larva state and
obtained its wings, still lives in that water which nour-
ished it to this state of perfection, without any incon-

THE GREAT WATER-BEETLE.

225

venience, as long as it suits its inclination ; when weary
of this place, or its food becoming scarce, it wings its
way to another pool, into which it immediately plunges,
and recommences its life of rapine. Having deposited
its eggs in autumn, we suppose it to die in the winter ;
yet many may survive this season, and, arising from the
mud in the spring, be undistinguished from the recently
perfected larvae. Such little notices and indications of
the habits of these obscure creatures, though certainly
unimportant, are not perhaps wholly unprofitable ; for
we so darkly see our way, and proceed so slowly in ac-
quiring intelligence of the paths of nature, that nothing
should be considered as beneath regard that we meet
with in them, and every advancing step must elevate
the mind, as it affords additional knowledge of the
solicitude and provision of the great Architect of crea-
tion in the appointment and endowment of his crea-
tures ; since, though we are very rarely able to compre-
hend even the object of existence, we see sufficient to
convince us, that such care and such powers were not
bestowed except for some wise and good purpose. It
seems hardly possible that mankind can ever obtain any-
thing approaching to the comprehension of the motives
of Providence, because they have not, as far as is ap-
parent to us, individual and separate bearings, but are
connecting and in concordance with a series of in-
fluences, and consequently the whole should be seen,
fitly to understand a part ; and this mighty mechanism
what human mind can embrace ? Heaven metes out to
man by degrees something of its laws and ordinances ;
but no life, no period, can exhaust that store of hidden
| wisdom, by which these mandates have been decreed*,
every little transitory view that we obtain should be
received with gratitude as an advance in knowledge, a
progress in the wisdom of Him who hath ordained all
things in truth.

The eye of the naturalist, prying about in places
where those of indifferent persons are rarely fixed, sees
many things, that others do not notice, or observe with-
out interest, from forming no connexion with any pre-
vious subject of pursuit. Few perhaps would stay to

THE CLAY HAIRWORM.

226

inspect the clay hairworm (gordius argillaceus), yet it is
a very curious creature. We find it at the bottoms of
drains and ditches, chiefly in the spring ot the year.
Its color is a pale yellow ; and it appears like some long
vegetable fibre, or root, coiled up and twisted together.
The whole body of the animal consists of numerous
annulations, or rings, by means of which it has the
power of contracting its substance, as it has likewise
of extending it, until it becomes nearly a foot in length,
and smooth as a wire. The extreme points are trans-
parent and tapering, formed of apparently harder ma-
terials than the body. The designation of most of our
small land and water creatures, in the economy of crea-
tion, i^ very obscure ; and owing to the places they
frequent, and the secrecy of their actions, amidst mud
and vegetation, we have little opportunity of becoming
acquainted with their habits. This hairworm, however,
is rather less mysterious in its movements than some
others ; and there is cause to suppose that its chief oc-
cupation is that of forming perforations and openings
in clayey soils, admitting by this means water to pervade
the mass, and open it ; the finer roots of vegetables
then find entrance, and part it yet more, or decay in it,
and meliorate and fertilize the substance.

Wonderful as all the appointments and endowments
of insects are, there is no part of their economy more
extraordinary than the infinite variety of forms and
materials to which they have recourse in the fabrication
of their nests ; and, as far as we can comprehend, their
expediency for the various purposes required. Among
those, with which I am acquainted, none pleases me
more than that of a solitary wasp (vespa campanaria),
which occasionally visits us here. It is not a common
insect ; but I have met with their nests. One was fixed
beneath a piece of oak bark, placed in a pile ; another
was pendent in the hollow of a bank of earth. The
materials, which composed these abodes, seemed to be
particles scraped or torn from the dry parts of the willow,
sallow, or some such soft wood, and cemented again by
animal glue, very similar in texture to that provided by
the common wasp, which makes great use of the half-

THE HORNET.

227

decayed wood of the ash, and will penetrate through
crevices in the bark, to abrade away the dry wood be-
neath. They seem to have but small families, ten or
twelve cells only being provided. These are situate at
the bottom of an egg-shaped cup, contracted at the
lower end, where an^jorifice is left for the entrance.
This again is covered, in the part where the cells are
placed, by a loose hood, or shed, extending about half-
way down the inner one. The pendent situation of the
■whole, and this external hood, round which the air has
a free circulation, are admirably contrived for securing
the cells from injury by water. The nest, when hanging
in its proper situation, is like the commencement of
some paper-work flower, and can never be observed
but with admiration at the elegance of its structure ;
and the unusual appearance of the whole must excite
the attention of the most incurious observer of such
things.

Every-day events manifest to very superficial obser-
vation, that no created being, from the monster of the
ocean, “ that makes the deep boil like a pot of ointment,”
to the insect that feebly creeps on the ground, exists
free from the persecutions or annoyance of another.
Some may be subject to fewer injuries than others, but
none are wholly exempt : the strong assail by power,
and become assaulted themselves by the minute or weak.
This year (1826) the hornet (vespa crabro) abounded
with us in unusual numbers, and afforded constant evi-
dence of its power and voracity, that could not have
been exceeded by any ravenous beast. In our gardens
the imperious murmur of four or five of them at a time
might be frequently heard about our fruit trees. They
would occasionally extract the sweet liquor from the
gage, or other rich plums ; but the prime object of their
visit was to seize the wasps, that frequented the same
places. This they not only did when the creature was
feeding on the fruit, but would hawk after them when
on the wing ; capture them with a facility, to which
their heavy flight seemed unequal ; bear them to some
. neighboring plant, and there feed on the insect, which
seemed perfectly overpowered by the might of the

228

THE HORNET.

hornet. The first operation was to snip off the head,
then to cut away the lower part by the waist ; and, when
near, we could hear them shearing away the outer coat
from the body, and crushing it with their strong mandi-
bles ; sometimes devouring it, but generally only suck-
ing the juices it contained. Their avidity for this sort
of food is very manifest when the grape ripens on the
wall : being commonly the only remaining fruit, the
wasp abounds there ; the hornets flock to the prey, and
we may see them in constant progress, bearing their
victims from the bunches. The wasp itself seizes the
house-fly ; but this seems rather the display of wanton
power than for food, as it bears the fly about with it for
a length of time, and drops it unconsumed. The fly,
in its turn, is conducive after its manner to the death
of many an animal. We know not any insect that de~
stroys the hornet ; but its power and being are termi-
nated by some very effective agent, as in particular
years it is almost unknown.* Though we may not often
perceive the means by which certain races are reduced
in number, more than their multiplication effected, yet
we are frequently sensible that it is accomplished.

I do not recollect any creature less obnoxious to harm
than the common snail (helix aspersa) of our gardens.
A sad persevering depredator and mangier it is ; and
when we catch it at its banquet on our walls, it can ex-
pect no reprieve from our hands. But our captures are
partial and temporary ; and, secured in its strong shell,
it seems safe from external dangers ; yet its time comes,
and one weak bird destroys it in great numbers. In the
winter season, the common song-thrush feeds sparingly
upon the berries of the white-thorn, and the hedge

* The hornet is a very pugnacious animal. They will fight des-
perately with each other at times, when they meet in pursuit of prey,
biting each other’s body, and trying to get their mandibles under the
head of their opponents, to snip it off I one day confined under a
glass two of these creatures, which had been fighting. One had
evidently the mastery ; but both had been so injured in the contest,
that they soon died ; and it is most probable that they fall victims to
each other’s voracity, in the cold, damp season that usually terminates
the autumn of our year.

SNAILS.

229

fruits, but passes a great portion of its time at the bot-
toms of ditches, seeking for the smaller species of snails
(helix hortensis and hel. nemoralis), which it draws out
from the old stumps of the fence with unwearied per-
severance, dashing their shells to pieces on a stone ; and
we frequently see it escaping from the hedge bank
with its prize, which no little intimidation induces it to
relinquish. The larger kind at this season are beyond
its power readily to obtain ; for as the cold weather ad-
vances, they congregate in clusters behind some old
tree, or against a sheltered wall, fixing the openings of
their shells against each other, or on the substance be-
neath, and adhering so firmly in a mass, that the thrush
cannot by any means draw them wholly, 6r singly, from
their asylum. In the warmer portion of the year, they
rest separate, and adhere but slightly ; and should the
summer be a dry one, the bird makes ample amends for
the disappointment in winter, intrudes its bill under the
margin of the opening, detaches them from their hold,
and destroys them in great numbers. In the summers
of 1825 and 1826, both hot and dry ones, necessity
rendered the thrush unusually assiduous in its pursuits;
and every large stone in the lane, or under the old
hedge, was strewed with the fragments of its banquet.
This has more than once reminded me of the fable of
the “Four Bulls;” united invincible, when separated
an easy prey ; but, with the exception of this season,
and this bird, I know no casualty to which the garden
snail is exposed.

Ignorant as we are of the scope, limitation, and even
existence, of certain faculties in animals, we can fre-
quently do little more than conjecture the means where-
by they perform many of the functions of life. This
ignorance leads us naturally at times to refer these
powers to the agency of senses like our own ; but, in
most instances, probably without any foundation in
I truth. No creature seems less qualified to commit the
depredations which it does, than the garden snail. We
I grieve to see our fruit mangled and disfigured by these
creatures, but cannot readily comprehend by what
means they obtain the knowledge that its maturity is

230

SNAILS.

approaching— though we find that they must be endued
with some faculty capable of accomplishing the pur-
pose ; for no sooner does a plum, a fig, a nectarine, or
other fruit, begin to ripen on the wall, and long before
any sensible odor can be diffused from it, even before
an experienced eye can detect the approach to maturity,
than those creatures, the slug and the snail, will advance
from their asylums, though remotely situate, and pro-
ceed by very direct paths to the object. This cannot
probably be by the guidance of any known faculty.
Eyesight was once considered to be situate on the sum-
mit of their horns ; but this is now known to be erro-
neous, and we do not know that they have any vision.
The acoustic organ of worms and insects is unknown ;
and it is not by any means ascertained that these crea-
tures ever hear.* If they possess the faculty of smell-
ing, in them it must be a very exquisite sense, beyond
any delicacy we can comprehend. Thus, excluding
human means of comprehension, which appear inade-
quate, we more reasonably conclude them to be endowed
with intelligences for effecting intentions, of which we
have no perception, and which we have no capacity for
defining. The contemplative man finds pleasure in
viewing the ways and artifices of creatures to accom-
plish a purpose, though he knows not the directing
means ; and it fortifies the convictions of the believer,
by giving him fresh evidences of the universal superin-
tendence of his Maker, that even the slug and the
snail, which are arranged so low in the scale of crea-
tion, are yet, equally with all, the object of his benevo-
lence and care.

Connected with this subject of snails, a circumstance
that took place in this neighborhood is brought to my
remembrance, which discovered yet latent in a few of
us, notwithstanding our boasted enlightenment, some
leaven of the superstition of darker ages ; and that any
occurrence, not the event of every coming day, may be
made a subject of wonder by the ignorant, and a means

* That bees are attracted by the hiving-pan is generally considered
as fallacious, and the practice useless.

THE EARTH-WORM. 231

for the artful to deceive the credulous. A little banded
snail (helix virgata) is a very common species on most
of our arid, maritime pastures, and the sheep-downs of
many inland places. It happened, from some unknown
cause, that those inhabiting a dry field in an adjoining
parish were in one season, a few years ago, greatly in-
creased, so as to become an object of notice to a few,
then to more, till at length this accumulation was noised
about as a supernatural event. The field was visited
by hundreds daily from neighboring villages and distant
towns. People who could not attend purchased the
snails at a half-penny each; and there were persons
who made five shillings a day by the sale of them. As
this increase of the creature was not certainly to be ac-
counted for, some had the impudence to assert that they
had witnessed their fall from the clouds; and many
declared their belief that some great public or private
misfortune was indicated by it. The proprietor of the
field being supposed not to maintain the same senti-
ments as the commonalty upon a political circumstance,
which at that moment greatly agitated the country, it
was considered as a manifestation of heavenly dis-
pleasure, precursive of malady, misfortune, death.
However, autumn came, these snails retired to their
holes in the banks, and the worthy man lived on, — and
long may he live, esteemed and respected by all, un-
scathed by snails or misfortunes.

Little obnoxious to injury as this garden snail appears
to be, there is another creature, and that a very impor-
tant one in the operations of nature, that is surrounded
by dangers, harassed, pursued unceasingly, and becomes
the prey of all : the common earth-worm (lumbricus ter-
restris). This animal, destined to be the natural manu-
rer of the soil, and the ready indicator of an improved
staple, consumes on the surface of the ground, where
they soon would be injurious, the softer parts of decayed
vegetable matters, and conveys into the soil the more
woody fibres, where they moulder, and become reduced
to a simple nutriment, fitting for living vegetation. The
parts consumed by them are soon returned to the sur-

232

THE EARTH-WORM.

face, whence, dissolved by frosts, and scattered by rains,
they circulate again in the plants of the soil,

“ Death still producing life.”

Thus eminently serviceable as the worm is, it yet
becomes the prey of various orders of the animal crea-
tion, and perhaps is a solitary example of an individual
race being subjected to universal destruction. The
very emmet seizes it when disabled, and bears it away
as its prize : it constitutes throughout the year the food
of many birds ; fishes devour it greedily ; the hedge-
hog eats it ; the mole pursues it unceasingly in the pas-
tures, along the moist bottoms of ditches, and burrows
after it through the banks of hedges, to which it retires
in dry seasons : secured as the worm appears to be by
its residence in the earth from the capture of creatures
inhabiting a different element, yet many aquatic ani-
mals seem well acquainted with it, and prey on it as a
natural food, whenever it falls in their way ; frogs eat
it; and even the great water-beetle (ditiscus marginalis)
I have known to seize it when the bait of the angler,
and it has been drawn up by the hook. Yet notwith-
standing this prodigious destruction of the animal, its
increase is fully commensurate to its consumption, as
if ordained the appointed food of all; and Reaumur
computes, though from what data it is difficult to con-
jecture, that the number of worms lodged in the bosom
of the earth exceeds that of the grains of alb kinds of
corn collected by man.

Worms, generally speaking, are tender creatures, and
water remaining over their haunts for a few days drowns
them; they easily become frozen, when a mortification
commences at some part, which gradually consumes the
whole substance, and we find them on the surface a mu-
cilaginous mass: and their retiring deeper in the soil
is no bad indication of approaching cold wTeather ; but
no sooner is the frost out of the earth, than they ap-
proach the surface to feed on decayed vegetable matter.
Greatly beneficial as these creatures are, by drawing
leaves and decayed matters into the earth, where their
dissolution is accomplished, yet they are sad tormentors

THE EARTH WORM,

233

to us gardeners, and occasion the loss of more young
plants than even the slug, by drawing in the leaf, which
throws out the root; so that in the morning we find
our nursling inverted. It is the same propensity, or or-
dination, for removing decayed matters, that influences
them in these actions ; as they are the faded leaves that
are seized by them, such as newly removed plants pre-
sent before the root draws nutriment from the earth.
Even stones of some magnitude are at times drawn over
their holes. The horticulturist perhaps encounters
more mortification and disappointment than any other
laborer upon the earth from insects, elementary severity,
the slug, and the worm ; yet, if the depredations of
this last creature do at times excite a little of our iras-
cibility, we must still remember the nightly labors, and
extensive services, that are performed for the agri-
culturist by this scavenger of the earth, and manurer
of the soil.

Besides, worms are essentially useful in draining our
lands from superfluous moisture, which in many cases,
without their agency, would be detained upon or near
the surface of the earth, chilling and deteriorating our
pastures. A few inches of soil, resting upon a substra-
tum of clay, would commonly, without some natural or
artificial drainage, be soaked with water after heavy
rains, and thus become a bog, or produce coarse water
herbage rather than good grasses ; but these worms
greatly facilitate the passage of the water by draining
horizontally along the bed of clay, and aid the emission
of the water by this means, as I have often observed in
the trenches, which we cut in our retentive soils, nu-
merous worm-casts on their sides a few days after they
had been made, being the exits of the horizontal runs,
and through these the water drains into the trenches,
and runs off*. I do not assert the water would not in
any case be discharged without the agency of worms ;
but that the passages which they make expedite it,
which, in situations where the operation would be sub-
jected to delay from the position of the ground, or the
under stratum, is of infinite advantage. Thus the soil
is not only rendered firm, allowing the admission of

234

INATTENTION TO PROVIDENCE.

cattle, but the good herbage, which the long residence
of water would vitiate or destroy, is saved from injury,
and the aquatic and useless plants starved or checked
in their growth ; but after great gluts of rain, when the
supply of water is greater than can be speedily carried
off, it becomes stagnant, and those worms, which cannot
burrow beyond its influence, soon perish, and we lose
the benefit of these very beneficial creatures. Drainage
is therefore one of the most important operations in our
agricultural concerns. As by irrigation we turn a
quantity of nutritive water over our lands, or by reason
of its higher temperature foster the growth of grasses ;
so, by draining cold and superfluous moisture off, we
promote the growth of valuable vegetation. I would
advocate the cause of all creatures, had I the privilege
of knowing the excellency of them; not willingly as-
signing vague and fanciful claims to excite wonder, or
manifest a base pride by any vaunt of superior obser-
vation ; but when we see, blind as we are, that all things
are formed in justice, mercy, truth, I would tell my tale
as a man, gloryingas a Christian, and bless the gracious
power that permitted me to obtain this knowledge.

Residing, as I constantly do, in the country, and
having been long observant of rural things, and the
operations of Infinite Wisdom, through the very feeble
organs with which I have been endowed, I have often
thought, that we, who are daily made sensible of so
many manifestations of creative power and mercy,
should be more seriously disposed, more grateful for the
beneficences of Providence, than those who live in so-
cieties removed from these evidences ; but yet I neither
know nor believe that we in any respect give greater
proof of this disposition, or are more sensible of the
benevolence of an overruling power, than others. The
manufacturer by the combination of artful contrivances
effects his purposes, and by aid of man’s wisdom brings
his work to perfection ; the artisan may eat his bread
with all thankfulness and humility of heart, solace his
labors and mitigate his fatigue by the grateful flavor
and juices of fruits purchased at the stall ; but he sees
nothing of the machinery, the gradual elaborations of

INATTENTION TO PROVIDENCE.

235

nature, nor can he be conversant with the multiplicity
of influences and events, which are requisite to bring
them to his hand. He who lives in the country knows
that an omnipotent impulse must be constantly in ac-
tion ; he may till his land, and scatter his corn, but the
early and latter rain must soften his furrows ; the snow,
as wool, must cover the soil ; the hoar-frost, like ashes,
lighten his glebe ; the sunshine animate the sprouting
shoot ; and winds evaporate noxious moisture ; insects
and blights, that hover around, or circulate through the
air, must be guided away, or our labors become abortive,
or are consumed : we see the bud, the blossom, leaf,
and germ, all progressively advance, to afford plenty or
yield us enjoyment ; we see these things accomplished
by the influencing interpositions of a beneficent Provi-
dence, and in no way effected by the machinery or ar-
tifices of our own hands ; and it should operate more
powerfully, in disposing those who witness them to par-
ticular resignation and gratitude, than others who cannot
behold them, but view the ingenuity of man as the
agent and means of his prosperity ; yet how it happens
that this principle is not in more active operation within
us, I cannot perceive.

Every age has been the dupe of empiricism ; and the
greater its darkness, the more impudent appear to have
been the pretensions of knavery. We may even now,
perhaps, swallow a few matters, the arcana of the needy
or the daring, in the various compositions of powders,
draughts and pills, which are not quite agreeable to our
palates or our stomachs ; but our forefathers had more
to encounter, as they had more faith to support them,
when they were subjected, for the cure of their mala-
dies, to such medicines as album gr cecum, or the white
bony excrement of dogs, bleached on the bank, for
their heart-burns and acidities ; the powder produced
from burnt mice, as a dentifrice ; millepedes, or wood-
lice, for nephritic and other complaints ; and the ashes
of earth-worms, administered in nervous and epileptic
cases.

Our apple-trees here are greatly injured, and some
annually destroyed by the agency of what seems to be

BLIGHT.

