wise Mae rE o wees oy . Ts fk al Pies : LADS AAS. I se sy A De Stee eee eae Pom Ste > 2-2 ¢ eS Pre Ps S AFALA veel eae ae 7 is hay -, Pe ad Om ‘ Slot odes Sat NORM, ae, eee Oe ee Oe et Te Ee Ht se ee a= a4, Me eH 2 oe te a ee - ve ’ oe ot Mite Sahota tek R44 dade Bodo ww oe “ate ao tan fiyte ay, e. ‘ A A) « fu 3 vy. sats oa se = = THE NATUR ALe EBES TORY OF SELBORNE; WITH OBSERVATIONS ON VARIOUS PARTS OF NATURE; AND THE NATURALIST’S CALENDAR. BY THE LATE REV. GILBERT WHITE, A.M. Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. WITH ADDITIONS AND SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES BY SIR WILLIAM JARDINE, BART. F.R.3.E., F.LS., M.W.S. EDICED, WITH FURTHER ILLUSTRATIONS, A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH DSF THE AUTBOR AND A COMPLETE INDEX, BY EDWARD JESSE, ESQ. Author of “ Gleanings in Natural History,” &c. &, WITH FORTY ENGRAVINGS. LONDON : GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1890. LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STANFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. od. Vo 60d, 40 tyi- Aal tl LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. ee ah PAGE Be gg es bees NS ke re TR BLACK GROUSE. See ATTA ee Mates Dik Uarl Be BRE Teese a) 5 seh pt as Te e/oadec hee Maan et) (Oe WATER RAT . . oe pee te q ad BRB I we) ak wt ek tes Ode BAT Mae oot 3 Tee ee ee eA Vat; Cee WHEAT-EAR AND WHIN-CHAT . hot aa Atay Pots ion MOUSE . eta 5 Aes da ae Re gcde. oats Ball Cap se ye WADE a oe Vs a 8, | Se fe eMy We . . : - 59 FROG . . ‘ : . . . - , e © ? . . 70 VIPER OR ADDER : ay te . ; : ‘ . . - 72 RING-OUSEL : F - e ° ‘ : ° ° a tag JACKDAW - : : ° . is ; . : : : «2 OO GOATSUCKER . - - : - - - - : = eerie te: SWALLOW e ° . . ° 3 ; ; - : : resis RAT ° ° ° ° = = . ° = F : 2 cyte 204 CUCKOO... * é « - “ ° - ~ : = i LOY “SSIS UU ASE ae as a eke baka 1a CHAFFINCH . . . . : - : * - - 1380 PEACOCK ° ° ; - : ; ; : P ery eel SNOWY OWL : “ - “ : : : - : . 158 OSPREY OR FISHING HAWK . . . . - : Vee EY HOUSE MARTIN . . ° . : : 4 - : 3 Ae 749) KOBIN OR REDBREAST P . : s : : Ee eae a2 Iv MISSEL THRUSH TITMOUSE . THE HOG WORMS SWIFT KITE ‘sPARROW-HAWK HONEY BUZZARD NUTHATCH . MAGPIE WILD DUCK OR MALLARD PARTRIDGES CORNCRAKES HEN HARRIERS GREY WAGTAIL GARDEN SNAIL LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. OR LANDRAILS A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. Ir is impossible for any one to read that charming book, “The Natural History of Selbourne,” or Selborne, as it is now generally spelt, without wishing to know something of its author, the Rey. Ginpert Wuirr. We regret, however, that from his secluded habits in his favourite village, and the monotony of his life, little is known of him. That little we will now lay before our readers, which we are the better enabled to do from having had in our possession for some years the Diaries of Mr. White, which he kept with great care and neatness. From these Diaries, a pretty correct idea may be formed of Mr. White’s habits of life. It is evident that he was strongly attached to the charms of rural life, and the tranquillity afforded by his favourite village, where “he spent the greater part of his time im literary occupations, and especially in the study of nature.” Gilbert White was born at Selborne, at the house where he afterwards lived and died, on the 18th of July, 1720. This house was then the residence of his grandmother, his vi A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF father residing at Compton, in Surrey. Gilbert Whit2’s father was the grandson of Sir Sampson White (knighted by Charles the Second, on his coronation), to whose memory a handsome monument is placed in St. Mary’s Church, Oxford. In the year 1731, his father came to Selborne to reside, when Gilbert White was eleven years of age. His father, John White, was the only son of Gilbert White, vicar of Selborne, and married Anne, only child of the Rev. Thomas Holt, rector of Streatham, in Surrey. Mr: John White was a barrister of the Middle Temple, but did not practise after his marriage. Gilbert, and three of his brothers, Thomas, John, and Henry, all much interested in the study of Natural History, were probably indebted to their father for their early lessons in their favourite pursuits. The brick- path at the back of the house, in the paddock, at Selborne, was laid down by him upwards of a century since, that in _ his old age he might be able to walk into his field in the early morning without wetting his feet. Jt remains to this day; the bricks having been double-burned especially for this purpose. He desired in his will that no monument should be erected to him, “not desiring to have his name recorded, save in the book of life.”’ Every thing relating to the family of Gilbert White must be interesting. His father was born in 1688, and died in 1759. And of his brothers, one of them, Thomas, was a Fellow of the Royal Society. To him, Gilbert was indebted for very many suggestions for his work; and to his influ- ence the public owe whatever pleasure they may have derived from its perusal, as it was only with much per- suasion that the philosopher of Selborne could be induced to pass through the ordeal of criticism, having a great dread of reviewers. This dread was in some degree removed by his brother THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. vii Thomas undertaking to give a review of his work in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” in which periodical it appeared in the year 1789. The following extract from it may interest our readers :— “Contemplative persons see with regret the country more and more deserted every day, as they know that every well- regulated family of property, which quits a village to reside: in a town, injures the place that is forsaken in many material circumstances. It is with pleasure, therefore, we observe, that so rational an employment of leisure time as the study of nature, promises to become popular; since whatever adds to the number of rural amusements, and consequently counteracts the allurements of the metropolis, is, on this consideration, ef national importance. “Most of the local histories which have fallen into our hands have been taken up with descriptions of the vestiges of ancient art and industry, while natural observations have been too much neglected. But we agree with Mr. White in his idea of parochial history, which, he thinks, ought to con- sist of natural productions and occurrences, as well as anti- quities: for antiquities, when once surveyed, seldom recal further attention, and are confined to one spot; whereas the pleasures of the naturalist continue through the year, return with unabated attractions every spring, and may be extended over the kingdom. “Mr. White is the gentleman who some years ago favoured the world with a monography of the British Hirundines, published in the Philosophical Transactions, which we reviewed in a former volume. It is now reprinted, and the same sagacity of observation runs through the work before us. * ¥* ¥ ¥ “The sliding down of a hill into a valley, in the neighbour- vill A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF hood of Selborne, gives the writer an opportunity of applying the succeeding apt passage from ‘The Cyder’ of John Philips :— Who knows but that once more . . . This mount may journey, and, his present site Forsaken, to thy neighbour’s bounds transfer Thy goodly plants, affording matter strange For law debates ? “Whether the poet alludes to any actual suit commenced in consequence of such an event, we are ignorant; but this quotation reminds us of a real litigation in Syria, between the owner of a hill and the possessor of some land in the adjoining dale, which was overwhelmed by its lapse. The Emir Yousef, before whom the cause was brought, finding the travelling of mountains, we suppose, to be a casus omissus in the Koran (the civil as well as religious code of the Mahometans), decided in a manner satisfactory to all parties, by generously making good the losses of both plaintiff and defendant.—Volney’s Travels, chap. 20. “Letter 53 contains a curious account of the Coccus vitis vinifera, an insect very pernicious to vines in southern climates. The vine, having no plants indigenous to England of the same genus, remains here free from the ravages of insects, except in this instance; though our other kinds of wall-fruit, which have been introduced from warmer climates are annoyed with the insects of the congenerous native plants. This writer is, we believe, the first who has described it scientifically as found in this country. But we apprehend that enthusiastic gardener, Sir William Temple, a century ago, complains of this nuisance as infesting his exctics. —Works, vol. 3, p. 209, 8vo, 1757. “Tf this author should be thought by any to have been too minute in his researches, be it remembered that his studies have been in the great bock of nature. It must be THE REV. GIUBERT WHITE. ix confessed, that the economy of the several kinds of crickets, and the distinction between the stock-dove and the ring- dove, are humble pursuits, and will be esteemed trivial by many; perhaps by some to be objects of ridicule. However, before we condemn any pursuits which contribute so much to health by calling us abroad, let us consider how the studious have employed themselves in their closets. In a former century, the minds of the learned were engaged in determining whether the name of the Roman poet should be spelt Vergilius or Virgilius; and the number of Ictters in the name of Shakespear still remains a matter of much solicitude and criticism. Nor can we but think that the conjectures about the migration of Hirundines are fully as interesting as the Chattertonian controversy. “ We could have wished that this gentleman had uniformly, as he has frequently, used the Linnean names. No naturalist can now converse intelligibly in any other