236

a very feeble insect. We call it, from habit, or from
some unassigned cause, the “American blight” (aphis
lanata); this noxious creature being known in some
orchards by the more significant name of “white blight.”
In the spring of the year a slight hoariness is observed
upon the branches of certain species of our orchard
fruit. As the season advances this hoariness increases,
it becomes cottony, and toward the middle or the end
of summer the under sides of some of the branches
are invested with a thick, downy substance, so long as
at times to be sensibly agitated by the air. Upon ex-
amining this substance we find, that it conceals a multi-
tude of small wingless creatures, which are busily em-
ployed in preying upon the limb of the tree beneath.
This they are well enabled to do, by means of a beak
terminating in a fine bristle : this, being insinuated
through the bark, and the sappy part of the wood,
enables the creature to extract, as with a syringe, the
sweet, vital liquor that circulates in the plant. This
terminating bristle is not observed in every individual :
in those that possess it, it is of different lengths, and is
usually, when not in use, so closely concealed under
the breast of the animal, as to be invisible. I ft the
younger insects it is often manifested by protruding
like a fine termination to the anus; but as their bodies
become lengthened the bristle is not in this way observ-
able. The alburnum, or sap wood, being thus wounded,
rises up in excrescences and nodes all over the branch,
and deforms it; the limb, deprived of its nutriment,
grows sickly ; the leaves turn yellow, and the part
perishes. Branch after branch is thus assailed until they
all become leafless, and the tree dies.

Aphides in general attack the young and softer parts
of plants ; but this insect seems easily to wound the
harder bark of the apple, and by no means makes choice
of the most tender part of the branch. They give a
preference to certain sorts, but not always the most rich
fruits ; as cider apples, and wildings, are greatly infest-
ed by them, and from some unknown cause other varie-
ties seem to be exempted from their depredations. The
Wheeler’s russet, and Crofton pippin, I have never ob-

BLIGHT.

237

served to be injured by them. This insect is viviparous,
or produces its young alive, forming a cradle for them
by discharging from the extremities of its body a quan-
tity of long cottony matter, which, becoming inter-
woven and entangled, prevents the young from falling
to the earth, and completely envelops the parent and
offspring. In this cottony substance we observe, as soon
as the creature becomes animated in the spring, and
as long as it remains in vigor, many round pellucid
bodies, which, at the first sight, look like eggs, only
that they are larger than we might suppose to be ejected
by the animal. They consist of a sweet glutinous fluid,
and are probably the discharges of the aphis, and the
first food of its young. That it is thus consumed, I con-
jecture from its diminution, and its by no means in-
creasing so fast as faecal matter would do from such
perpetually feeding creatures. I have not, in any in-
stance, observed the young to proceed from these glob-
ular bodies, though they are found at various ages at all
times during the season. This languinous vestiture
seems to serve likewise as a vehicle for dispersing the
animal ; for though most of our species of aphis are
furnished with wings, I have never seen any individual
of this American blight so provided, but the winds
wafting about small tufts of this downy matter, convey
the creature with it from tree to tree throughout the
whole orchard. In the autumn, when this substance is
generally long, the winds and rains of the season effec-
tually disperse these insects, and we observe them en-
deavoring to secrete themselves in the crannies of any
neighboring substance. Should the savoy cabbage be
near the trees whence they have been dislodged, the
cavities of the under sides of its leaves are commonly
favorite asylums for them. Multitudes perish by these
rough removals, but numbers yet remain ; and we may
find them in the nodes and crevices, on the under sides
of the branches, at any period of the year, the long,
cottony vesture being removed, but still they are en-
veloped in a fine, short, downy clothing, to be seen by
a magnifier, proceeding apparently from every suture,
or pore of their bodies, and protecting them in their

BLIGHT.

238

dormant state from the moisture and frosts of our climate.
This aphis, in a natural state, usually awakens and
commences its labors very early in the month of March ;
and the hoariness on its body may be observed increas-
ing daily : but if an infected branch be cut in the
winter, and kept in water in a warm room, these aphides
will awaken speedily, spin their cottony vests, and
feed, and discharge, as accustomed to do«in a genial
season.

It is often very difficult to ascertain the first appear-
ance of many creatures not natives of our climate,
though, from the progress of science, and more general
observation, many things will be recorded. The first
visit of the death’s-head moth is very obscure ; an ex-
traordinary snail (testacellus halotideus)* is now spread-
ing by transplantation in many places, and may here-
after occasion inquiry. The first visit of this aphis to
us is by no means clear. The epithet of American
blight may be correctly applied ; but we have no suffi-
cient authority to conclude, that we derived this pest
from that country. Normandy and the Netherlands, too,
have each been supposed to have conferred this evil
upon us ; but extensively as this insect is spread around,
and favorable as our climate appears to be to its increase,
it bids fair to destroy in progression most of our oldest
and long-esteemed fruit from our orchards. The same
unknown decree, which regulates the increase and de-
crease of all created beings, influences this insect ; yet
wet seasons, upon the whole, seem ungenial to its consti-
tution. In the hot dry summer of 1825, it was abundant
everywhere; in the spring of 1826, which was unusu-
ally fine and dry, it abounded in such incredible luxu-

* This creature was first observed, I am told, about the year 1819,
in the nursery garden of Messrs. Miller and Sweet near Bristol, in-
troduced, as is supposed, on some imported plant. It increases readily
in our climate. The white moss rose (rosa muscosa, var. alba) : this
beautiful variery was first produced about the year 1808, in the
garden of Gabriel G ldney, Esq., at Clifton, near Bristol ; a branch
of the common red moss rose, becoming diseased, produced its
flowers white. A neighboring nurseryman, being employed by that
gentleman’s gardener to lay down the branch, from cuttings propagated
the variety, and shortly after dispersed many plants.

REMEDY FOR BLIGHT.

239

riance, that many trees seemed at a short distance as if
they had been, whitewashed ; in the ensuing summer,
which was a very dry and hot one, this cottony matter
so entirely disappeared, that to superficial observation
the malady was not in existence ; and it did not become
manifest again until September, when, after the rains
of that season, it reissued in fine, cottony patches from
the old nodgs on the trees. Many remedies have been
proposed for removing this evil, efficacious perhaps in
some cases upon a small scale ; but when the injury
has existed for some time, and extended its influence
over the parts of a large tree, I apprehend it will take
its course, and the tree die. Upon young plants, and in
places where a brush can be applied, any substance that
can be used in a liquid state, to harden into a coat, in-
soluble by rain, will assuredly confine the ravages of
the creature, and smother it. Hard rubbing with a dry
brush crushes many, but there are crevices into which
the bristle cannot enter : thus some escape, and the
propagation continues. I have very successfully remov-
ed this blight from young trees, and from recently
attacked places in those more advanced, by an easy ap-
plication. Melt about three ounces of resin in an earthen
pipkin, take it from the fire, and pour into it three
ounces of fish oil ; the ingredients perfectly unite, and,
when cold, acquire the consistence of honey. A slight
degree of heat will liquefy it, and in this state paint
over every node or infected part in your tree, using a
common painter’s brush. This I prefer doing in spring,
or as soon as the hoariness appears. The substance soon
sufficiently hardens, and forms a varnish, which prevents
any escape, and stifles the individuals. After this first
dressing, should any cottony matter appear round the
margin of the varnish, a second application to these
parts will, I think, be found to effect a perfect cure.

The prevalence of this insect gives some of our orch-
ards here the appearance of numerous white posts in
an extensive drying ground, being washed with lime
from root to branch — a practice I apprehend attended
with little benefit; a few creatures may be destroyed
by accident, but as the animal does not retire to the

EFFECT OF SEASONS

240

earth, but winters in the clefts of the boughs far beyond
the influence of this wash, it remains uninjured, to com-
mence its ravages again when spring returns.

Seasons arrive and pass aw7ay, the general features
alone remaining impressed upon our minds ; but they
often produce consequences not commonly expected,
and a departed summer or winter has frequently been
the cause of some event, which we consider as exclu-
sively occasioned by atmospheric changes, or present
temperature. A warm dry summer generally occasions
a healthy spring blossom.the ensuing year, the bearing
wood being vipened and matured to produce in its most
perfect state. A wet, damp one usually effects the re-
verse, by occasioning an abundant flow of sap, pro-
ducing wood and foliage rather than blossom ; and the
following spring, in such cases, from the floral vigor
being diverted, has generally its blossom weak, and,
though perhaps not defective, incompetent to mature
the germen. This is mere reasoning upon general
consequences ; but so imperfect are our theories, and so
many circumstances counteract the calculations, the
predictions of human wisdom, which can rarely even
“ discern the face of the sky,” that results must more
often be looked for than known. The recording of
events is the province of the naturalist ; and perhaps
occasionally by comparing existing circumstances with
past events, something approximating to probability
may be obtained. The two burning summers of 1825
and 1826 are remembered by all; but it was in the
succeeding year only, that the result of this heat and
drought was manifested to us, by effects upon our pas-
ture lands, which we did not expect. Not only in those
on the limestone substratum, but in many that were
sandy, and in the clayey which were chapped by the
heat, the roots of the grasses, which we have generally
considered as not being subject to such injuries, were
destroyed in some cases, and greatly injured in others ;
and in their places frequently sprang up crowfeet
(ranunculus acris, and bulbosus), and dandelions, a
mere useless vegetation, which, as long as the grasses
flourished, were kept in subordination and obscurity by

ON VEGETATION.

241

their superior growth ; while bare patches in other
places told us of aridity and failure : the meadow grass
(poa) and ray grass (lolium perenne) were great suffer-
ers ; the dog’s tail (cynosurus) supported itself better ;
the cock-foot (dactylis), though not killed, was so much
hurt, that its ensuing vegetation, instead of the coarse
luxuriance it generally manifests, was dry, hard, and
deficient in succulency, or, as our laborers emphatically
say, was “ stunned ; ” and bent-grass (agrostis vulgaris),
that certain indicator of a dry soil, appeared more than
it commonly does. But this destruction of the roots in
very many places was not obvious, the turf, as it was,
remaining yet some injury was apparent in the suc-
ceeding summer and autumn. The crop cut for hay
was unusually abundant, and seemed to have exhausted
the roots by its growth, as no after-grass sprang up; nor
did the pastures which were fed afford more than a dry,
hard, yellow provender, looking tanned, as if seared by
severe frost; and in September, when in general we
expect our fields to yield an abundance of grass, as food
for months, they presented commonly the aspect of
hard-fed lands in March, though so much rain had
fallen, both in July and August, as to lead us to expect
profusion. It did not appear that the roots had actually
perished ; which could not have been the case, by pro-
ducing the mowing crops that they did ; but this was a
single effort : the injury was manifested by the defi-
ciency of the autumnal vigor ; this was the actual re-
sult, difficult as it is to assign a satisfactory reason.
Perhaps these effects upon our pasture lands were un-
precedented : but these things pass away, unless re-
corded ; and though we may resort to the oldest memory
for evidence, yet memory is oblivious, often exaggerative,
and cannot safely be trusted.

June and July, 1825. — The quantity of that sweet
clammy fluid, which we find upon certain leaves, and
commonly call “ honey-dew,” was more than usually
abundant during these months. In the day-time, bees,
wasps, and tribes of flies collected to feed upon it, and
in the evenings, moths and insects of the night fre-
quented the fruit-trees on our walls, particularly the

V

242

EFFECT OF SEASONS

cherry and the plum, for the same purpose, and their
presence brought the bat, so that some places were ani-
mated by the flitting about of these creatures. Aphides
abounded upon all the young sprays.

June 17, 1828. — Abundance of rain has fallen during
the preceding night, and in the morning of this day,
about two o’clock, the sun broke out, the air becoming
hot and heavy. I was soon surprised by observing mul-
titudes of hive-bees buzzing and crawling about the
foliage and young shoots of my laurel bushes (prunus
laurocerasus), and feeding upon some sweet matter
lodged on them ; the blossoms had long before fallen
off : no aphides frequent this plant, nor were there any
trees near them from whence any sweet matter might
have fallen ; we have no honey-dew upon our fruit-trees,
and an aphis is scarcely to be found. Has any saccha-
rine matter fallen, or been emitted by the plant to en-
tice these insects to harbor about them ? It clearly ap-
pears that honey-dews arise from two causes ; that a
large portion of it is the discharges from insects of the
genus aphis, has long since been manifested by the
Abbe Sauvages, Mr. Curtis, and others : insects dis-
charge in all days and hours during the warm months
of the year. But there is another kind which we find
only at particular times, and in certain states of the at-
mosphere, lodged on certain plants during the night in
such quantities as to hang occasionally in drops from
the points of the leaves. The foliage of the oak is at
times lucid with this sweet liquor, and this the bees
are soon acquainted with, and eagerly collect it, which
they only partially do when spread upon the leaves on
the wall, the evident discharge of aphides. Some of
my neighbors who have hives will occasionally observe,
“ A heavy honey-dew last night, and the bees are hard
at work ; ” this cannot proceed from insect discharges.
That some foliage may condense any matter that may
fall upon it, is not improbable ; or even excrete it from
their pores by the impellent power of the air in certain
states, is to be conceived ; but all this is conjectural,
and our knowledge of the causes which produce these
partial honey-dews is yet to be acquired.

ON VEGETATION.

243

In the years 1825 and 1826, the foliage of our
hedges in the spring months was unusually mangled by
the caterpillars of different moths; but in 1827 these
creatures had increased so much, that the entire leaves
of the sloe, and the white thorn, were consumed by
them; the hedges, when consisting of these shrubs
alone, presented for miles the appearance of winter
sprays, covered with a cottony web. The other hedge
plants were little injured. The larvae of several species
of small creatures were concerned in this annihilation
of verdure ; but the little ermine moths (phalsena evony-
rnella, and ph. padella) were the chief performers in
this denuding process. In July the perfected moths
swarmed about the scene of their birth in vast numbers ;
yet such was the retrieving power of nature, that by
the middle of August only a small portion of the injury
occasioned by these creatures was to be observed, the
summer shoot bursting out, and covering the sprays
with the verdure of spring. The chief singularity in
all this was the appearance of the sloe bush, all the.
foliage being consumed by insects, or crisped away by
severe winds, leaving the sprays profusely covered with
the small young fruit, perfectly uninjured, and proceed-
ing in its growth ; so that, by the time the foliage was
renewed in August, it had obtained its usual size. This
was the case too with the crab, and some of the orch-
ard fruits, presenting the unusual sight of fruit grow-
ing alone on the boughs without leaves ; so that in fact
the offices of inspiration, transpiration, and all their
consequences, usually accomplished by the leaves of
plants, must have been suspended, or performed b
other organs, as no deficiency of vegetative powers was
apparent.

But insects alone were not the cause of all the denu-
dation and unsightly appearance which our orchards and
other trees so remarkably presented this year ; for the
destruction of the foliage was accomplished in part by
some malignant influences, not well understood. Like
the Egyptian king, we are accustomed to attribute all
our evils of this nature to the “ blasting of the east
wind ; ” yet we find all aspects and places obnoxious to

244

LEASING.

it ; one situation may be exempted for a period of many
years from such visitations, when others suffer; on a
sudden, a partial or a local stream of hot, cold, salt, or
what we denominate a pestilential wind, sweeps along,
and it is destroyed.

Surrounded by and situate in the midst of an agri-
cultural district, we are eager and persevering “leasers”
here ; and it becomes in a certain degree profitable
to our poor, though they cannot hope, like the dutiful
Ruth, to gather their three pecks and over in-a day. It
may be difficult to comprehend how the picking up a
head of corn here, and another there, should be a remu-
nerative employ ; but in this case, like all other slow
operations, a distant result, rather than an instant effect,
must be looked for. I have found some little difficulty
in obtaining intelligence sufficient to acquire a know-
ledge of the gain by this employ. The poor are often
jealous and suspicious of the motives, when any at-
tempts are made to procure information regarding their
profits or improvements ; and indeed the advantages of
one year are uncertain in another. Catching, doubtful
seasons, when the farmer collects in haste, and is un-
mindful of trifles, afford the best harvest to the gleaner.
In fine, settled weather, the operation of reaping is
conducted with more deliberation, and less corn is
scattered about. When a woman with two or three
active children lease in concert, it becomes a beneficial
employ. I have heard of a family in the parish thus
engaged, who have in one season obtained eight bushels
of clear wheat ; but this was excess. I know a single
Woman also, who has gleaned in the same period four
bushels and a half; but this again was under very favor-
able and partial circumstances. In genera], a good leaser
is satisfied, if she can obtain, single-handed, a clear
three bushels in the season, which gives her about a
bushel in the week ; and, if taken at seven shillings,
is very reasonable, and far from being any great acces-
sion or profit— less perhaps than is generally supposed
to be the emolument of the gleaner ; and this may have
been acquired by the active labor of eight or nine
hours. Yet such is the ardor for this occupation, the

LEASING. 245

enjoyment of this full association, with their neighbors,
the prattle, the gossip, the glee, the excitement it oc-
casions, that I am sure the allowance of fourteen pence
a day, certain and constant, would hardly be accepted
by my leasing neighbors in place of it. Indeed I would
not offer it, believing that this gleaning season is look-
ed forward to with anxiety and satisfaction ; and is a
season, too, in which the children of the family can con-
tribute to its support without pain or undue exertion ;
and viewing with much approbation and pleasure this
long-established custom as a relaxation from domestic
refinement, when every cottage is locked up and aban-
doned by its inmates, to pursue this innocent, healthful,
laudable employ, where every grain that is collected is
saved from waste, and converted to the benefit of a
needy and laborious community. From the result of the
pauper leasing, no bad criterion may be obtained of the
general product of the season ; for, as the collection is
made from many stations, and variety of culture, these
samples of all afford a reasonable average of the quality.
It has been thought, but I trust and believe only in the
apprehension of evil, that leasing is injurious to the
morals of the poor, affording them an opportunity and
initiating them in petty pilfering ; but if the disposition
existed, it could be practicable but in very few instances ;
mutual jealousy would prevent individual success, and
immediate detection would follow the filching of num-
bers. The commencement of many ceremonies and
solemnities is lost by perversion, or in the obscurity of
years ; the stream of habit may trickle on from age to
age, till it flows in time a steady current, yet the original
source remain unknown : but this custom of gleaning
the remnant of the field we know existed from the
earliest periods, three thousand years and upwards for
certain ; for, if it were not then first instituted, it was
secured and regulated by an especial ordinance of
the Almighty to the Israelites in the wilderness, as a
privilege to be fully enjoyed by the poor of the land,
whenever their triumphant armies should enter into
possession of Canaan. By this law, the leasing of three
products was granted to the destitute inhabitants of the

V 2

OLD HOLIDAY AMUSEMENTS.

246

soil,— the olive, the grape-vine, and corn ; the olive-
tree was to be beaten but once ; the scattered grape in
the vintage was not to be gathered ; and in the field
where the corn grew, “ clean riddance ” was not to be
made, the corners were to be left unreaped, and even
the forgotten sheaf was not to be fetched away by the
owner, but to be left for the “ poor and the stranger,
the fatherless and the widow,” This was not simply de-
clared once, as an act of mercy, but enjoined and con-
firmed by ordinances thrice repeated, and impressed
with particular solemnity ; “ I am the Lord thy God,”
I have given thee all, and I command unreserved obe-
dience to this my appointment.

Revolving in our minds, as we old-mannered people
often do, the forms, rites, and usages of earlier days,
we occasionally regret that fashions by gradual neglect
have passed away, and can never be revived, to give
that feeling of pleasure which a natural growth seemed
to have inspired. Some, though probably of pagan
origin, were innocent and harmless practices ; the may-
pole, with all its flowery wreaths, so often surrounded
by the dance and the song, is now but seldom seen,
where we have known it, especially in the lace-making
counties, the evening and almost sole recreation, after
long hours of unhealthy occupation, for happy groups of

“Those pale maids who weave their threads with bone

and it gave these poor villagers a transient glow of
health, seen then alone ; but it is gone with the rest,
and we grieve to think how little remains that poverty
and innocence can partake of. Others were of monkish
introduction, yet seemed to keep in remembrance the
revolutions of seasons and events, which, though re-
corded elsewhere, had become the types of written
things. Yet one of them in the irration of the moment
I have at times wished, selfishly enough perhaps, con-
signed to oblivion with monks and monkish deeds.
“ Christmassing,” as we call it, the decorating our
churches, houses, and market meats with evergreens,
is yet retained among us; and we growers of such
things annually contribute more than we wish for the

OLD HOLIDAY AMUSEMENTS.

247

demand of the towns. Sprays and sprigs may be con-
nived at, but this year I lost most of my beautiful young
holly-trees, the cherished nurslings of my hedge-rows.
The holly, though indigenous with us, is a very slow
growing tree, and certainly the most ornamental of our
native foresters. Its fine foliage shining in vigor and
health, mingling with its brilliant coral beads, gives us
the cheering aspect of a summer’s verdure when all
besides is desolation and decay. It is not only grateful
to the eye, but gives us pleasure, when we contemplate
the food it will afford our poor hedgefaring birds, when
all but its berries and those of the ivy are consumed ;
and we are careful to preserve these gay youths of
promise, when we trim our fences : but no sooner do
they become young trees, in splendid beauty, than the
merciless hatchet, in some December’s night, lops off
their heads, leaving a naked unsightly stake to point
out our loss ; and we grieve and are vexed, for they
never acquire again comparative beauty. These young
heads, that we have been robbed of, are in especial
request to form a bush, dependent from the centre of
the kitchen or the servants’ hall, which in this season
of license and festivity becomes a station for extra
liberty, as every female passing under it, becomes sub-
ject to the salutation of her male companion. This centre
bush is often the object of particular decoration, being
surrounded by the translucent berries of the mistletoe,
and those of the ivy, dipped in blue and white starch.
But at this season I have noticed one remarkable deco-
ration among the natives of the principality. A large
white 'turnip is stuck as full as possible of black oats,
so as to hide almost the substance in which they are
set, and sometimes having compartments of white oats ;
and being placed upon a candlestick, or some other ele-
vation, on the mantle-tree, presents an extraordinary
hedgehog-like appearance. The first adoption of this
purely rural fancy, and its designation, I am perfectly
unacquainted with ; but, when it is well executed, it
requires attentive examination to detect the device.

We are no votarists of fortune here, nor do we trou-
ble ourselves concerning predestinate ordinations, or

ANECDOTE.

248

like subtilties ; but when we notice passing events, we
lament the ills and are pleased with the good luck of a
neighbor : and a little turn happened lately to a parish-
ioner, which in former times, when events were viewed
under aspects different from those by which we now re-
gard them, might have occasioned more wonderment
and comment than it did. An industrious laboring
man had been some time unemployed, and having sought
an engagement at all those places most likely to have
afforded it, but without success, sat himself down upon
a bank in one of our potato-fields, carelessly twisting a
straw, and ruminating what his next resource might be;
when casting his eyes to the ground, he discovered, im-
mediately between his feet, a guinea ! a guinea perfect
in all its requisites! The finding of such a coin, at
such a time, was no common occurrence ; but by what
casualty did the money come there? The frequenters
of our fields, breakers of stone, and delvers of the soil,
inhabiters of the tenement and the cot, have no super-
fluous gold to drop unheeded in their progress, and one
should have supposed that the various operations which
the field had undergone in the potato culture, would
have brought to view any coin of that size and lustre.
Upon looking at the land, however, much of our per-
plexity was removed by observing that the ground had
been in part manured by scrapings from our turnpike
road, rendering it highly probable that this golden
stranger had been dropped by some traveller, not missed
by him, or lost in the mire, this mortar from the road
possibly so coating it about, as to secrete it for a time,
some heavy rain dissolving the clod, and bringing it to
view. This, I am sensible, is an incident little deserv-
ing of narration, but has been done from two motives :
we village historians meet with but few important
events to detail from the annals of our district ; we have
no gazettes, few public records or official documents to
embellish our pages, and if we will write, must be con-
tent with such small matters as present themselves ; and
to point out how frequently very mysterious circum-
stances may be elucidated, and appear as consistent
events by an unbiassed examination. We may not be

ATMOSPHERIC EFFECTS ON VEGETATION. 249

able always satisfactorily to see why a tide of good for-
tune should flow at the desire of one, and ebb from the
wishes of another ; yet many of the occurrences of
human life are perhaps not so extraordinary as they are
made to appear by the suppression of facts, or our igno-
rance of circumstances.

The effects of atmospheric changes upon vegetation
have been noticed in the rudest ages : even the simplest
people have remarked their influence on the appetites
of their cattle, so that to “ eat like a rabbit before rain ”
has become proverbial, from the common observance of
the fact : but the influence of the electric fluid upon
the common herbage has not been, perhaps, so gene-
rally perceived. My men complain to-day that they
cannot mow, that they “ cannot any how make a hand
of it,” as the grass hangs about the blade of the scythe,
and is become tough and woolly ; heavy rains are falling
to the southward, and thunder rolls around us; this in-
dicates the electric state of the air, and points out the
influence that atmospheric temperature and condition
have upon organized and unorganized bodies, though
from their nature not always manifested, all terrestrial
substances being replete with electric matter. In the
case here mentioned, it appears probable that the state
of the air induced a temporary degree of moisture to
arise from the earth, or to be given out by the air, and
that this moisture conducted the electric fluid to the
vegetation of the field. Experiments prove that elec-
tric matter discharged into a vegetable withers and de-
stroys it ; and it appeared to me at the time, but I am
no electrician, that an inferior or natural portion of this
fluid, such as was then circulating around, had influ-
enced my grass in a lower degree, so as not to wither,
but to cause it to flag, and become tough, or, as they
call it in some counties, to “wilt;” the farina of the
grass appeared damper than is usual, by its hanging
about the blades of the scythes more than it commonly
does; the stone removed it, as the men whetted them,
just at the edge, but they were soon clogged again. As
the thunder cleared away, the impediments became less
obvious, and by degrees the difficulties ceased. The

HUMMINGS IN THE AIR.

250

observance of local facts, though unimportant in them-
selves, may at times elucidate perplexities, or strengthen
conclusions.

That purely rural, little noticed, and indeed local
occurrence, called by the country people “ hummings
in the air,” is annually to be heard in one or two fields
near my dwelling. About the middle of the day, per-
haps from twelve o’clock till two, on a few calm, sultry
days, in July, we occasionally hear, when in particular
places, the humming of apparently a large swarm of
bees. It is generally in some spacious, open spot, that
this murmuring first arrests our attention. As we move
onward the sound becomes fainter, and by degrees is no
longer audible. That this sound proceeds from a col-
lection of bees, or some such insects, high in the air,
there can be no doubt ; yet the musicians are invisible.
At these times a solitary insect or so may be observed
here and there, occupied in its usual employ, but this
creature takes no part in our aerial orchestra. We in-
vestigators, who endeavor to find a reason and a cause
for all things, are a little puzzled sometimes in our pur-
suits, like other people; and, perhaps, would have but
little success in attempting an elucidation of this occur-
rence, which, with those circles in our pastures and on
our lawns, that produce such crops of fungi (agaricus
oreades), and are called by the common name, for want
of a better or more significant one, of “ fairy rings,”
we will leave as we find them, an odium physiolo -
gicum.

1827.- — The winds of this autumn have been violent
and distressing, but of all variable things, we know of
none more so than our seasons and temperatures, pro-
duced probably by causes and combinations of which
we have no comprehension, or power of foreseeing,
“ for these things come not by observation ; we cannot
say, Lo here ! or Lo there ! ” What can be more extra-
ordinary, or inexplicable by table or computation, than
the sudden visitation, in the midst of storms and frosts,
of such a day of brightness and warmth as we some-
times witness, cheering the aspect of all things,— a
portrait of summer, brought from we know not what

VARIABLE WEATHER.

251

region, in a frame-work of winter. All these things
assuredly have their effects upon the products of the
earth, and by their means upon the creatures that are
nourished by them, carrying on that imperceptible line
of influences and intelligences that is maintained
throughout nature. We know that vegetation and the
atmosphere are in a constant state of barter and ex-
change, receiving and modifying; and possibly, from
the unseen effects of a frosty morning, a fall of snow,
or a few hours’ temperature of the air, a fruitful or an
unproductive season may arise. We notice the effects
of spring changes, because vegetation has so far ad-
vanced as to render influences manifest ; but we cannot
perceive the injuries of benefits accruing to a hidden
circulation from particular events. Every person who
has been conversant with cattle, must have remarked
how uncertain their progress in improvement has been ;
that the abundant provision of one year did not prove
equally nutritive with the scanty product of some other :
this fact originates probably from the effects of atmo-
spheric impulse, either directly upon vegetation, or upon
the soil which produced the food collaterally, or upon
both collectively. In a wet season, water appears to
nourish plants,7 or to supply their requirements princi-
pally : in a dry one, nutriment must be obtained from
the soil by means of the fibre of the root, and hence
particles are imbibed chemically different ; a dry or a
drained soil, producing short and scanty herbage, will
frequently improve the condition of cattle more than
an adjoining meadow having a profusion of food, though
probably no chemical analysis could indicate the differ-
ence. These periodical winds again, violent and dis-
tressing as they often prove, are yet unquestionably es-
sential in the economy of nature : our two seasons, in
which these commotions of the air most usually become
manifest, are about the equinoxes of autumn and spring,
periods which in many respects have a similarity with
each other. In the autumn of our year, the foliage of
trees and plants, &c., putrefy and decay ; marshes and
dull waters, clogged by their own products, stagnate,
and discharge large portions of hydrogen, carbonic gas,

WHIRLY PITS.

252

&c., injurious and even fatal to animal existence : in
summer all these baneful exhalations are neutralized
and rendered wholesome by the vast quantities of oxy-
gen, or vital air, discharged from vegetable foliage : but
these agents of benefit, by the autumn, are no more —
consequently the discharge of oxygen is suspended, but
the production of unhealthy air increased by the addi-
tional decomposition of the season. To counteract this,
is probably the business of the storms of wind and rain
prevailing at this season, which, by agitating and dissi-
pating the noxious airs, introduce fresh currents, and
render the fluid we breathe salubrious. The same may
be advanced in regard to spring : the whole decay of
winter, having no neutralizing body to render it whole-
some, requires some great influencing power to remove
it. But all this is reasoning without actual evidence ;
a discursive license, from the fallibility of human judg-
ment not often to be indulged in: yet we can so rarely
perceive the purport of the movements of nature, that
our conceptions, vague as they may be, are almost all
that remain to us.

We have here so few operations of nature deserving
mention, that I must not omit to notice a rather uncom-
mon appearance in some of our clay-lands, which the
surrounding parishes do not present. The soil of a few
fields seems to cover for some depth a rock of coarse
limestone, which we never bum for use. In a direction
bearing nearly east and west, in a line pointing to the
Severn, a number of sinkings and pits are observable,
like abandoned shafts, or the commencement of mines.
They are called by the country people “ whirly pits.”
In some instances the bottoms of them are not visible,
owing to the tortuous irregularity of the passages ; in
other cases they are only deep hollows, covered with
turf. These sinkings are evidently occasioned by the
lowering of the surface in consequence of the removal
of the support beneath. Where the under parts have
been entirely displaced, the upper have fallen in, and
formed a chasm ; where only partially removed, deep,
turfy hollows are formed. These removals have been
occasioned, probably, by a stream of water running far

CRYPTOGAMOUS PLANT.

253

beneath, and washing away the support; and in part
by the superfluous water from the ditches and water*
courses above draining into the fissures of the rock, and
so gradually mining or wearing away a passage ; for
they are now frequently the receivers of all the running
water from the land, which seems naturally to drain
into them, and apparently has been so conducted for a
long course of years. Some of them present dark and
frightful chasms, and bushes and brambles are encour-
aged to grow about them, to prevent cattle from falling
into the pits. Many a fox, wrhen hard pressed, has
been known to make for these “ whirly pits,” as his last
resource ; and, secreting himself in some of the under
cavities, has escaped from the pursuit of his enemies
above. I once saw one of these animals dead at the
bottom. Whether he perished from being unable to
return up the crags after one of these retreats, or by
any other means, I know not.

In particular years we are much troubled here by the
luxuriant growth of a cryptogamous plant, which I be-
lieve to be the lichen fascicularis of Linnaeus : it may
always be found even in the dryest summers, but being
in those seasons shrivelled up, is in no way troublesome,
nor indeed noticed, unless sought for. This lichen
covers the walks of shrubberies at times in shady places,
and paths in the kitchen garden, appearing like a dull
olivaceous crust, most observable about October or No-
vember, and the spring months ; but in the summer of
1828, the unusual moisture of that season was so favor-
able to its growth, that even in August we could not
walk in safety in those places where it abounded, our
feet sliding along upon the gelatinous, slippery foliage
and tubercles. Upon the walks of our culinary gardens
we sprinkle coal ashes, and this enables us for some
time to pass along with tolerable safety ; but in the end
it so fosters the growth of this lichen, and small mosses,
which retain moisture as a sponge, that the evil we en-
deavor to remove is by the autumn increased : where
gravel is not obtainable, paring off* the crest of the walk
is the only effectual remedy, and this ultimately we are
necessitated to resort to. It is notable that such a very

W

254 WITHERING AND SEARING OF LEAVES.

insignificant product, this hardly discernible plant,
should endanger limb and life, and by circumstances
become so formidable to us “ lords of the creation,” as
to force us tp devise contrivances to counteract its inju-
rious tendencies.

There are times when we suffer here greatly by the
withering and searing up as it were of the leaves of our
vegetation, which we attribute generally to an early
morning’s frost. That late spring frosts do occasion
such injuries, and that noxious blasts, from causes which
we cannot divine, occasion infinite annual mischief, if
not destruction, to our wall fruit, is most manifest; yet
there is great reason to suspect that a large portion of
the injuries which we ascribe to blights, blasts, and
frosts, are occasioned by saline sprays brought by strong
western or south-western gales from King-road in the
Bristol Channel, eight or ten miles distant, or from even
more remote waters, and swept over the adjoining coun-
try where the wind passes. This saline wind has often
been suspected by me as the evil agent that accom-
plishes most of our blightings here ; and on November
the 3d, 1825, these suspicions were corroborated — for
on this and the preceding days we had strong gales
from the water, in consequence of which such windows
as were situate to the west and south-west were skim-
med over with a light saline scurf, the brass-work of
the doors was corroded and turned green, painted works
of all kinds were salt to the tongue, as was every thing
that could condense the moisture ; and the leaves of the
shrubs in the hedge-rows, and of trees, all turned brown,
and were crisped up. A row of large elms in particular,
that fronted the gale, received its full influence ; the
whole of the windward side, then in full foliage, became
perfectly brown and seared, and the leaves shortly after-
wards parted from their sprays and left them bare ;
while the other and sheltered side of the trees preserved
its green foliage very slightly influenced by the spray
that burned up the other. No period of the leafy sea-
son is exempt from these pernicious effects, more or
less, if the wind be sufficiently violent and blowing
from the Avater. Portions of the country distant from

SPOTTING OF APPLES.

255

the shores often seem more influenced by these salt
sprays than others more near, the wind lifting up the
saline moisture, bearing it aloft to remote parts, and
dropping it as it travels over the land or meets with im-
pediments.

Our apples in some years are more inclined to be-
come spotted than in others, from causes not quite ob-
vious, as moist summers do not occasion it more de-
cidedly than dry. Particular sorts are more subject to
these dark markings than others. The russet, though a
rough-coated fruit, seems exempt from spots; whereas
some of the smooth-rinded ones, especially the pear-
main, are invariably disfigured writh them. These marks
appear to be an secidium, which we frequently find to
be perfectly matured, the centre occupied with minute,
powdery capsules, having burst through their epidermis,
or covering, which hangs in fragments round the mar-
gin. This aecidium apparently derives its nutriment
from the apple ; for immediately round the verge of the
spot the skin becomes wrinkled in consequence of the
juices being drawn off* by the fungus. In most cases
the presence of plants of this nature is symptomatic of
decay ; but in this instance we find an exception to a -
pretty general effect, for the decay of the apple does
not always commence at the spot, which does not even
apparently contribute to * it— for the wThole fruit will
shrivel up in time by the escape of its juices, without
any decay by mortification. Though we are not able
always to ascertain the purposes of nature, yet this little
cryptogamous plant affords a strong example of her uni-
versal tendency to produce, and every vegetable sub-
stance seems to afford a soil for her productions. We
have even an agaric, with a bulbous root and downy
pileus,* that will spring from the smooth summit of

* This agaric is, I believe, unnoticed. I have called it Agaricus
surrectus.

Pileus — convex, expanding, covered with a pile of short, white
hair ; centre depressed ; faintly tinted with yellow ; from one to
three inches in diameter.

Laminae — loose, irregular, generally four in a set, rather numerous,
broad, white, changing to buff, and then pink.

250 AGARICUS SURRECTUS,

Agaricus Surrectus,

another (agaricus caseus), which has a uniform foot-
stalk, though not of common occurrence. Thus a plant,

Stipes — solid, tapering upwards, rather thick immediately below
the pileus, three inches high, thick as a reed, white, and often
downy, wrapper at the base.

Many of this species of singular plant I found in October, 1819,
springing from a confluent mass of a. caseus. Bolton’s a. pulvinatus
is something like our plant ; but he describes his under side as per-
fectly flat, and represents a singularity in the termination of his la»
minee, which is not observable in our a. surrectus.

SPOTTING OF LEAVES.

257

that itself arises from decay, is found to constitute a
soil for another; and the termination of this chain of
efficiency is hidden from us.

But the leaves of many vegetables often become singu-
larly spotted during some parts of the summer, and such
spots have not certainly been effected by the growth of
cryptogamous plants, natural decay, or the punctures of
insects, the usual agents in these cases. A very in-
different observer of these things, in strolling round his
garden, must have remarked how uniformly and singu-
larly the foliage of some of the varieties of the straw-
berry are spotted, and corroded as it were into little
holes ; whereas other kinds have seldom any of these
marks visible on them. I have fancied that these spot-
tings were occasioned by the influence of solar heat ;
a shower of rain falls, small drops collect and remain
upon the leaf of the plant ; the sun then darts out, con-
verting all these globules of rain into so many little
lenses, converging the rays, and scorching or burning
a hole at the focus. This conjecture has been rather
strengthened by observing, that upon certain sorts, the
„ hautboy, alpine, &c., the rain when it falls uniformly
wets the leaves, yet they do not become spotted ; but
the smooth leaves of others, roseberry, Caledonian, upon
which it stands in drops, always become marked and
perforated : but whatever may be the real cause of these
spottings, if the foliage be touched, by way of an ex-
periment, with the point of a heated wire, after a few
days they will present an appearance very similar to
what is naturally effected.

There seems to be a curious analogy in their func-
tions between the roots of plants and the moving parent
of animated beings, a similar obligation being required
from them both of providing for those dependent on
them, and both will exert their energies in fulfilment
of this ordained mandate : the roots of plants wander
up and down in every direction, seeking for sustenance;
and we frequently see trees, growing on rocks, extend-
ing their roots like sensitive beings, searching for mois-
ture ; if this is not obtained sufficiently, a sickly foliage

W 2

ASH TREE.

258

and impoverished growth point out the condition of the
plant.

The notable exertions which vegetables occasionally
make to obtain nutriment may be instanced by the fol-
lowing rude drawing of an ash,— a tree which, in con-

sequence of the profusion of its seed, we find more
often scattered in wild and singular places than any
other not propagated by the agency of birds, or con-
veyed by the winds. This one had originally been root-
ed in the earth, upon the top of a wall, but nourish-
ment being required beyoncl what was supplied by the pre-
carious moisture of the scanty soil, its roots proceeded
downwards, winding their way through the, crevices of
the stones into the earth beneath, and remained appa-
rently incorporated with the masonry ; the materials of
this wall being wanted for an adjoining work, were so
pulled out, as to leave the tree with all its roots detach-
ed, muqh as represented, with all its vegetative powers un-
injured: the root B had stretched itself along the top
of the wall, but how far it had extended in perfection,
is uncertain, being broken away when I saw it first.
The wood of the ash, when burned in a green state,

THE YEAR 1825.

259

will emit a fragrance like that which proceeds from the
violet or mezerion, and this it will diffuse in particular
states of the air to a considerable distance, a property
that, I believe, is not observable in any other British
wood : it is in the country only that we can be sensible
of this, and it is particularly to be perceived in passing
through a village when the cottagers are lighting their
fires, or by a farm-house, when this wood, fresh cloven,
or newly lopped off, is burning ; — as the wood dries,
this sweet smell is in a great measure exhaled with the
moisture, for in this state we are not sensible of ahy
odor arising from it different from other woods.

THE YEAR 1825.

We are naturally solicitous to look back upon seasons
remarkable for atmospheric phenomena, and compare
their results with those passing before us, though ive
may be fully sensible that no conclusions can safely be
drawn from them, — a variety of circumstances not
known, or not comprehended, combining to, produce
results beyond our means of calculation. The^e have
been times when such recollections brought no pleasure
with them, by displa)dng the injuries and sufferings that
hurricanes and floods have occasioned ; and thus we
who were witnesses of the distress occasioned by the
lamentable rains of 1793, and the several successive
years, when every wheat-sheaf presented a turf of
verdant vegetation, cannot recollect i| without sorrow,
or ever forget that famine in our land. Yet it is amusing,
on some occasions, to note the extremes of weather that
our island has experienced ; for though in general our
seasons pass away without any very considerable dis-
similitude, still we have known periods of great irregu-
larity, drought or moisture, cold or heat. The freezing
of great rivers, with the roasting of animals and passage
of carriages upon the ice, our calendars and diaries
relate ; but instances of an opposite temperature, afford-
ing less striking events, are not so fully detailed as
might be wished. The winter of 1661 appears to have

PECULIARITIES OF

260

been remarkable for its mildness ; and it is rather curious
that, in the century following, the winter of 1761 should
have been equally notable for the mildness of its tem-
perature. The winter of 1795 seems to have partaken
of none of the severity usual to the season ; and the
summer of 1765 was remarkable for its heat and dry-
ness, and all vegetation being influenced by their
effects, brought forth fruits and flowers in unusual per-
fection.

But perhaps the year 1825, taking all its circum-
stances, is the most extraordinary to be found in our
annals. The winter of 1824-5 had been mild and wet;
the ensuing spring dry, but with keen winds and frosty
mornings, which greatly injured the fine blossoms that
appeared on our fruit-trees ; and the continued and
profuse nightly fall of the honey-dew was quite un-
usual : the leaves of the oak, the cherry, and the plum,
were constantly smeared and dropping with this clammy
liquor, which, falling from the foliage on the ground,
blackened it as if some dark fluid had been spilled
upon it : the leaves of most of our stone fruits curled
up, covered with aphides, and became deciduous ; and
their young shoots were destroyed by the punctures of
these insects that clustered on them. This honey-dew
continued to fall till about the middle of July, affording
an abundant supply of food to multitudes of bees, moths,
and other insects which swarmed about the trees. We
rarely begin cutting our grass before the first week in
July; but in consequence of the heat of June in this
year, it was so drawn up, that much hay was made and
carried by the 20th of June, which commonly is not
accomplished till August. Our crops on good ground
were considered as fair, though in general the chilling
season of May had occasioned a deficiency ; but all our
clover crops and artificial grasses were harvested in the
finest order, producing good-sized ricks and mows ; yet
their bulk was delusive, the provender cutting out
light and strawy. The heat and drought continued, with
very partial and slight showers of rain, all June and
July ; nor had we any thing like serviceable rain till
the second of August. In consequence our grass lands

THE YEAR 1825. 261

i ic *\ - *

were burned up, and our fields parched, presenting deep
fissures in all parts. The heat was unusually distressing
all day; and evening brought us little or no relief, as
every wall radiated throughout the night the heat it
had imbibed from the torrid sun of the day. Our bed-
room windows were kept constantly open, all appre-
hension from damps and night airs, which at other times
were of the first consideration, being disregarded; a
cooler temperature, however obtained, was alone re-
quired ; and we lingered below, unwilling to encounter
the tossings and restlessness that our heated beds occa-
sioned. Our wainscots cracked, furniture contracted
and gaped with seams ; a sandal-wood box, which had
been in use for upwards of twenty years in dry rooms,
shrunk and warped out of all form ; a capsule of the
sandbox tree (hura crepitans), which had remained in
repose over a shelf above the fire-place for an unknown
length of time, now first experienced an excess of dry-
ness, and exploded in every direction ; door frames
contracted, window sashes bepame fixed and immova-
ble. These are trifles to relate, but yet they mark the
very unusual dryness of the atmosphere.

Monday and Tuesday, July 18th and 19th, will long
be remembered as the acme of our suffering, the ther-
mometer standing in the shade of a passage communi-
cating immediately with the outer air, in an open situa-
tion, at 82° of Fahrenheit. A few yards nearer the air,
on which the sun shone, it rose to 93.?, without any in-
fluence from reflection or other causes. In towns, and
more confined places, it is said, the heat was much
greater. The current of air now felt like that near the
mouth of an oven, heavy and oppressive, and occasion-
ing more unpleasant sensations than such a temperature
usually creates ; animals became distressed, the young
rooks of the season entered our gardens, and approached
our doors, as in severe frosts, with open bills, panting
for a cooler element ; horses dropped exhausted on the
roads ; many of the public conveyances, which usually
travelled by day, waited till, night, to save the cattle
from the overpowering influence of the sun. The leaves
of our apple and filbert trees, in dry situations, withered

PECULIARITIES OB'

262

up; large forest trees, especially the elm, had their
leaves so scorched by the sun, that they fell from their
sprays as in autumn, rustling along the ground ; the
larch became perfectly deciduous. In our gardens, the
havoc occasioned by the heat was very manifest. The
fruit of the gooseberry, burnt up before maturity, hung
shrivelled upon the leafless bushes ; the strawberry and
raspberry quite withered away ; the stalk of the early
potato was perfectly destroyed, and the tubers near the
surface in many places became roasted and sodden by
the heat, few obtaining their natural size, and sold at
this period in the Bristol market at twenty-four shillings
the sack. A few choice plants were saved by watering
them daily ; but in general the exhalation from the foli-
age, by reason of the heat of the earth, was greater
than the root could supply, the green parts withering as
if seared by a frost.

On the 20th of July, some farmers began to cut their
wheat; and by the 25th reaping had generally com-
menced. Our bean crop presented, perhaps, an unpre-
cedented instance of early ripeness, being usually
mowed in September ; but this year it was universally
ripe, indeed more perfectly so than the wheat, by the
1st of August. The crop, however, proved a defective
one : water became scarce, and the herbage of the fields
afforded so little nutriment, that the cows nearly lost
their milk, eight or ten being milked into a pail that
four should have filled; and one week, from July the
18th to the 24th, butter could not be made to harden,
but remained a soft oleaginous mass.

This extreme heat had a favorable influence on many
of our exotic plants, enabling several to perfect their
seed, which do not usually in our climate ; such as night-
stocks, erodiums, heliotrope, groundsels, cape-asters,
and such green-house plants vegetating in the open air.
With me all the polyanthus tribe, especially the double
varieties, suffered greatly; lovers of the cold and mois-
ture of a northern climate, in this tropic heat, they be-
came so parched as never properly to recover their ver-
dure, and in the ensuing spring I missed these gay and
pleasing flowers in my borders.

THE YEAR 1825.

263

It was a sad destructive season for the poor butter-
flies, and no sooner did a specimen appear upon the
wing, than the swallow and all the fly-catching tribe
snapped them up, rendered eager and vigilant from the
scarcity of insect food. Even that active and circum-
spect creature the hummingbird sphinx could not
always, with every exertion of its agility, escape their
pursuit.

Early in August rains fell, and continued seasonably
until September; and their effect upon our scorched
vegetation, from the general heat of the earth and the
air, was extremely rapid. The larch, and other trees
which had shed their leaves, now put forth their tender
green foliage as in spring ; and by the end of Septem-
ber the universal verdure of the country, and profusion
of feed in the pastures, was so perfectly unlike what we
had been accustomed to in common years, as to be as-
tonishing. Even as1 low in the year as the 11th of Oc-
tober, there was no appearance of any change in the
foliage, except a slight tinge upon the leaves of the
maple; and this day was so brilliant, that the cattle
were reposing in the shade, the thermometer varying
from 66° to 68° F., and the general warmth to our feel-
ings was greater than that indicated by the instrument.
October the 20th, the weather changed, some sleety rain
fell, and the hills were sprinkled with snow, the ther-
mometer falling to 40°, and all our hirundines, which
had been sporting about us up to this period, departed :
yet still vegetation continued in all its vigor, and on the
1st of November dog-roses hung like little garlands in
the hedges ; the cornel bushes (cornus sanguinea) were
in full bloom ; and corn-roses (rosa arvensis) were de-
corating our hedges in a profusion equal to that of a
common August. November 4th there were slight ice
and partial snow, with various alternations undeserving
of notice, but the weather was generally fair and mild
until Christmas.

All these preceding heats and rapid changes had, 1
think, a manifest influence upon our constitutions.
Violent catarrhs, and lingering, unremitting coughs,
prevailed among all classes, both before and after

264 KILLING OF INSECTS.

Christmas* to a degree that I never remember; and
children were afflicted with measles almost universally.
Early in January a violent wind was succeeded by a
severe frost, and in some places by a deep snow; but,
after about ten days’ duration, a very gentle thaw re-
moved all this, and the remainder of our winter was
mild and agreeable, introducing what might be called
an early spring, dry and propitious for every agricultural
purpose. The trees that refoliaged so vigorously in
autumn seemed in no way weakened by this unusual
exertion, but produced their accustomed proportion of
leaves, and the sprays of every bush and tree, ripened
and matured by the last summer’s sun, displayed a pro-
fusion, an accumulation of blossom, that gave the fairest
promise of abundance of fruit, and every product of the
earth.

That the death of any creature should be required
by the naturalist, to perfect his examination, or arrange
it in his collection, (and without a collection the inves-
tigation of any branch of natural history can be but
partially undertaken), may be regretted ; but still the
epithet of “cruel employ” must not be attached to this
pursuit. We do not destroy in wantonness, or unneces-
sarily ; and that life, of which it is expedient to deprive
a creature, is taken by the most speedy, and in the least
painful manner known. Some of our methods, if speedy,
are at the same time injurious, such as hot water, the
stifling-box, &c. ; and some, that are not painful, sucb
as stupefaction by spirits, ether, &c., and suffocation
by carbonate of ammonia, are occasionally not effectual.
But there is one process, which I believe to be neither
painful nor injurious, yet decisive, and communicative
with pleasure; I mean the prussic acid. This fluid
may be imbibed by the insect without producing any
particular effect ; but, if brought to act upon the spinal
cord, or what at least is analogous to that part of a ver-
tebrate animal, whatever it may be called, and which
seems to be the most vital part of the creation, instant

KILLING OF INSECTS. 265

death ensues. A crow-quill must be shaped into a
point, like a rather long pen, this point dipped into the
prussic acid, and an incision made with it immediately
beneath the head into the middle of the shoulders of the
creature, so as to permit the fluid it contains to enter
into the body of the insect. Immediately after this, in
every instance in which I have tried it, a privation of
sensation appears to take place, the corporeal action of
the creature ceasing, a feeble tremulous motion of the
antennse being alone perceptible ; and these parts seem
to be the last fortress that is abandoned by sensation, as
they are the primary principle of sensibility when life
is perfect : extinction of animation ensues, not a mere
suspension, but an annihilation of every power, muscu-
lar and vital. As one example of the decisive effects
of this fluid, I shall instance the common wasp, a crea-
ture so remarkably tenacious of sensation, or so long
retaining a muscular power, that it may remain, as every
one knows, for days crushed in the window, an appa-
rently dead insect, yet upon pressing the head, the sting
will be so protruded as to give a very sensible pain to
the finger it should meet with ,* but upon the prussic
acid being injected into this creature as above, when in
full vigor, in the course of less than half a minute a
loss of vitality ensues, the action of the muscular fibre
ceases altogether, and no pressure can incite it again
into action. The sudden effect of this liquor is not so
generally known as from humanity and expediency
might be wished. Who first devised the experiment I
am ignorant ; but any repetition of means whereby a
necessary end can be obtained by the least painful and
brief infliction, will hardly be considered as super-
fluous.

This subject naturally introduces the preservation of
the creatures after their death, and the young ento-
mologist is not perhaps sensible from experience of the
injury some species of insects will effect in the select-
ed specimens of others of this race, and may lament,
when too late, the separation of the wings, limbs, and
bodies of his collection by these tiny depredators (ptinus
fur, acararus destructor). Mr. Waterton’s recipe for

X

266 PRESERVATION OF INSECTS.

preventing this evil, I have used rather extensively
and believe it to be a very effectual, and generally an
innocuous preservative ; but as this gentleman has not
given us the exact proportions of his mixture, it may
not be useless to observe, that if one part of corrosive
sublimate be dissolved in eight parts of good spirit of
wine, and the under side of the insect touched with a
camel’s-hair pencil, dipped in the liquor, so as to let it
lightly pervade every part of the creature, which it
readily does, it will, I apprehend, prevent any future
injury from insects. A larger portion of the sublimate
will leave an unsightly whiteness upon the creature
when the specimen becomes dry. The under side of
the board, on which the insects are fixed, should be
warmed a little by the fire after the application, that
the superfluous moisture may fly off, before finally
closing the case. If this be omitted, the inner surface
of the glass will sometimes become partially obscured
by the fume arising from the mixture. The experienced
entomologist needs not a notice like this ; but the
young collector probably will not regard it as unneces-
sary information, and may be spared by it from both
mortification and regret. I have known insects com-
mence their serious operations before the collections
of the summer could be arranged in their permanent
cases.

In noticing above, that this solution is generally
harmless, it is requisite that mention should be made
of the few instances in which it has been observed to
be injurious. I have applied it to many specimens of
foreign and British insects, and commonly observed no
indication of its having been used, when the creatures
had become dry. But to confine our attentions to Eng-
lish specimens, when the solution is made stronger than
recommended, it will, after a time, injure the fine yellow
of the sulphur butterfly (papilio rhamni), by turning
parts of it brown and dirty ; but even in its reduced
state it has a manifest effect upon the colors of two of
our moths, the Dartford emerald (phalsena lucidata), and
what is commonly called the green housewife moth
(phalaena vernaria) changing their plumage, in several

267

POLLARDING TREES.

places, to a red buffy hue, when at the same time the
beautiful green wings of the small oak-moth (phalaena
viridana) are in no way altered by it. But notwithstand-
ing these circumstances, it will, I apprehend, be con-
sidered as a very useful preservative, and save many
specimens from destruction which other means usually
fail of effecting.

There are not many of our rural practices, that de
serve more the disapprobation of the landed proprietor
than that of pollarding trees. “ It is an evil under the
sun, and common among men.” Here it is universal.
This system of cutting off the heads of the young trees
in the hedge-rows is resorted to by the farmer for the
purpose of forcing them, thus deprived of their leaders,
to throw out collateral shoots, serving for stakes for the
fences, and for firewood. The purposes are effected ; but
of all hopes of timber, or profit to the proprietor, there
is an end. No trees suffer more in this respect than the
ash. Prohibitions against mangling trees, in agreements,
are usual ; but, with some exceptions in regard to oak,
little attention seems paid to the covenant, as is ob-
vious on the most cursory view of the country in any
direction ; whereas the ash is not a less valuable tree,
from its thriving more universally in all situations, and
becoming saleable in a shorter period. 'One or two gene-
rations must pass before an oak should be felled ; but
the ash becomes useful wood while its more respected
j companion is but a sapling. These prohibitions should
not simply be engrossed on the parchment, but the
agent ought strictly to notice any infringement; and
young ash trees should be more especially guarded,
because they are the most likely to suffer, from their pro-
ducing the greatest quantity of lop in the shortest time.
The injury done by this practice to the present landlord
and his successors is beyond estimation, as the numbers
destroyed, and the vigor of their growth, must be first
known; but there is not a farm of any extent from
which hundreds of ash trees might not have been felled,
had their growth been permitted, making an annual
return ; vyhereas nothing can be obtained now or here-
after for the proprietor, and only a few stakes and bavins

POLLARDING TREES.

268

for the farmer.* It is by no means an uncommon thing,
to observe every ash tree in a hedge reduced to stumps
by successive pollardings. Many a landlord would
shudder at the thought of breaking up an old productive
sward, and not regard the topping of an ash ; whereas
this latter act is infinitely more injurious, ultimately,
than the former. The land may, and will probably, re-
cover, but the tree is lost for ever, as to any profitable
purposes for the owner. The farmer might perhaps tell
the agent when he remonstrated, that he must have
fire-wood, and hedging stuff; but the wants of the
former have decreased by the facility of obtaining other
fuel, and neither is to be supplied by the landlord at
such a ruinous subversion of present and future benefit.
I am not so silly as to enlarge upon the beauty of what
has been called “picturesque farming;” but when we
cast our eyes over the country, and see such rows of
dark, club-headed posts, we cannot but remark upon
the unsightly character they present, and consider it
neither laudable to deform our beautiful country by the
connivance, nor proper attention to individual profit to
allow the continuation of it. The ash, after this mutila-
tion, in a few years become flattened at the summit,
moisture lodges in it, and decay commences, the central
parts gradually mouldering away, though for many years
the sap wood will throw out vigorous shoots for the
hatchet. The goat-moth now too commences its mordi-
cations, and the end is not distant. But the wood of
the ash appears in every stage subject to injury ; when
in a dry state the weevils mine holes through it ; when
covered by its bark, it gives harbor to an infinite variety
of insects, which are the appointed agents for the re-
moval of the timber : the ashen bar of a stile, or a post, we
may generally observe to be regularly scored by rude

* The ash, generally speaking, will arrive at a very serviceable
age, in sixty years, producing at a low rate twenty-eight feet of
timber, which, at 2s. 3 d. the foot, its present value, would produce
a sum equivalent to 31 3s., a silent unheeded profit of above a shil-
ling a year. A hundred such might have been felled annually from
many farms had they not been topped, which, in consequence of
this practice have produced nothing.

THE WILLOW TREE.

269

lines diverging from a central stem, like a trained fruit-
tree, by the meanderings of a little insect (ips niger,
&c.), being the passages of the creatures feeding on
the wood.

There is one race of trees, the willow, very common
about us, that is so universally subject to this pollarding,
for the purpose of providing stakes and hurdles for the
farm, that probably few persons have ever seen a willow
tree. At any rate a sight of one grown unmutilated
from the root is a rare occurrence. The few that I have
seen constituted trees of great beauty ; but as the wil-
low, from the nature of its wood, can never be valuable
as a timber tree, perhaps by topping it we obtain its
best services. In the county of Gloucester there are
several remarkable trees of different species now grow-
ing, but I am not acquainted with any greater natural
curiosity of this sort than an uncommonly fine willow
tree in the meadows on the right of the Spa-house at
Gloucester. There are two of them ; the species I for-
get, but one tree is so healthy and finely grown, that it
deserves every attention, and should be preserved as a
unique specimen, an example of what magnitude this
despised race may attain when suffered to proceed in
its own unrestrained vigor.

Dec. 30.— A cold foggy morning, the ground covered
with a white frost ; about twelve o’clock the sun burst
out with great brilliancy, and life and light succeeded
to torpor and gloom ; a steam immediately arose from
our garden beds and plowed lands, giving us a very
strong example of the rapid manner in which the matter
of heat (caloric) will at times unite with water. Half
an hour before, this water was frozen and inert ; but
the instant that the sun’s rays fell upon it, their heat
was imbibed, and the icy matter converted into a body
lighter than the atmosphere by which it was surrounded,
and passed into it in the vapor we have just noticed.
I was the more particular in observing this common
event, as it afforded a forcible illustration of the in-
visible evaporation which is constantly going forward,
the unremitting changes in operation, the action and
reaction of the earth and its products with the atmo-

X 2

270 ATMOSPHERIC OBSERVATIONS.

sphere. During the night, and the earlier parts of the
morning, water was falling on the earth in minute
particles, constituting what we call fog; then out
burst the sun, and reclaimed this moisture which had
fallen, and we could see it obeying the mandate, and
pass away in steam. In the evening it will probably
return again in fog, or in rain, when the atmosphere
cools ; and thus a constant visible intelligence is going
on. How much insensible intercourse takes place we
know not, but we can comprehend its agency by the
effects and events that manifest themselves. Our country
people think these “ rokings ” (reekings) of the earth
greatly favorable to the growth of vegetation, supposing
it occasioned by the internal heat of the earth pro-
ducing a vapor like that from fermenting soil, thus
warming the roots ; but if the theory be defective, the
fact may be true, by the caloric in the sun’s rays pro-
moting the decomposition of the water, or separating
the component parts (oxygen and hydrogen), which
uniting with other matters contained in the earth and
atmosphere (carbon and carbonic acid) become by this
means the basis of all our fruits, our sweets, our sours,
resins, &c., in the vegetable world ; and hence there
is a constant decomposition of water going forward by
these alternations, and a constant formation of matters
beneficial and necessary for the various inhabitants of
the earth. When we perceive that a shower of rain
has revived or promoted the increase of vegetation, we
must understand, that the mere wetting it has not ac-
complished this ; but that the vegetable has by means
of its foliage, aided by light and heat, decomposed or
separated the combined matters of the water, and taken
from it certain portions as essential to its vigor, or been
revictualled, in a manner, by the nutriment contained
in the water.

Jan. 10.— The ground covered with snow, the pools
with ice, trees and hedges leafless, and patched here
and there with a mantle of white, present a cheerless,
dreary void ; no insects are animating the air, and all
our songsters are silent and away ; a few miserable
thrushes are hopping on the ditch bank, swept bare by

CALORIC.

271

the wind ; and the robin puffing out his feathers, and
contracting his neck into his body, is peeping with his
fine bright eyes into the windows from the cypress
bough. A few evergreens are waving their sprays, and
glittering in the light, yet making but poor compensa-
tion for the variety, the flutter, the verdure, of our sum-
mer. Though we have little natural beauty to note or
to record, we are not left without a testimony of an
overruling Power ; and, however sad and melancholy
things may appear at the first view, yet a more steady
observation will manifest to us a presiding Providence
and Mercy. Frost and snow are but cheerless subjects
for contemplation, yet I would add a reflection in my
Journal of our passing events, or rather recall from
memory the truth, that science has made known to us,
revived by the sight of that frozen pool. There is one
universal body, inherent in every known substance in
nature, latent heat, which chemists have agreed to call
44 caloric.” By artificial means bodies may be deprived
of certain portions of it ; and then the substance most
usually contracts, and increases in weight. Water is
an exception to this ; for in losing a part of its heat,
the cause of its fluidity, and becoming ice, it expands,
and is rendered lighter, by inclosing, during the opera-
tion, more, or less of atmospheric air : consequently it
swims, covering the surface. To this very simple cir-
cumstance, ice floating and not sinking, are the banks
and vicinities of all the rivers, lakes, pools, or great
bodies of water in northern Europe, Asia, and America,
rendered habitable, and what are now the most fertile
and peopled would be the most sterile and abandoned,
were it not for this law of nature. Had ice been so
heavy as to sink in water, the surface on freezing would
have fallen to the bottom, and a fresh surface would be
presented for congelation ; this would then descend in
its turn, and unite with the other; and thus during a
hard frost successive surfaces would be presented, and
fall to the bottom, as long as the frost or any fluid re-
mained. By this means the whole body of the water
would become a dense concretion of ice : its inhabitants
would not only perish, but the indurated mass would

EFFECTS OF WINTER'S WORKINGS.

272

resist the influence of the sun of any summer to thaw
it, and continue congealed throughout the year, chilling
the earth in its neighborhood, and the winds that passed
over it, preventing the growth of vegetation in the for-
mer, or blighting and destroying it by the influence of
the latter*

Winter is called a dull season ; and to the sensations
of some, the enjoyments of others, and, perhaps, to the
vision of all, it is a most cheerless period. This is so
universally felt, that we always associate the idea of
pleasure with the return of spring : whatsoever our oc-
cupations or employments may be, though its sleety
storms and piercing winds may at times chill the very
current in our veins, yet we consider it as a harbinger
of pleasurable hours and grateful pursuits. We com-
mence our undertakings, or defer them till spring. The
hopes or prospects of the coming year are principally
established in spring; and we trust that the delicate
health of the blossoms round our hearths, which has
faded in the chilling airs of winter, may be restored by
the mild influence of that season. Yet winter must
be considered as the time in which Nature is most
busily employed ; silent in her secret mansions, she is
now preparing and compounding the verdure, the flow-
ers, the nutriment of spring ; and all the fruits and
glorious profusion of our summer year are only the ad-
vance of what has been ordained and fabricated in these
dull months. All these advances require Omnipotent
wisdom and power to perfect ; but perhaps a more ex-
alted degree of wisdom and power has been requisite to
call them into a state of being from nothing. The
branch of that old pear-tree now extended before me,
is denuded and bare, presenting no object of curiosity
or of pleasure ; but, had we the faculty to detect, and
power to observe, what was going forward in its secret
vessels, beneath its rugged, unsightly covering, what
wonder and admiration would it create ! — the materials
manufacturing there for its leaf, and its bark; for the
petals and parts of its flowers ; the tubes and machinery
that concoct the juices, modify the fluids, and furnish
the substance of the fruit, with multitudes of other un-

THE RIGORS OF WINTER. 273

known operations and contrivances, too delicate and
mysterious to be seen, or even comprehended, by the
blindness, the defectibility of our nature — things of
which we have no information, being beyond the range
of any of the works or the employments of mankind !
We may gather our pear, be pleased with its form or its
flavor ; we may magnify its vessels, analyze its fluids,
yet be no more sensible of its elaborate formation, and
the multiplicity of influences and operations requisite
to conduct it to our use, than a wandering native of a
polar clime could be of the infinite number of proces-
ses that are necessary to furnish a loaf of bread, from
plowing the soil to drawing from the oven. This is but
an isolated instance, amidst thousands of others more
complicated still. How utterly inconceivable then are
the labors, the contrivances, the combinations, that are
going forward, and accomplishing, in this our dull sea-
son of the year, in that host of nature’s productions
with which, shortly, we shall everywhere be sur-
rounded !

Jan. 20th. — A keen frost, and the ground covered
with snow, present a scene of apparent suffering and
want to many of our poor little birds ; but the preserva-
tion of the fowls of the air, which sow not nor gather
into barns, has been beautifully instanced to us, as a
manifest evidence of a superintending Providence : the
full force of this testimony is most strongly impressed
upon us in a season like this, when winter rules with
rigor, and we marvel how the life of these beings can
be supported when the waters are bound up, and earth
and all its products hidden by a dense covering of snow;
Many of the small birds obtain subsistence by picking
the refuse of our corn-stacks, by seeds scattered about
our homestalls and cattle-yards, but multitudes of others
are in no way dependent upon man for shelter or sup-
port, do not even approach his dwelling, but are main-
tained by the universal bounty of Providence ; as the
wood-lark, the meadow-lark, the chats, and several
others ; but by what means they are maintained in a
period like this is not quite manifest. The portion that
they require is probably small, yet it must be insect

274

WINTER SUBSISTENCE OF BIRDS.

food, and the chats, larks, and gray wagtails, seem busily
engaged in providing for their wants upon the furze
sprays, amidst frozen grass, or upon the banks of ditches
and pools ; and as no insect but the winter gnat is now
found in such places, it is probable that this creature,
which sports in numbers in every sunny gleam, yields
them in this season much of their support. Some of
the insectivorous birds have at such periods no apparent
difficulty in supporting their existence, finding their
food in a dormant state in mosses, lichens, and crevices
of trees and buildings ; but for those which require
animated creatures, I am sensible of none that are to be
procured but this gnat, and it possibly has been endow-
ed with its peculiar habits and dispositions for a purport
like this. We have many examples in nature of simi-
lar provisions, wherein one race supports the existence
and requirements of another. The molusca and insects
of the deep continue the life of some, the feeble races
of the air and waters maintain the beings of others, and
the beast of the wild seeks his food amidst those which
inhabit with him ; but where this chain ends, human
faculties will probably never be able to ascertain. The
remarkable fact which our microscopes make known to
us, that all infusions of natural substances in water
will produce life, however extraordinary the form may
be, seems to denote a continuation of being beyond
any possible comprehension, and probably subservient
to the existence of each other : the minute creature
that floats a hardly perceptible atom in the water of
the ditch, and which subsists many of the animals
which inhabit those places, feeds upon smaller than it-
self, and those again, possibly, upon more minute ones
which the vegetable infusions of those places give ex-
istence to : here the investigation terminates, but the
thread unbroken continues, probably through endless
gradations, perceptible to infinity alone.

Having applauded the operations of Nature with so
much cordiality, possibly I may be called her “ enthusi-
astic adorer,” but the epithet must be disclaimed.
None can respect the works of creation more, but ’tis
not with an ecstasy that glows, fades, and expires, but

ATMOSPHERIC EXPERIMENTS.

275

with a calm deep-rooted conviction implanted in the
boy, and increased by years of notice and experience.
I have followed her footsteps, though far, very far dis-
tant, as an humble admirer of perfection, nor can my
veneration cease whilst reason continues undisturbed.

Sept. 8th, 1828.— A remarkably dry and exhausting
day, not from any peculiar influence of the solar heat,
but from the arid state of the air, which was very dis-
tressing to our feelings, and all tender vegetation be-
came languid and suffering under its influence. I en-
deavored to ascertain the power of absorption possessed
by the air at the time by an experiment, rude" enough
to be sure, yet it tended in some measure to indicate
the rapid manner in which fluids are exhaled in par-
ticular states of the atmosphere. A linen cloth twelve
inches square, which had absorbed an ounce avoirdu-
pois of water, was suspended in the shade in a free
current of air, and in the course of ten minutes it had
lost 436 grains, equal to one-sixteenth of its weight.
This great evaporation was principally effected by the
absorbent power of the air, and manifested in some de-
gree the exhausting influence that was passing over the
earth and the vegetation exposed to the current of air ;
and as the roots could not derive sufficient moisture
from the soil to supply what was thus drawn from the
leaves, the foliage became languid and flaccid in conse-
quence. The linen, containing the same quantity of
water, was then spread upon a short turf in the sun,
and in the space of ten minutes it lost 368 grains, and
this was effected without any particular influencing
current of air; accordingly, the evaporation from an
acre of moist land covered with vegetation would ex-
ceed one hundred and twenty-two cwt. of water in an
hour ! As the quantity drawn from the vegetation on the
soil may be equal to the shelter its foliage affords to the
earth, no very accurate data can be drawn from this
experiment ; for different soils will give out their mois-
ture more or less easily, and succulent vegetables be

276 EFFECT OF AN EARLY FROST.

more influenced than those of a drier nature ; but it
served at the time to indicate the portion of moisture
that was escaping from a given horizontal surface.
From the invisible and insensible nature of evaporation,
its influences are not always considered ; but such an
action on the surfaces of things as that related above,
must put into operation all the inherent powers of mat-
ter susceptible of impulse, and probably would produce
effects which we might suppose to be accomplished by
the agency of other means.

Nov. 10. — Many effusions of the mind have been
produced by the approach or existence of the seasons
of our year, which seem naturally to actuate our bodily
or mental feelings through the agency of the eye, or
temperature of the air. The peculiar silence that pre-
vails in autumn, like the repose of wearied nature,
seems to mark the decline and termination of being in
many things that animated our summer months ; the
singing of the bird is rare, feeble, and melancholy ; the
hum of the insect is not heard; the breeze passes by
us like a sigh from nature : we hear it, and it is gone for
ever. But it is the vegetable tribes, which at this sea-
son most particularly influence our feeling, and excite
our attention. We see the fruits of the earth stored up
for our use in that dull season “ in which there will be
neither earing nor harvest,” the termination and reward
of the labors of man. But this day, November 10,
presented such a scene of life and mortality, that it
could not be passed by without viewing it as an admo-
nition, a display of what has been, and is. There had
occurred during the night a severe white frost; and,
standing by a green-house filled with verdure, fragrance,
and blossom, I was surrounded in every direction by the
parents of all this gaiety, in blackness, dissolution, and
decay. But the very day before, they had attracted the
most merited admiration and delight by the splendor of
their bloom and the vigor of their growth; but now
just touched by the icy Anger of the night, they had
become a mass of unsightly ruins and confusion. Once
the gay belles of the parterre, they fluttered their hour,
a generation of existent loveliness ; their youthful sue-

TENDENCIES OF NATURE TO PRODUCE. 277

cessors, unpermitted to mingle with them, peeped from
their retreats above, seeming almost to repine at their
confinement ; they have bloomed their day, another race
succeeds, and their hour will be accomplished too. This
was so perfectly in unison with the shifting scenes of
life, the many changes of the hour, that it seemed in-
separably connected with a train of reflection, with the
precepts which all nature points out — her still small
whisperings for the ears of those that can hear them.

The extraordinary tendency that Nature has to pro-
duce, and the vigilant perseverance she maintains to
occupy all substances as a soil for her productions,
when they arrive at a state fitting for her purposes, is a
well-known fact, and is perfectly in consistency with
the uniform habit she preserves, of letting “ no fragment
be lost.” All things tend upwards, from some original,
through an infinity of gradations, though the beginning
and termination may not always be perceived, nor the
links of this vast chain be found. The most obscure
plants, agarics or mucor, as far as we know, perfect their
seed, and give birth to other generations ; but there is a
fine green substance, observable upon the sprays of
trees, stems of various shrubs in every hedge, upon old
rails and exposed wood-work, leaving a powdery mark
upon one’s coat that has rubbed against such places,
which I have always considered as the very lowest ru-
diment of vegetation. This matter, submitted to ex-
amination in the microscope, presents no foliage or
plant-like form, but appears a kind of pollen, a capsule,
or a perfected seed, suspended on a fine fibre ; but from
the extreme smallness of it I speak with hesitation, net
being able to define it satisfactorily with the most pow-
erful lens. If it be, as I have conjectured, a perfected
seed, it probably is the origin of many of those minute
mosses, that become rooted, we know not by what
means, upon banks, stones, barks, &c., in such profu-
sion ; but here all investigation ceases : by what agency
this fine seed has been so profusely scattered, or from
what source it sprang, is hidden from us, and we can
no more satisfactorily conjecture, than we can account
for those myriads of blighting insects, which so sud-

Y

CONCLUDING REFLECTIONS.

278

denly infest our grain, our fruits, and our plants.
There is an inquisition, where all human knowledge
terminates ; the bounds of nature have never been
defined.

Without considering the various sources of enjoy-
ment and pleasure bestowed upon an intelligent crea-
ture, what a scene of glorious display might be opened
to man through the agency of the eye alone ! Motives
we must abandon, as probably they are beyond our com-
prehensions ; but were the powers of vision so enlarged
or cleared as to bring to observation the now unknown
fabrication of animate and inanimate things, what as-
tonishment would be elicited ! The seeds, the pollen of
plants, the capillary vessels and channels of their seve-
ral parts, with their concurrent actions, the clothing of
various creatures, and all that host of unperceived wis-
dom around us ! Yet probably the mind, constituted as
it now is, would be disturbed by the constant excite-
ment such wonders would create ; but at present,
though sparingly searched out by the patient investiga-
tor, and but obscurely seen, they solace and delight ;
“ cheer, but not inebriate.”

“ Oh good beyond compare !

If thus thy meaner works are fair,

If thus thy bounties gild the span
Of ruin’d earth and sinful man,

How glorious must that mansion be
Where thy redeem’d shall live with thee !*’

And now I think I have pretty well run over my
diary, the humble record of the birds, the reptiles, the
plants, and inanimate things around me. They who
have had the patience to read these my notes, will
probably be surprised that I could take the trouble to
register such accounts of such things; and I might
think so too, did I not know how much occupation and
healthful recreation the seeking out these trifles have
afforded me, rendering, besides, all my rural rambles
full of enjoyment and interest : companions and inti-

CONCLUDING REFLECTIONS.

27

mates were found in every hedge, on every bank, whose
connexions I knew something of, and whose individual
habits had become familiar by association ; and thus
this narrative of my contemporaries was formed. Few
of us, perhaps, in reviewing our by-gone days, could
the hours return again, but would wish many of them
differently disposed of, and more profitably employed :
but I gratefully say, that portion of my own passed in
the contemplation of the works of nature is the part
which I most approve — which has been most conducive
to my happiness ; and, perhaps, from the sensations ex-
cited by the wisdom and benevolence perceived, not
wholly unprofitable to a final state, and which might be
passed again, could I but obtain a clearer comprehen-
sion of the ways of Infinite Wisdom. If in my pro-
found ignorance I received such gratification and plea-
sure ; what would have been my enjoyment and satis-
faction, “ if the secrets of the Most High had been
with me, and when by His light I had walked through
darkness ? ”

INDEX.

Agarics, the pale gray species
of, 86 — the verdigris, ibid.—
not easily investigated, 87 —
the odorous agaric, 91 — the
scented, ibid. — the “ stainer,”
ibid. — the surrectus springing
from another species, 256.

Agriculture, practice o£ at a
village in Gloucestershire, 22
— bad custom of the farmers
there, 40.

Aerial hummings, 250.

Amusements, heretofore holiday
ones, in decline, 246.

Animals, increase of, 101— what
dependent on man, 151 —
what independent, 152 — use-
fulness of, to man, 153 — affec-
tion of, to their young, 176-
mercy to, a scriptural com-
mand, ibid.

Ant, the black, 212 — the red,
213 — the yellow, ibid.

Apples injured by aphides, 235
— spottings on, how occasion-
ed, 255.

Ash trees, 267.

Atmospheric influences, 249-
observations, 269 — experi-
ments, 275.

Auger-worms, 203.

Autumn, pleasure of a morn-
ing’s walk in, 83.

Aust-ferry, 9.

Bee, the carpenter, 53.

Beetle, the rose, 53 — the dorr,
217 — the great water species,
224. 232.

Birds, partiality of the author
to, 109. 120 — migration of,
110. 145 — injurious to trees,
114 — various food of, ibid.—
song and voices of, 119. 178.

189— nests of, 121, 122, 123,
124 — great destroyers of in-
sects, 124 — species of, dimin-
ishing in number, 137 — labor
of, to feed their young, 140 —
friendship of, 147 — eggs of,
156. 182 — dislike of, to man,
160 — -stratagem of one, 163 —
early rising of, 164 — boldness
of, 176 — solitary and congre-
gating ones, 178— language
of, unvarying, 185 — pleasure
afforded by, to man, 189 — -
For the different kinds, see
their respective English
names.

Blackbird, song of the, 188.

Blackcap, the, 159.

Blight, 236 — some trees not af-
fected by, ibid — manner in
which this insect propagates
itself, 237— whence derived,
uncertain, 238 — saline winds
a supposed cause of, 254.

Bombylius, the, 211.

Bones of horses and human be-
ings dug up, conjecture re-
specting, 11.

Bouquets* wearing of, not in
use, 57.

Bramble, the common, almost
an evergreen, 77 — lines on its
leaves, ibid — its uses, 78.

Bullfinch, the, 113.

Bunting, peculiar practice of
the, 173.

Burnet, conjecture as to its last-
ing verdure, 63.

Butcher-bird, the, 134.

Butterfly, the sulphur, 74 — the
argus, 195 — the phlseas, 196
— the azure, ibid — the painted
lady, 198 — the marble, 199 —
the meadow brown, ibid.

2

282

INDEX,

Caloric, effects of, on bodies,
271.

Chaffinch, the, 116.

Changes in nature, 221.

Cheese, cheap kind of, 22.

Christmassing, 246.

Chrysalides of insects, 191.

Chrysalis, singular one, 186.

Cleanliness of animals, 219.

Clematis, the wild, 81 — sticks
of, used by boys for smoking,
82.

Clocks, name given to the great
dorr beetle, 217.

Cockchaffer, 220.

Coins dug out of the earth, 10.

Color, probably reflected light,
60.

Coral polypi, 15.

Crossbill, the, 128.

Cruelty, a vice of the ignorant,
96.

Dandelion, the, 74.

Day’s eye, the, 74.

Death’s-head moth, 222.

Digestion, power of, in birds,
146.

Dog, usefulness of, to man, 153.

Dogsbane destructive to insects,
61.

Dry-rot, the, 88.

Dyers, capricious in their art,
59.

Dyers’ broom, 58 — gathering of,
59 — uses of, ibid — dyers’,
weed, 72.

Earth-worm, the common, 231.

Elm tree, the wych, a singular-
ly beautiful one, 46 — value
of, 47 — uses of, ibid. — soon
decays, 48 — leaves of the elm
marked with plague-spots, 89.

Empiricism, 235.

Entomology, 190.

Evaporation from the earth, ef-
fect of, 63.

tons of some of his foragers,

Fairy rings, 250.

Fescue, spines of the hard, bear-
ing no flowers, 77.

Fieldfare, the, 181.

Flea, the water, 215.

Flowers of plants, 52 — pleasures
afforded by, 53 — use and ap-
plication of, 54. 56 — natural
love of, 54 — the playthings of
children, 55.

Fly, the house, 151 — the biting,
ibid. — the four-spotted dragon,
192.

Fly-catcher, the gray, 146.

Foxglove, 67.

Friendship between birds, in-
stance of, 146, 147.

Frost, early, effect of on flower-
ing plants, 276.

Fungi, beauties of, 85— varieties
of, 86 — uncertain appearance
of, ibid — mutations of, 87 —
agents of decay, 88 — propaga-
tion of, 93.

Fur of animals, 107.

Gallinaceous birds, 172.

Gamma-moth, the, 210,

Ghost-moth, 190.

Glaucous birthwort, 62.

Gleaning, profits of, to the poor,
244— antiquity of the custom,
245,

Glow-worm, the, 207.

Gnat, the winter, 189,

Goat-moth, 202.

Goldfinch, the, 166.

Grass crops, nature of, in the
author’s village, 22 — certain
grasses attached to certain
soils, 23 — grass balls, 77.

Guinea, anecdote of the finding
of one, 248,

Hair of animals, 106.

Hair-worm, the clay, 226,

Hawk, the sparrow, 144 — the
kestrel, ibid. — the hawk-moth,
197.

Fairfax, general, supposed skele-

INDEX. 283

Hay* crops of* method of saving,
25.

Hazel-tree, how liable to decay,
90.

Hedge-hog, the, 96.

Hellebore, 52 — its medicinal
uses, ibid.

Helvetia, the mitred, 87.

Holly-trees, 247.

Hornet, the, 227.

Horse, instance of the longevity
of one, 127.

Hummingbird, hawk-moth, the,
i97.

Hummings in the air, 250.

Hydnum fungus, the beautiful
floriform, 87.

Ice, cause of its swimming in-
stead of sinking, 271.

Industry, profitable fruits of, to
an agricultural laborer, 19.

Insects entrapped by the snap-
dragon, 61 — destroyed by the
sun-dew, ibid — by the dogs-
bane with great suffering, ibid,
—paths of, on leaves, 77 —
their manner of puncturing,
81 — consumption of, by birds,
124 — but little attended to or
studied, 190 — chrysalis of,
191 — speedy methods of kill-
ing them, 264 — best mode of
preserving specimens, 265.

Insensibility to pain, striking in-
stance of, 17.

Ivy, 64.

Jack Snipe. See Snipe,

Jay, the, 133.

Kite, the, its numbers greatly
on the decline, 158 — -extraor-
dinary capture of a number,
158.

Lady- bird note of a rong- thrush,
188.

Language of birds, 185.

Laurel-tree, the, 89.

Leasing. See Gleaning.

Life, duration of, 126.

Lily, blossoms of, indicative of
old of the price of wheat, 174.

Lime, 12 — nature and uses of,
13 — its abundance, ibid — for-
mation and origin of, ibid. —
analysis of, 15 — residences
upon its soil supposed to be
healthy, 17.

Limekiln, frightful consequen-
ces of a traveller’s sleeping
on one, 17.

Linnet, the, 112.

Longevity. See Life.

Magpie, the, 132.

Manure, picking it from grass
lands for corn lands, a bad
practice, 40.

Maple tree, 79 — the under sides
of the leaves of, a beautiful
microscopic object, 80.

Marten cat, the, 95.

Maypoles, now seldom seen,
246.

Migration of birds, 110. 145.

Mistletoe, 71.

Moles, 104 — their sense of
smelling, 106 — rankness of
their flesh, 108.

Morel!, the stinking, 92 — the
esculent, 94.

Moth, the ghost, 192 — the hawk,
197 — the yellow under- wing,
200 — the gamma, 201 — the
goat, 202 — the death’s-head,
222 — the ermine, 243,

Mouse, the harvest, 99 — the
water, 101 — the common, 151
—the meadow, and long-tail-
ed, ibid.

Labor of the peasantry in the
author’s village, profits of, 19.

Natural affection, 133.

INDEX.

284

Natural history little attended
to, 41.

Naturalist, pleasing* occupations
of the, 83.

Nature, designs of, 204 — changes
in, 221 — tendencies of, to pro-
duce, 277.

Nests of birds, 121, 122.

Newt, the common, 215 — a
small shell-fish often attached
to its toe3, ibid.

Nidularia, the bell-shaped, 94.

Nightingale, the, less common
than heretofore, 138 — croak-
ing of, 188.

Nosegays, 57.

Oak tree, description of one, 42
— several of extraordinary
magnitude, 43, 45 — the oak
less fruitful now than former-
ly, 44 — its value, from its va-
rious uses, 46.

Oat grass, 70.

Pain, instance of insensibility
to, 17.

Passerine birds, 172.

Peacock butterfly (note), 200.

Peewit, the, 179.

Phallus. See Morell.

Pick-a-bud, name given to the
bullfinch, 114.

Pimpernel, the, a prognosticator
of fine weather, 174.

Plants, blossoms of, 52 — names
given to them of old, from
their supposed qualities, 68 —
pores of, 82 — -decomposition
of, 89.

Pollarding trees, 267.

Polypi of the coral, 15.

Poor, employment of the, 18.

Poplar tree, 57.

Potato, culture of the, 26 — sorts,
27 — profits, 28— -effects of, on
soils, 30 — history of, ibid. — *
value of, as food, 35.

Prognostications of wind and
weather. See Wind and
Weather.

Providence, inattention to, 234.

Puff, the gray, 87— the turreted,
93 — the stellated, 94.

Rapacious birds, 171.

Rats, migration of, 101 — other
particulars of, 151.

Raven, the, 125.

Redwing, 180.

Reeking of the earth, 269.

Robin, the, 115.

Roman encampment, 9 — roads,

10.

Rook, the, 128 — its affection,
129 — -sagacity, 130 — appears
to be decreasing in numbers,
138.

Rose, the white moss, 238 (note),
the wild, 263.

Royal forest, indications of one
in Gloucestershire, 11.

Seasons, variableness of, 145 —
effect of, 240.

Sex, increase of, in 1825, 102,
note.

Shrew, the water, 102 — the
common, 113 — new species
of, 104.

Shrike. See Butcher-bird.

Sinking of the earth, 252.

Sky-lark, the, 184.

Smelling, question of the sense
of, in birds, 132.

Smokewood, sticks of the wild
clematis so called, 82.

Snail, the common, 228 — the
banded, 231 — -the halotideus,
238.

Snakes, eggs of, 208 — harmless-
ness of, 209 — general aversion
to, 210.

Snapdragon, peculiarities of, 60
—an insect trap, ibid. 62.

Snipe, the jack, its habits, 176—
supposed the male of the larger
snipe, 178.

INDEX.

Snowdrop, the, 69 a melan-
choly flower, 70.

Soil, of the parish in which the
author resides, 12 — various
sorts of, 20 — analysis of, use-
less, ibid — picking soil off
grass lands a bad custom, 40.

Song of birds. See Birds.

Sparrow, the hedge, 109 — the
common, 149.

Spottings, on apples, 255 — on
strawberry leaves, 257.

Starling, the common, 139 — the
brown, 142.

Steaming of the earth, 269.

Stinking phallus, the, 92.

Stormy petrel, the, 135.

Strontian, 16.

Sulphur butterfly, 74.

Sun-dew, destructive to insects,
61.

Superstition, 222. 230.

Swallows, their nests, 123 — kill-
ed in wanton sport, 155.

Sycamore tree, singularity of its
leaves, 89.

Teasel, its cultivation, 35— its
profits, 37 — its uses, 39.

Thorn, the white, uniform in its
blossoming, 145.

Thrush, the solitary, 142 — the
common, 147— -the missel, 175
— song of, 188, -

Timidity of animals, 176.

Tokens. See Prognostications.

Tom-tit, or tit-mouse, the little
blue, rewards for the destruc-
tion of, 117 — perishes in se-
vere winters, 118 — the long-
tailed, 120 — instance of its
intelligence in the care of its
young, 124.

Traveller’s joy, name given to
the wild clematis, 81.

Trees, attractors of humidity,
48 — condense fogs, 49 — ver-
dure beneath, ibid — mischief
of pollarding them, 267.

285

Tree-creeper, the, 167.

Turnip, singularly decorated
one, as a holiday amusement,
247.

Uredo, the two-fronted, a sub-
stance attached to the leaves
of the laurel, 89.

Vermin, parish reward for the
destruction of, 117.

Vervain, 71 —respect paid of
old to this plant, ibid — its
supposed powers and quali-
ties, 72.

Village clubs, 57.

Wagtail, yellow, the, 168.

Wald, or wold, the dyers’ weed
so called, 72.

Want, the, 104.

Wasp, the common, 199 — the
solitary, 226 — its nest, ibid.

Water, stagnated and putres-
cent, favorable for the resi-
dence of insects, 215.

Water-flea, 216.

Water-shrew, 102.

Wheat, crops of, method of
saving, 26.

Wheatear, the, 154.

Whirly pits, what, 252*

Willow tree, 269.

Winds and weather, old tokens
of, 174. 180— saline winds a
supposed cause of blight,
254.

Winter, the season of, depicted
270.

Woodlark, the, 184.

Woodlouse, 214.

Worm, the hair, 226 — -the com-
mon, 231.

Wren, the willow, 110 — the
golden-crested, 118. 122— the
common, instance of its
stratagem to preserve its nest,
163,

Wryneck, the, 137.

280

Wych elm. See Elm.

INDEX.

Year 1825* singular increase of
sex in the, 102, note-other
peculiarities of, 259,

Yellow -weed, name given to
dyers’ weed, 72 — yellow
the prevailing color of the
flowers of plants in spring,
73 — and in autumn, 74.

THE END.

STEREOTYPE!’ BY J HOWE.

Philadelphia , June3 1831.

Just Published , by Carey Sp Lea ,

And sold in Philadelphia by E. L. Carey $ A. Hart ; in New-York
by G. C . <Sr XL Carvill ; in Boston by Carter <y Hendee— in Charleston
by W. IX. Berrett — in New-Orleans by W. M’Aean ; by the principa.
booksellers throughout the Union,

AND IN LONDON, BY JOHN MILLER, ST. JAMES’S STREET.

; VOLUME. 6.

j CONTAINING ABOUT 1,500 ARTICLES,

| {To he continued at intervals of three months ,)

OF THE

| ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA:

j' . ■ A

POPULAR DICTIONARY

OF

ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE, HISTORY, AND POLITICS;

BROUGHT DOWN TO THIS PRESENT TIME AND INCLUDING A COPIOUS
COLLECTION OF ORIGINAL ARTICLES IN

AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY:

On the basis of the Seventh Edition of the German

CONVERSATIONS-LEXICON.

i —

Edited by Dr. FRANCIS LIEBER,

Assisted by EDWARD WIGGLESWORTH, Esq.

! To he completed in twelve large Volumes, octavo, price to subscribers, bound
in cloth, two dollars and a half each .

EACH VOLUME WILL CONTAIN BETWEEN 600 AND 700 PAGES.

1 1 ;

I

The Conversation Lexicon, of which the seventh edition in
j twelve volumes has lately been published in Germany, origin-
| ated about fifteen years since. It was intended to supply a want
j occasioned by the character of the age, in which the sciences,
arts, trades, and the various forms of knowledge and of active
life, had become so much extended and diversified, that no in
dividual engaged in business could become well acquainted
with all subjects of general interest; while the wide diffusion
of information rendered such knowledge essential to the charac-
ter of an accomplished man. This want, no existing works
were adequate to supply. Books treating of particular branch-
es, such as gazetteers, &c. were too confined in character,
while voluminous Encyclopaedias were too learned, scientific.

ENCYCLOPEDIA AMERICANA.

2

and cumbrous, being usually elaborate treatises, requiring much
study or previous acquaintance with the subject discussed. The
conductors of the Conversation Lexicon endeavored to select
from every branch of knowledge what was necessary to a well-
informed mind, and to give popular views of the more abstruse
branches of learning and science ; that their readers might not
be incommoded, and deprived of pleasure or improvement, by
ignorance of facts or expressions used in books or conversation.
Such a work must obviously be of great utility to every class of
readers. It has been found so much so in Germany, that it
is met with everywhere, among the learned, the lawyers, the
military, artists, merchants, mechanics, and men of all stations.
The reader may judge how well it is adapted to its object,
from the circumstance, that though it now consists of twelve
volumes, seven editions, comprising about one hundred thou-
sand copies, have been printed in less than fifteen years. It
has been translated into the Swedish, Danish and Dutch lan-
guages, and a French translation is now preparing in Paris.

A great advantage of this work is its liberal and impartial
character ; and there can be no doubt that a book like the En-
cyclopedia Americana will be found peculiarly useful in this
country, where the wide diffusion of the blessings of education,
and the constant intercourse of all classes, create a great de-
mand for general information.

In the preparation of the work thus far, the Editors have
been aided by many gentlemen of distinguished ability ; and for
the continuation, no efforts shall be spared to secure the aid of
all who can, in any way, contribute to render it worthy of
patronage.

The American Biography, which is very extensive, will be
furnished by Mr. Walsh, who has long paid particular atten-
tion to that branch of our literature, and from materials in the
collection of which he has been engaged for some years. For
obvious reasons, the notices of distinguished Americans will be
confined to deceased individuals : the European biography con-
tains notices of all distinguished living characters, as well as
those of past times.

The articles on Zoology have been written expressly for the
present edition by Dr. John D. God man ; those on Chemistry
and Mineralogy, by a gentleman deeply versed in those de-
partments of science.

In relation to the Fine Arts, the work will be exceedingly
rich. Great attention was given to this in the German work,
and the Editors have been anxious to render it, by the necessary
additions, as perfect as possible.

To gentlemen of the Bar, the work will be peculiarly valua-
ble, as in cases where legal subjects are treated, an account is

ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA. 3

given of the provisions of American, English, French, Prussian*
Austrian, and Civil Law.

The Publishers believe it will be admitted, that this work is
one of the cheapest ever published in this country. They have
been desirous to render it worthy of a place in the best libraries*
while at the same time they have fixed the price so low m t©
put it within the reach of all who read.

Those who can, by any honest modes of economy, reserve the sum of two
dollars and fifty cents quarterly, from their family expenses, may pay fot tbte
work as fast as it is published ; and we confidently believe that they will fha f.
at the end that they never purchased so much general, practical, useful iEfor-
mation at so cheap a rate. — Journal of Education.

If the encouragement to the publishers should correspond with the testimony
in favor of their enterprise, and the beautiful and faithful style of its execu-
tion, the hazard of the undertaking, bold as it was, will be well compensated ;
and our libraries will be enriched by the most generally useful encyclopedia
dictionary that has been offered to the readers of the English language. Ful
enough for the general scholar, and plain enough for every capacity, it is fat
more convenient, in every view and form, than its more expensive and ponder
ous predecessors — American Farmer.

The high reputation of the contributors to this work, will not fail to insure
it a favorable reception, and its own merits will do the rest.— Silliman’s Journ.

The work will be a valuable possession to every family or individual tha‘
can afford to purchase it ; and we take pleasure, therefore, in extending tha
knowledge of its merits. — National Intelligencer.

The Encyclopaedia Americana is a prodigious improvement upon all thalr
has gone before it ; a thing for our country, as well as the country that gave
it birth, to be proud of; an inexhaustible treasury of useful, pleasant and fa
miliar learning on every possible subject, so arranged as to be speedily anl
safely referred to on emergency, as well as on deliberate inquiry ; and better
still, adapted to th'j understanding, and put within the reach of the multitude
* * * ■ The Encyclopaedia Americana is a work without which no library
worthy of the name can hereafter be made up. — Yankee.

The copious information which, if a just idea of the whole may be formed
from the first volume, this work affords on American subjects, fully justifies
its title of an American Dictionary ; while at the same time the Extent, varie-
ty, and felicitous disposition of its topics, make it the most convenient and
satisfactory Encyclopaedia that we have ever seen. — National Journal.

If the succeeding volumes shall equal in merit the one before us, we may
confidently anticipate for the work a reputation and usefulness which ought
to secure for it the most flattering encouragement and patronage.— Federal
Gazette.

The variety of topics is of course vast, and they are treated in a manner
which is at once so full of information and so interesting, that the work, in-
stead of being merely referred to, might be regularly perused with as much
pleasure as profit. — Baltimore American.

We view it as a publication worthy of the age and of the country, and can-
not but believe the discrimination of our countrymen will sustain the publish-
ers, and well reward them for this contribution to American Literature. —
Baltimore Patriot.

We cannot doubt that the succeeding volumes will equal the first, and we
hence warmly recommend the work to the patronage of the public, as being by
far the best work of the kind ever offered for sale in this country.— U. 8. Gaz .

It reflects the greatest credit on those who have been concerned in its pro-
duction, and promises, in a variety of respects, to be the best as well as the
most compendious dictionary of the arts, sciences, history, politics, biography,
&c. which has yet been compiled. The style of the portion we have read
is terse and perspicuous ; and it is really curious how so much scientific and
other information could have been so satisfactorily communicated in such brief
limits. — N. Y. Evening Post.

A compendious library, and invaluable book of reference.— JV*. Y. American

4 ENCYCLOPEDIA AMERICANA.

This cannot but prove a valuable addition to the literature of the ag e.^Mer

Advertiser.

The appearance of the first volume of this valuable work in this country, is
an event not less creditable to its enterprising publishers, than it is likely to
prove lastingly beneficial to the public. When completed, according to the
model presented by the first volume, it will deserve to be regarded as the spirit
of all the best Encyclopedias, since it comprises whatever is really desirable
and necessary in them, and in addition, a large proportion of articles entirely
original, or expressly written for its pages. "This is the condition of all the
articles of American Biography, by Mr. Walsh ; those on Zoology, by Dr. God-
man ; and those on Mineralogy and Chemistry, by a gentleman of Boston,
distinguished for his successful devotion to those studies. The work abounds
witli interesting and useful matter, presented in a condensed and perspicuous
style ; nor is it one of its least commendations that it is to be comprised in
twelve octavo volumes, which may be placed on an office table, or occupy a
shelf in the parlor, ever ready for immediate reference, instead of requiring
almost a room to itself, like its ponderous predecessors, the Britannica, Edin-
burgensis, &c. /

The vast circulation this work has had in Europe, where it has already been
reprinted in four or five languages, not to speak of the numerous German edi-
tions, of which seven have been published, speaks loudly in favor of its in-
trinsic merit, without which such a celebrity could never have been attained.
To every man engaged in public business, wlio needs a correct and ample book
of reference on various topics of science and letters, the Encyclopaedia Ameri-
cana will be almost invaluable. To individuals obliged to" go to situations
where books are neither numerous nor easily procured, the rich contents of
these twelve volumes will prove a mine which will amply repay its purchaser,
and be with difficulty exhausted, and we recommend it to their patronage in
the full conviction of its worth. Indeed it is difficult to say to what class of
readers such a book would not prove useful, nay, almost indispensable, since
it combines a great amount of valuable matter in small compass, and at mode-
rate expense, and is in every respect well suited to augment the reader’s stock
of ideas, and powers of conversation, without severely "taxing time or fatiguing
attention. These, at least, are our conclusions after a close and candid ex-
amination of the first volume. — dm. Daily Advertiser.

We have seen and carefully examined the first volume of the Encyclopedia
Americana, just published by Carey, Lea and Carey, and think our readers may
be congratulated upon the opportunity of making such a valuable accession to
their libraries. — Aurora.

The department of American Biography, a subject of which it should be
disgraceful to be ignorant, to the degree that many are, is, in this work, a
prominent feature, and has received the attention of one of the most indefati-
gable writers in this department of literature, which the present age can fur-
nish.— Boston Courier.

According to the plan of Dr. Lieber, a desideratum will be supplied ; the sub-
stance of contemporary knowledge will be brought within a small compass ; —
and the character and uses of a manual will be imparted to a kind of publica-
tion heretofore reserved, on strong shelves, for occasional reference. By those
who understand the German language, the Conversation Lexicon is consulted
ten times for one application to any English Encyclopfedia. — National Gaz .

The volume now published is not only highly honorable to the taste, ability
and industry of its editors and publishers, but furnishes a proud sample of the
accuracy and elegance, with which the most elaborate and important literary
enterprises may now be accomplished in our country. Of the manner in which
the editors have thus far completed their task, it is impossible, in the course of
a brief newspaper article, to speak with adequate justice.— Boston Bulletin.

We have looked at the contents, generally, of the second volume of this
work, and think it merits the encomiums which have, been bestowed on it in
the northern papers. It continues to be particularly rich in the departments
of Biography and Natural History. When we look at the large mass of mis-
cellaneous knowledge spread before the reader, in a form which has never been
equalled for its condensation, and conveyed in a style that cannot be surpassed
for propriety and perspicuity, we cannot but think that the American Ency-
clopaedia deserves a place f si every collection, in which works of reference form
a portion.”— Southern Patriot.

CAMEY & LEA

HAVE RECENTLY PUBLISHED THE FOLLOWING

VALUABLE WORKS.

I. PRIVATE MEMOIRS of NAPOLEON BO

NAPARTE, from the French of M. Fauvelet de Bourrienne,
Private Secretary to the Emperor. In 2 vols. 8vo.

The peculiar advantages of position in regard to his present subject, solely
enjoyed by M. de Bourrienne, his literary accomplishments and moral qualifica-
tions, have already obtained for these memoirs the first rank in contemporary
and authentic history. In France, where they had been for years expected with
anxiety, and where, since the revolution, no work connected with that period or
its consequent events has created so great a sensation, the volumes of Bourrienne
have, from the first, been accepted as the only trustworthy exhibition of the
private life and political principles of Napoleon.

“ We know from the best political authority now living in England, that the
writer’s accounts are perfectly corroborated by facts.” — Lit. Gaz .

II. ANNALS of the PENINSULAR CAM-
PAIGNS. By the Author of Cyril Thornton. In 3 vols.
12mo. with plates.

III. REPORTS on LOCOMOTIVE and FIXED

ENGINES. By J. Stephenson and J. Walker, Civil Engi-
neers. With an Account of the Liverpool and Manchester
Rail Road, by H. Booth. In 8vo. with plates.

IV. NOTES on ITALY, during the years 1829-30.

By Rembrandt Peale. In 1 vol. 8vo.

“ This artist will gratify all reasonable expectation ; he is neither ostentatious,
nor dogmatical, nor too minute; he is not a partisan nor a carper ; he admires
without servility, he criticises without malevolence ; his frankness and good
humour give an agreeable colour and effect to all his decisions, and the object of
them ; his book leaves a useful general idea of the names, works, and deserts of
the great masters ; it is an instructive and entertainiug index.”— Not. Gaz .

“We have made a copious extract in preceding columns, from this interesting
work of our countryman, Rembrandt Peale, recently published. It has received
high commendation from respectable sources, which is justified by the portions
we have seen extracted.”— Commercial Advertiser .

V. COUNT ROBERT of PARIS, a Romance of

the Lower Empire. By the Author of Wayerley. In 2 vols.
1 2 m o . JYea rly ready.

VI. FRAGMENTS of VOYAGES and TRA-
VELS, including ANECDOTES of NAVAL LIFE ; intended
chiefly for the use of Young Persons. By Basil Hall, Capt,
R. N. In 2 vols. royal 18mo. Nearly ready.

“ His volumes consist of a melange of autobiography, naval anecdotes, and
sketches, of a somewhat discursive nature, which we have felt much pleaure in
perusing.”

“The title page to these volumes indicates their being chiefly intended for
young persons, but we are much mistaken if the race of gray beards will be
among the least numerous of the readers of 6 midshipmen’s pranks and the hu-
mours of the green room.’ To us the following is irresistible.”— Lit. Gaz,

2 Valuable Works

VII. SONGS of the AFFECTIONS. By Mrs.

Hemans. Royal 18mo.

VIII. DESTINY, or the CHIEF’S DAUGHTER.

By the Author of 45 Marriage5’ and “The Inheritance.” In 2
vols. 12mo.

66 She unites the perfect purity and moral elevation of mind visible in all
Miss Baillie’s delightful works, with much of the same caustic vigour of satire
that has made Miss Edgeworth’s pen almost as fearful as fascinating ’’—Black-
wood's Magazine.

“ There remains behind, not only a large harvest, but labourers capable of
gathering it in. More than one writer has of late displayed talents of this de-
scription ; and if the present author, himself a phantom, may be permitted to
distinguish a brother, or perhaps a sister shadow, he would mention, in particular,
the author of the very lively work entitled 4 Marriage.’ Conclusion of“ Tales

of My Landlord."*

' IX. VOYAGES and ADVENTURES of the

COMPANIONS of COLUMBUS. By Washington Irving,
Author of the Life of Columbus, &c. 1 vol. 8vo.

“ Of the main work, we may repeat that it possesses the value of impor-
tant history, and the magnetism of romantic adventure. It sustains in every
respect the reputation of Irving.” “We may hope that the gifted author will
treat in like manner the enterprises and exploits of Pizarro and Cortes; and
thus complete a series of elegant recitals, which will contribute to the especial
gratification of Americans, and form an imperishable fund of delightful instruc-
tion for all ages and countries.”— Nat. Gaz.

*4 As he leads us from one savage tribe to another, as he paints successive scenes
of heroism, perseverance, and self-denial, as he wanders among the magnificent
scenes of nature, as he* relates with scrupulous fidelity the errors, and the crimes,
even of those whose lives are for the most part marked with traits to command
admiration, and perhaps esteem— every where we find him the same undeviat-
ing, but beautiful moralist, gathering from every incident some lesson to pre-
sent in striking language to the reason and the heart. Where his story leads him
to some individual, or presents some incident which raises our smiles, it is re-
corded with that naive humour, which is the more effective from its simplicity;
where he finds himself called on to tell some tale of misfortune or wo— and how
often must he do so when the history of the gentle and peaceful natives of the
Antilles are his subject — the reader is at a loss whether most to admire the beauty
of the picture he paints, or the deep pathos which he imperceptibly excites.”—
American Quarterly Rcvicxv.

X. A CHRONICLE of the CONQUEST of

GRENADA. By Washington Irving, Esq. in 2 vols.

“ On the whole, this work will sustain the high fame of Washington Irving.
It fills a blank in the historical library which ought not to have remained so
long a blank. The language throughout is at once chaste and animated; and
the narrative may be said, like Spenser’s Fairy Queen, to present one long gal-
lery of splendid pictures. Indeed, we know no pages from which the artist is
more likely to derive inspiration, nor perhaps are there many incidents in lite-
rary history more surprising than that this antique and chivalrous story should
have been for the first time told worthily by the pen of an American and a re-
publican.”— London Literary Gazette.

New Editions of the following works by the same Au-
thor.

THE SKETCH BOOK, 2 vols. 12mo.

KNICKERBOCKER’S HISTORY of NEW YORK, 2 vols.
BRACEBRIDGE HALL, 2 vols. 12mo.

TALES of a TRAVELLER, 2 vols. 12mo.

XI. A TREATISE on the CULTURE of the

SUGAR CANE, with Practical Directions for the MANU-

Published by Carey fy Lea. 3

FACTURE of its PRODUCTS. By G. R. Pohteb, Esq. In
8vo. with plates,

XII. CABINET OF HISTORY.

Vols. 1, 2. HISTORY of SCOTLAND. By Sir Waltek Scott.

3. HISTORY of ENGLAND. By Sir James Mack-

XNTOSH. Vol. 1.

4. OUTLINES of HISTORY.

5. HISTORY of the NETHERLANDS. By J. C.

Grattan.

6, 7. HISTORY of FRANCE. By Eyre Evans Crowe.

2 vols. Nearly ready .

8. HISTORY of ENGLAND. By Sir James Mack-
intosh, Vol. 2. Nearly ready.

XIII. CABINET LIBRARY.

Vol. 1. The MARQUIS of LONDONDERRY’S NARRATIVE
of the LATE WAR in GERMANY and FRANCE.
(i No history of the events to which it relates can be correct without reference
to its statements.”— Literary Gazette .

66 The events detailed in this volume cannot fail to excite an intense interest.”
— Dublin Literary Gazette .

4t The only connected and well-authenticated account we have of the spirit-
stirring scenes which preceded the fall of Napoleon. It introduces us into the
cabinets and presence of the allied monarchs. We observe the secret policy of
each individual : we see the course pursued by the wily Bernadette, the tempo-
rizing Mettemich, and the ambitious Alexander. The work deserves a place in
every historical library.”— Globe*

2. JOURNAL of a NATURALIST. Nearly ready .

- — — Plants, trees, and stones, we note *

Birds, insects, beasts, and rural things.

u We again most strongly recommend this little unpretending volume to the
attention of every lover of nature, and more particularly of our country readers.
It will induce them, we are sure, to examine more closely than they have been
accustomed to do, into the objects of animated nature, and such examination
will prove one of the most innocent and the most satisfactory sources of gratifi-
cation and amusement. It is a book that ought to find its way into every rural
drawing-room in the kingdom, and one that may safely be placed in every lady’s
boudoir, be her rank and station in life what they may ."—Quarterly Review .
No. LXXVIII.

te \ye think there are few readers who will not be delighted (we are certain all
will be instructed) by the i Journal of a Naturalist.’ ” — Monthly Review .

u This is a most delightful book on the most delightful of all studies. We are
acquainted with no previous work which bears any resemblance to this, except
6 White’s History of Selborne,5 the most fascinating piece of rural writing and
sound English philosophy that ever issued from the press.”— Athenaeum.

*e The author of the charming yolume before us has produced one of the most .
interesting volumes we remember to have seen fora long time.”— New Monthly
Mag . June, 1829.

3. MILITARY MEMOIRS of the DUKE of WELLING-

TON. By Captain Moyle Shehek. Nearly ready.

XIV. A DISCOURSE on the REVOLUTIONS

of the SURFACE of the GLOBE and the Changes thereby pro-
duced in the ANIMAL KINGDOM. By Baron G Cuvier.
Translated from the French* with Illustrations and a Glossary.
In l2mo, with plates.

4

Valuable Works

XV. OUTLINES of HISTORY, from the Earliest

Records to the Present Time. Prepared for the Use of
Schools, with Questions, by John Frost, A. M.

a W e have glanced over, with much satisfaction, the second American edition
of a work entitled, 6 Outlines of History; embracing a concise history of the
World, from the earliest period to the pacification of Europe in 1815,’ which is
just published by Messrs. Carey & Lea. This edition contains some important
additions, and a set of questions for examination of students — arranged by John
Frost, A. M. The main object of the work is, by giving a selection of interest-
ing and striking facts from more elaborate histories, properly and carefully ar-
ranged with chronological tables, to render the study of general history less dry
and repulsive than it has been heretofore. This, we think is fully accomplished.
Very great care appears to have been bestowed on the selections, and in arrang-
ing the chronological tables, as well as in the classification of the historical mat-
ter into parts and chapters. The work will sufficiently recommend itself to all
who examine it.” — Sat. Eve. Post.

XVI. ATLAS of ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY,

consisting of 21 Coloured Maps, with a Complete Accentuated
Index. By Samuel Butler, D. D., F. li. S. &c. Archdeacon of
Derby.

By the same Author .

XVII. GEOGRAPHIA CLASSIC A: a Sketch of

Ancient Geography, for the Use of Schools. In 8vo. Nearly

ready .

XVIII. ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA; a

Popular Dictionary of Arts, Sciences, Literature, History, and
Politics : brought down to the Present Time, and including a
Copious Collection of Articles in American Biography. On
the basis of the Seventh Edition of the German Conversations
Lexicon. Edited by Dr. Francis Leiber, assisted by Edward

WlGGLESWORTII, Esq.

*** This work will be completed in twelve large octavo volumes, price two
dollars and a half each, strongly bound in cloth. Five volumes are already pub-
lished, and the sixth is nearly ready.

XIX. The WATER WITCH, or the SKIMMER

of the SEAS. By the Author of the Pilot, Red Rover, &c.
In 2 vols.

44 We have no hesitation in classing this among the most powerful of the ro-
in.anc.es of our countryman.”— Z7. States Gazette .

44 We could not break from the volumes, and may predict that they will excite
the same interest in the minds of almost every reader. The concluding chapters
produce intense emotion National Gazette .

New Editions of the following

Author .

Works by the same

NOTIONS of the AMERICANS, by a Travelling Bachelor,
2 vols. 12mo.

The WISH-TON-WISH, in 2 vols, 12mo;

The RED ROYER, 2 vols. 12mo.

The SPY, 2 vols. 12mo.

The PIONEERS, 2 vols. 12mo.

The PILOT, a Tale of the Sea, 2 vols. 12moa

Published by Carey fy Lea . 5

LIONEL LINCOLN, or the LEAGUER of BOSTON, 2 vols.
The LAST of the MOHICANS, 2 vols. 12mo.

The PRAIRIE, 2 vols. 12mo.

XX. JOURNAL of the HEART, edited by the

Authoress of Flirtation.

a This is a most charming and feminine volume, one delightful for a woman
to read, and for a woman to have written.”— Literary Gazette,

XXL The ARMENIANS, a Tale of Constantino-

ple. By ,T. Macfarlane. In 2 vols.

66 The author will appreciate our respect for his (talents,, when we say that he
has done more than any other man to complete the picture of the East, dashed
off by the bold pencil of the author of Anastasius.” — Edin, Lit. Journ „

XXII. TALES of a GRANDFATHER, being a

Series from French History. By the Author of Wayerley.

XXIIL CONSIDERATIONS on the CURRENCY

and BANKING SYSTEM of the UNITED STATES. By
Albert Gallatin. Republished, with additions and correc-
tions, from the American Quarterly Review.

XXIY. The YOUNG LADIES’ ROOK, a Manual

of Instructive Exercises, Recreations, and Pursuits. With
numerous plates.

XXV. ATLANTIC SOUVENIR,

FOB 1831.

Embellishments.— 1. Frontispiece. The Shipwrecked Family, engraved by
Ellis, from a picture by Burnet.— 2. Shipwreck off Fort Rouge, Calais, engrav-
ed by Ellis, from a picture by Stanfield.— 3. Infancy, engraved by Kelly, from
a picture by Sir Thomas Lawrence.— 4. Lady Jane Grey, engraved by Kelly,
from a picture by Leslie.— 5. Three Score and Ten, engraved by Kearny, from
a picture by Burnet, -6. The Hour of Rest, engraved by Kelly, from a picture
by Burnet.— 7. The Minstrel, engraved by Ellis, from a picture by Leslie.— 8.
Arcadia, engraved by Kearny, from a picture by CockeielL—9. The Fisherman’s
Return, engraved by Neagle, from a picture by Collins.-™ 10. The Marchioness
of Carmarthen, granddaughter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, engraved by 111
man and Pillbrow, from a picture by Mbs. Mee*— *11. Morning amoagthe Hills,
engraved by Hatch, from a picture by Doughty*— 12. Los Musicos, engraved bv
Ellis, from a picture by Watteau.

A few copies of the ATLANTIC SOUVENIR, for 1829 and
1830, are still for sale.

XXYI. The POETIC AL WORKS of CAMPBELL?

ROGERS, MONTGOMERY, LAMBE, and KIRKE WHITE,
beautifully printed, 1 vol. 8vo. to match Byron, Scott, Moore,
&c. With Portraits of the Authors.

XXVII. The CHEMISTRY of the ARTS, on the

Basis of Gray’s Operative Chemist, being' an Exhibition of the
Arts and Manufactures dependent on Chemical Principles,
with numerous Engravings, by Arthur L. Porter, M. D. late
Professor of Chemistry, &c. in the University of Vermont, In
Svo. With numerous plates.

The popular and valuable English work of Mr. Gray, which forms the ground-
work of the present volume, was published in London in 1829, and designed to
exhibit a Systematic and Practical view of the numerous Arts and Manufactures
which involve the application of Chemical Science, The author himself, a

1*

6

Valuable Works

skilful, manufacturing, as well as an able, scientific chemist, enjoying the ffiub
tiplied advantages afforded by the metropolis of the greatest manufacturing na-
tion on earth, was eminently qualified for so arduous an undertaking, and the
popularity of the work in England, as well as its intrinsic merits attest the
fidelity and success with which it has been executed. In the work now offered
to the American public, the practical character of the Operative Chemist has
been preserved, and much extended by the addition of a great variety of origi-
nal matter, by numerous corrections of the original text, and the adaptation
of the whole to the state and wants of the Arts and Manufactures of the United
States; among the most considerable additions will be found full and extended
treatises on the Bleaching of Cotton and Linen, on the various branches of Ca-
lico Printing, on the Manufacture of the Chloride of Lime, or Bleaching Pow-
der, and numerous Staple Articles used in the Arts of Dying, Calico Printing,
and various other processes of Manufacture, such as the Salts of Tin, Lead,
Manganese, and Antimony; the most recent Improvements on the Manufacture
of the Muriatic, Nitric, and Sulphuric Acids, the Chromates of Potash, the
latest information on the Comparative Value of Different Varieties of Fuel, on the
Construction of Stoves, Fire-places, and Stoving Rooms, on the Ventilation of
Apartments, &c. &e. To make room for the additional practical matter, and
not to enhance the price of the work to the American reader, between two and
three hundred pages of the theoretical or doctrinal part of the original work
have been omitted; indeed, most of the articles on the theory of chemistry, such
as Electricity, Galvanism, Light, &e. which have little or no immediate ap»

Slication to the arts, and which the chemical student will find more fully
iscussed in almost every elementary work on the science, have been either
wholly omitted or abridged. Many obsolete processes in the practical part of
the work, used in some instances, the description of arts not practised, ana from
their nature not likely to be practised in the United States, have also been
omitted; in short, the leading object has been to improve and extend the prac-
tical character of the Operative Chemist, and to supply, as the publishers flatter
themselves, a deficiency which is felt by every artist and manufacturer, whose
processes involve the principles of chemical science, the want of a Systematic
Work which should embody the most recent improvements in the chemical
arts and manufactures, whether derived from the researches of scientific men,
or the experiments and observations of the operative manufacturer and arti-
zans themselves.

lllcIlloclVtS*

XXVIII. ARNOTT’S ELEMENTS of PHYSICS.

Vol. IT. Part I. containing’ Light and Heat.

“ Dr. Arnott’s previous volume has been so well received, that it has almost
banished all the flimsy productions called popular, which falsely pretend to strip
science of its mysterious and repulsive aspect, and to exhibit a holyday apparel.
The success of such a work shows most clearly that it is plain, but sound know-
ledge which the public want.”— Monthly Review.

c which uic puuuc warn. — x\iunuuu jxcviczu.

XXIX. ELEMENTS of PHYSICS, or NATU-

RAL PHILOSOPHY, GENERAL and MEDICAL, explained
independently of TECHNICAL MATHEMATICS, and con-
taining New Disquisitions and Practical Suggestions. By
Neill Arnott, M. D. First American from the third London
edition, with additions, by Isaac Hays, M. D.

XXX. MORALS of PLEASURE, illustrated by

Stories designed for Young Persons, in 1 vol. l2mo.

“ The style of the stories is no less remarkable for its ease and gracefulness,
than for the delicacy of its humour, and its beautiful and at times affecting sim-
plicity. A lady must have written it— for it is from the bosom of woman alone,
that such tenderness of feeling and such delicacy of sentiment— such sweet les-
sons of morality— such deep and pure streams of virtue and piety, gush forth to
cleanse the juvenile mind from the grosser impurities of our nature, and prepare
the young for lives of usefulness here, and happiness hereafter. We advise pa-
rents of young families to procure this little book— assuring them that it will
have a tendency to render their offspring as sweet as innocent, as innocent as

7

Published by Carey §• Lea.

ray, as gay as happy* It is dedicated by the author * to her young Bedford
friends, Anna and Maria Jay’— but who this fair author is, we cannot even guess.
We would advise some sensible educated bachelor to find out.”— N. F. Com. Adv .

XXXI. SKETCHES of CHINA, with Illustrations

from Original Drawings. By W. W. Wood. In 1 vol, 12mo.

66 The residence of the author in China, during the years 1826-7-8 and 9, has
enabled him to collect much very curious information relative to this singular
people, which he has embodied in his work; and will serve to gratify the curi-
osity of many whose time or dispositions do not allow them to seek, in the volu-
minous writings of the Jesuits and early travellers, the information contained
in the present work. The recent discussion relative to the renewal of the East
India Company’s Charter, has excited much interest; and among ourselves, the
desire to be further acquainted with the subjects of 6 the Celestial Empire’ has
been considerably augmented.”

XXXII. CLARENCE; a Tale of our own Times. By

the Author of Redwood, Hope Leslie, &c. In two volumes.

XXXIII. FALKLAND, a Novel, by the Author of

Pelham, &c. 1 vol. 12mo.

XXXIV. A COLLECTION of COLLOQUIAL

PHRASES on every Topic necessary to maintain Conversation,
arranged under different heads, with numerous remarks on
the peculiar pronunciation and use of various words— -the
whole so disposed as considerably to facilitate the acquisition
of a correct pronunciation of the French. By A. Bolmar. One
vol. 18mo.

XXXV. A SELECTION of ONE HUNDRED

PERRIN’S FABLES, accompanied by a Key, containing the
text, a literal and free translation, arranged in such a manner
as to point out the difference between the French and the
English idiom, also a figured pronunciation of the French, ac-
cording to the best French works extant on the subject; the
whole preceded by a short treatise on the sounds of the French
language, compared with those of the English.

XXXVI. NEUMAN’S SPANISH and ENGLISH

DICTIONARY, New Edition.

XXXVII. A TOUR in AMERICA, by Basil Hall,
Captain R. N. in 2 vols. 12mo.

XXXVIII. AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY, or NA-
TURAL HISTORY of BIRDS inhabiting the UNITED
STATES, by Charles Lucian Bonaparte; designed as a con-
tinuation of Wilson’s Ornithology, vols. L, II. and III.

*** Gentlemen who possess Wilson, and are desirous of ren-
dering the work complete, are informed that the edition of
this work is very small, and that but a very limited number of
copies remain unsold. Vol. IV. in the press.

XXXIX. The AMERICAN QUARTERLY RE-
VIEW, No. XVII. Contents — France, by Lady Morgan— -En-
nui—Dobell’s Travels in China and Siberia— Physical Geo-
graph—Autobiography of Thieves— Tobacco— Irving’s Spa-

s

Valuable Works in Medicine , fyc.

nish Voyages of Discovery— Martin’s History of Louisiana—
Halsted on Dyspepsia— Bank of United States.— Terms, Jive
dollars per annum.

XL. EVANS’S MILLWRIGHT’S and MIL-
LERS’ GUIDE, new edition, with additions. By Dr. Thomas
P. Jones. In 8vo. with plates.

XLI. HISTORICAL, GEOGRAPHICAL, and

STATISTICAL AMERICAN ATLAS. Folio.

XLII. Major LONG’S EXPEDITION to the

SOURCES of the MISSISSIPPI, 2 vols. 8vo.

XLIII. The HISTORY of LOUISIANA, particu-
larly of the Cession of that Colony to the United States of
North America; with an Introductory Essay on the Constitu-
tion and Government of the United States, by M. he Marbois,
Peer of France, translated from the French by an American
citizen. In 1 vol. 8vo.

VALUABLE WORKS

IN

MEDICINE, SURGERY, AND CHEMISTRY.

I. LECTURES on INFLAMMATION, exhibit-

mg a view of the General Doctrines, Pathological and Practi-
cal, of Medical Surgery. By John Thompson, M. D., F. R. S. E.
Second American edition.

II. BROUSSAIS on CHRONIC INFLAMMA-
TIONS. Translated from the French, in 2 vols. 8vo. Nearly
ready.

By the same Author ,

III. A TREATISE on PHYSIOLOGY, applied to

PATHOLOGY. Translated by John Bell, M. D. and R. La
Roche, M. D, Second edition, with additions.

IV. EXAMINATION of MEDICAL DOC-
TRINES and SYSTEMS of NOSOLOGY, preceded by propo-
sitions containing the substance of Physiological Medicine.
From the third edition. Translated by Isaac Hays, M. D. and
R. E. Griffith, M. D. In 2 vols. 8vo. In the press.

V. CHEMICAL MANIPULATION. Instruction

to Students on the Methods of Performing Experiments of
Demonstration or Research, with accuracy and success. By
Michael Faraday, F. R. S. First American from the second
London edition, with additions by J. K. Mitchell, M, D.

VI. SURGICAL MEMOIRS of the RUSSIAN

Published by Carey fy Lea. 9

CAMPAIGN. Translated from the French of Baron Larrey.

Nearly ready.

VII. CLINICAL ILLUSTRATIONS of FEVER,

comprising a Report of Cases treated at the London Fever
Hospital, 1828-29. By Alexander Tweedie, M. D. Member
of the Royal College of Physicians, &c. &c. 8vo.

VIII. PARSONS on ANATOMICAL PREP A-

RATIONS, in 8vo. with plates. Nearly ready.

IX. THE PRACTICE of MEDICINE, upon the

Principles of the Physiological Doctrine, by J. G. Coster, M. D.
Translated from the French.

X. COLLES’S SURGICAL ANATOMY. Se-
cond American edition.

XL PATHOLOGICAL and PRACTICAL RE-
SEARCHES on DISEASES of the BRAIN and SPINAL
CORD. By John Abercrombie, M. D.

“ We have here a work of authority, and one which does credit to the author
and his country.”— North Amer . Med. and Surg. Journ.

By the same Author,

XII. PATHOLOGICAL and PRACTICAL RE-
SEARCHES on DISEASES of the STOMACH, the INTES-
TINAL CANAL, the LIVER, and other VISCERA of the
ABDOMEN.

6i We have now closed a very long review of a very valuable work, and, al-
though we have endeavoured to condense into our pages a great mass of impor-
tant matter, we feel that our author has not yet received justice.”— Medico- Chi-
rurgical Reviexv.

XIII. A RATIONAL EXPOSITION of the PHYSI-
CAL SIGNS of DISEASES of the LUNGS and PLEURA; Il-
lustrating their Pathology and Facilitating their Diagnosis. By
Chahles J. Williams, M. D. In 8vo. with plates.

66 If we are not greatly mistaken, it will lead to a better understanding, and a
more correct estimate of the value of auscultation, than any tiling that has yet
appeared.”— Am. Med. Journ .

XIV. RECLARD’S GENERAL ANATOMY.

Translated by J. Togko, M. D. 8vo.

XV. A TREATISE on FEVER. Bj Southwood

Smith, M. D. Physician to the London Fever Hospital.

44 There is no man in actual practice in this metropolis, who should not possess
himself of Dr. Smith’s work.”— Lond. Med. and Surg. Journ. Feb.

44 With a mind so framed to accurate observation, and logical deduction, Dr.
Smith’s delineations are peculiarly valuable.”— Medico-Chir. Rev. March.

44 No work has been more lauded by the Reviews than the Treatise on Fevers,
by Southwood Smith. Dr. Johnson, the editor of the Medico-Chirurgical Re-
view, says, 4 It is the best we have ever perused on the subject of fever, and in
our conscience, we believe it the best that ever flowed from the pen of physician
in any age or ki any country.’ ” — Am. Med. Journ.

XVI. MEMOIR on the TREATMENT of VENE-
REAL DISEASES WITHOUT MERCURY, employed at the
Military Hospital of the Val-de-Grace. Translated from the
French of H. M. J. Desruelles, M. D, &c. To which is added.

10

Valuable Works in Medicine , fyc.

Observations by G. J. Guthrie, Esq. and various documents,
showing1 the results of this Mode of Treatment, in Great Bri-
tain, France, Germany, and America, 1 vol. 8vo.

XVII. PRINCIPLES of MILITARY SURGERY,

comprising Observations on the Arrangements, Police, and
Practice of Hospitals, and on the History, Treatment, and
Anomalies of Variola and Syphilis; illustrated with cases and
dissections. By John Hennen, M. D., V* R« S. E. Inspector of
Military Hospitals — first American from the third London edi-
tion, with Life of the Author, by his son, Dr. John Hennen.

46 The value of Dr. Hennen’s work is too well appreciated to need any praise
of ours. We were only required then, to bring1 the third edition before the no-
tice of our readers; and having done this, we shall merely add, that the volume
merits a place in every library, and that no military surgeon ought to be without
it Medical Gazette .

“ It is a work of supererogation for us to eulogize Dr. Hennen’s Military Sur-
gery; there can be no second opinion on its merits. It is indispensable to the mi-
litary and naval surgeon.”— London Medical and Surgical Journal.

XVIII. A TREATISE on PATHOLOGICAL

ANATOMY, by William E. Horner, M. D. Adjunct Profes-
sor of Anatomy in the University of Pennsylvania.

“ We can conscientiously commend k to the members of the profession, as a
satisfactory, interesting, and instructive view of the subjects discussed, and
as well adapted to aid them in forming a correct appreciation of the diseased
conditions they are called on to relieve.”— American Journal of the Medical
Sciences , No. 9.

XIX. A New Edition of a TREATISE of SPE-
CIAL and GENERAL ANATOMY, by the same author, 2 vols.
8vo.

XX. A New Edition of a TREATISE on PRAC-

TICAL ANATOMY, by the same author.

XXI. COXE’S AMERICAN DISPENSATORY,

Eighth Edition, Improved and greatly Enlarged. By John
Redman Coxe, M. D. Professor of Materia Medica and Phar-
macy in the University of Pennsylvania. In 1 vol. 8vo.

XXII. An ESSAY on REMITTENT and INTER-
MITTENT DISEASES, including generically Marsh Fever
and Neuralgia — comprising under the former, various anoma-
lies, obscurities, and consequences, and under a new systema-
tic view of the latter, treating of tic douloureux, sciatica,
head-ache, ophthalmia, tooth-ache, palsy, and many other
modes and consequences of this generic disease ; by John
Macculloch, M. D., F. R. S. &c. &c. Physician in Ordinary to
his Royal Highness Prince Leopold, of Saxe Cobourg.

u In rendering Dr. Maeculloeh’s work more accessible to the profession, we
are conscious that we are doing the state some service.”-— Med. Chirf Review .

u We most strongly recommend Dr. Macculloch’s treatise to the attention of
©ur medical brethren, as presenting a most valuable mass of information, on a
most important subject.”— JV. A . Med . and Surg. Journal .

XXIII. CAZENAVE and SCHEDEL, on DIS-

EASES OF THE SKIN. Translated from the French. In 8vo.

XXIV. The PRACTICE of PHYSIC, br W, P

* V

Published by Carey Lea . 1 i

Dewees, M. D. Adjunct Professor of Midwifery in the Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania, 2 vols. 8vo.

“We have no hesitation in recommending it as decidedly one of the best
systems of medicine extant. The tenor of the work in general reflects the high-
est honour on Dr. Dewees’s talents, industry, and capacity, for the execution of
the arduous task which he had undertaken. It is one of the most able and
satisfactory works which modem times have produced, and Will be a standard
authority.”— Lend. Med. and Surg . Journ. Aug . 1830,

XXV. DEWEES on the DISEASES of CHIL-

DREN. Third edition. In 8vo.

The objects of this work are, 1st, to teach those who have the charge of chil-
dren, either as parent or guardian, the most approved methods of securing and
improving their physical powers. This is attempted by pointing out the du-
ties which the parent or the guardian owes for this purpose, to this interesting,
but helpless class of beings, and the manner by which their duties shall be ful-
filled. And 2d, to render available a long experience to these objects of our af-
fections, when they become diseased. In attempting this, the author has avoided
as much as was possible, “technicality;” and has given, if he does not flatter him-
self too much, to each disease of which he treats, its appropriate and designat-
ing characters, with a fidelity that will prevent any two being confounded, to-
gether with the best mode of treating them, that either his own experience or
that of others has suggested.

XXVI. DEWEES on the DISEASES of FE-

MALES. Second edition with additions. In 8vo.

XXVII. DE WEES’S SYSTEM of MIDWIFERY.

Fourth edition, with additions.

XXVIII. CHAPMAN’S THERAPEUTICS and

MATERIA MEDICA. Fifth edition, with additions.

XXIX. The AMERICAN JOURNAL of the ME-
DICAL SCIENCES, No. XV. for May, 1831. Among the
Collaborators of this work are Professors Bigelow, Channing,
Chapman, Coxe, Davidge, De Butts, Dewees, Dickson, Dud-
ley, Francis, Gibson, Godman, Hare, Henderson, Horner, Ho-
sack, Jackson, Macneven* Mott, Mussey, Physick, Potter, Se-
wall, Warren, and Worthington; Drs. Daniell, Emerson, Fearn,
Griffith, Hays, pay ward, Ives, Jackson, King, Moultrie,
Spence, Ware, and Wright.— Terms, jive dollars per annum.

XXX. HUTIN’8 MANUAL of PHYSIO-

I LOGY, in 12mo.

XXXI. MANUAL of MATERIA MEDICA and

PHARMACY. By H. M. Edwards, M. D. and P. Vavasseur,
M. D. comprising a Concise Description of the articles used in
Medicine; their Physical and Chemical Properties; the Bo-
tanical Characters of the Medicinal Plants; the Formulae for the
Principal Officinal Preparations of the American, Parisian,
Dublin, Edinburgh, &c. Pharmacopoeias; with Observations on
the Proper Mode of Combining and Administering Remedies.
Translated from the French, with numerous Additions and
Corrections, and adapted to the Practice of Medicine and to
the Art of Pharmacy in the United States. By Joseph Togno,
M. D. Member of the Philadelphia Medical Society, and E.
Durand, Member of the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy.

J£ Valuable Works in Medicine ,

64 It contains all the pharmaceutical information that the physician can desire.,
and in addition, a larger mass of information, in relation to the properties, &e.
of the different articles and preparations employed in medicine, than any of the
dispensatories, and we think will entirely supersede all these publications in the
library of the physician”— Am* Journ . of the Medical Sciences,

XXXII. All EPITOME of the PHYSIOLOG Y, GE-
NERAL ANATOMY, and PATHOLOGY of BICHAT, by
Thomas Henderson, M. D. Professor of the Theory and Prac-
tice of Medicine in Columbia College, Washington City. 1
vol. 8vo.

44 The epitome of Dr. Henderson ought and must find a place in the library
of every physician desirous ©f useful knowledge for himself, or of being instru-
mental in imparting it to others, whose studies he is expected to superintend.”—.
North American Medical and Surgical Journal, No. 15.

XXXIII. ELLIS’ MEDICAL FORMULARY. The

Medical Formulary, being a collection of prescriptions de-
rived from the writings and practice of many of the most emi-
nent physicians in America and Europe. By Benjamin Ellis,
M. D. 3d edition, with additions.

44 A small and very useful volume has been recently published in this city, en-
titled 4 The Medical Formulary.’ We believe that this volume will meet with a
cordial welcome from the medical public. We would especially recommend it
to our brethren in distant parts of the country, whose insulated situations may
prevent them from having access to the many authorities which have been con-
sulted in arranging materials for this work.” — Phil. Med. and Phys. Jour.

XXXIY. MARTINET’S MANUAL of PATHO-
LOGY, containing the Symptoms, Diagnosis, and Morbid Cha-
racters of Diseases, &c. 2d. ed. 1 vol. 12mo.

XXXV. The ANATOMY, PHYSIOLOGY, and

DISEASES of the TEETH. By Thomas Bell, F. R. S., F. L.

S. &c. In 1 vol. 8vo. with plates.

44 Mr. Bell has evidently endeavoured to constru ct a work of reference for the
practitioner, and a text-book for the student, containing a 4 plain and practical
digest of the information at present possessed on the subject, and results of the
author’s own investigations and experience.’ ” * * * 44 We must now take leave
o t Mr. Bell, whose work we have no doubt will become a class book on the im-
portant subject of dental surger y”—Medico-Chirnrgical Review.

XXXVI. WISTAR’S ANATOMY, fifth edition, 2

vols. 8vo.

XXXVII. GIBSON’S SURGERY. Second edition,

improved and enlarged. In 2 vols. 8vo.

PREPARING FOR PRESS.

A CYCLOPAEDIA of PRACTICAL MEDICINE,

Comprising Treatises on the Nature and Treatment of Dis-
eases, Materia Medica and Therapeutics, Medical Jurispru-
dence, &c. &c. Edited by John Forbes, M. D., F. R. S., Alex-
ander Tweedie, M. D. and John Conolly, M. D.

This work will make five or six large 8vo. volumes, and will
be published at intervals of three months. For the revision and
adaptation of the work to this country, the publishers have ;
engaged the assistance of many of our most distinguished phy- ■
sicians. A detailed prospectus will shortly be published.

LIBRARY OP

ENTERTAINING KNOWLEDGE,

NOW PUBLISHING

BY LILLY k WAIT, ( late Wells k Lilly) BOSTON,

G. & C. & H. Carvill, and E. Bliss, N. York ; Carey & Hart,
Philadelphia ; W. k J. Neal, Baltimore ; Thompson & Ho-
mans, Washington ; W. M. Morrison, Alexandria ; R. D.
Sanxay, Richmond ; W. H. Berrett, Charleston, S. C. ; Mary
Carroll, N. Orleans ; Odiorne k Smith, Mobile; C. D. Brad-
ford k Co. Cincinnati; Little & Cummings, Albany; H.
Howe, New-Haven ; S. Butler k Son, Northampton; Whip-
ple & Lawrence, Salem; Eli French, Dover; Geo. Tiiden,
Keene; and S. Colman, Portland.

ICjP'' The publishers are happy in stating, that this beautiful
work, which proves to be not only the most entertaining, but
one of the most useful mediums of conveying knowledge, con-
tinues to receive as well as to deserve, an extended and daily
increasing encouragement.

The Library of Entertaining Knowledge is pub-

2

lished under the superintendence of the British society for the
diffusion of Useful Knowledge, and reprinted page for page
with the London edition.

Each part contains more than 200 pages, and numerous en-
gravings on wood, beautifully executed. — Price forty cents a
part, and continued on the same terms.

The Edinburgh Review says, — £ The Library of Enter -
taining Knowledge has been instituted, for the purpose of
- turning to some account the reading of that large class, in every
community, who are not averse to all reading, but will consent
only to read what is amusing. So large a portion of important
information may be conveyed in this shape, that the greatest
benefit is to be expected from this Library. It is full of
science, and yet as amusing as a novel. These works are il-
lustrated with a profusion of the most beautiful cuts. It is not
wonderful that the circulation should be extensive; it is said to
be twenty thousand monthly.5

Among the subjects first treated of in the Library of Enter-
taining Knowledge, are the following: —

The Menageries; Quadrupeds described and drawn from
living subjects.

Vegetable Substances; Timber Trees and Fruits.

Anecdotes of Individuals remarkable for the Pursuit of
Knowledge, Franklin, Newton, Hunter, &c.

The New Zealanders, with beautiful Illustrations.

Insect Architecture and Insect Transformations, &c, &c.

To be followed by other subjects of great interest.

The committee of the society (of which Mr Brougham is
chairman) observe, that in this work the main object of the
society — that of conveying useful information — will be steadi-
ly advanced. They would present the most attractive parts of
knowledge in a*n agreeable manner; affording delight as well
as improvement, and a grateful relaxation without dissipating
the mind, or diverting it from more arduous pursuits.

Societies for the diffusion of useful knowledge, schools and
seminaries, supplied on the most favourable terms.

IQ3* Twelve numbers of the American edition are now pub-
lished, and several others which are equally beautiful and in-
teresting, now in press, and will appear in speedy succession.

A SPECIMEN OF THE WORK FOLLOWS.

THE ELEPHANT.

3

4

THE ELEPHANT.

Occasionally the hunter, with his rifle, is mounted
upon an elephant’s back. The presence of the tiger
is generally made known by the elephants, which,
scenting their enemy, become agitated, and make
that peculiar trumpeting which indicates their alarm.
If the tiger move, many of the elephants become un-
governable; their trunks are thrown up into the air;
if they consent to go forward, their cautious steps
evince their apprehensions. Those that remain
steady under such circumstances are considered par-
ticularly valuable. If the motion of an animal
through the jungle is perceived, the nearest elephant
is halted, and the rider fires in the direction of the
waving rushes. The tiger is sometimes wounded by
these random shots; and he then generally bounds
through the cover towards the nearest elephant.
Very few elephants can then resist the impulse of
their fears. If the trunk, which the animal invariably
throws up as far as possible out of reach, should be
scratched by the tiger, all command is lost. Mr
Williamson describes an occurrence of this sort, which
happened to two gentlemen of the Bengal army.

4 They had been in the habit of killing tigers with only
one elephant, on which being mounted, they one day
roused a tiger of a very fierce disposition. The ani-
mal, after doing some mischief among the dogs,
which baited him very courageously, at length darted
at the elephant’s head; and, though foiled in the
attempt to get upon it, nevertheless scratched her
trunk severely. No sooner did she feel the tiger’s
claws penetrating her proboscis, than she turned
round, and set off at full speed, roaring most vehe-
mently. She seemed to have lost her senses, and to
be bent on mischief: for wherever she saw a living
object she pursued it, totally heedless of the mohout’s
endeavours to guide or restrain her.5