language than that of the celebrated Swede. And impartiality compels us to say, that we are disappointed in not finding a particular account of the tillage of the district where Selborne is situate. A person with this writer’s patient observation would have made many remarks highly valuable. Men of intelligence, like him, are wanted to promote an intimacy between the library and the plough. The man of books sees many errors which he supposes he could correct; while the practical cultivator laughs at the essays of the theorist. Much the greater part of renting farmers are prevented, by their anxiety to wind the bottom round the year, from engaging in experiments ; and many think it nearly criminal to deviate from the practice of their forefathers ; so that, at this day, it remains for gentlemen of property and enlarged minds to determine whether it is best to sow three bushels of wheat, or one, on an acre of land. In other words, whether there be not as much corn yearly wasted by superfluous, perhaps x A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF injurious, seeding, as would furnish an annual and ample supply for the largest city. Though agriculture has of late been attended to, still he would be one of the greatest bene- factors to his countrymen in general, who would convince them that the richest mine of national wealth hes within six inches of the surface, and who would teach them the most advantageous method of working it. “On the whole, we will pronounce that the inquirers into natural knowledge will find Mr. White to be no unequa successor of Ray and Derham; and that the History of the Priory is a curious tract of local antiquity. We should not hesitate to speak so favourably of this work even though it had much less rural anecdote and literary allusion to recom- mend it.” Having given this short account of a part of Gilbert White’s family, we will proceed to an account of the Naturalist himself. He received his education at Basingstoke, under the Rey. Thomas Warton, vicar of that town, and the father of those two distinguished literary characters, Dr. Joseph Warton, Master of Winchester School, and Mr. Thomas Warton, Professor of Poetry at Oxford. He was ad- mitted at Oriel College in December, 1739, and took his degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1743. In March, 1744, he was elected Fellow of his College. He became Master of Arts in October, 1746, and served the office of Proctor, which he did to the great surprise of his family, as they thought it would not suit his habits; but he is said to have performed his duties ably. It is probable, however, that he was more observant of the swallows in the Christchurch meadows, than of the under-graduates in High-street. He had frequent opportunities of accepting College livings, but his fondness for his native village—his love of the country and its pursuits, and especially that of Natural History—made him decline all THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. x1 preferment. There can be no doubt that the “shades of old Selborne, so lovely and sweet,” were peculiarly well adapted for the observations of a lover of nature; and here Mr. White passed his days either in correspondence with, or in the society of, amiable friends, and closed them in the 73rd year of his age, on the 26th of June, 1793. Mr. White in his earlier days was much attached to Miss Mulso (afterwards Mrs. Chapone), whose brother was his most intimate friend, and between them a most interesting and amusing series of letters took place. These letters would have been well worth publishing, and it was intended that this should be done; but when Mr. Mulso’s son was applied to for Mr. White’s correspondence, the mortifying answer was returned that they had all been destroyed. Mr. Mulso’s letters, we understand, are still remaining. It should be mentioned, on the authority of one of his nephews, and it may well be imagined, that Gilbert White’s habits were very temperate, and his temper cheerful and social. He was often surrounded by his nephews and nieces, and visited by the respectable gentry of his neighbourhood. His pleasing manners were duly appreciated by them all. As long as his health allowed him, he always attended the annual election of Fellows at Oriel College, where the gen- tlemen commoners were allowed the use of the common-room after dinner. This liberty they seldom availed themselves of, except on the occasion of Mr. White’s visits; for such was his happy, and, indeed, inimitable manner of relating an anecdote and telling a story, that the room was always filled when he was there. Not very long after the publi- cation of his “Selborne,’’ Dr. Scrope Beardmore, the then Warden of Merton College, made the following striking observation to a nephew of Mr. White’s, from whom the Editor rec2ived the anecdote, ard whick has proved singularly prophetic :— P wil A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF “Your uncle,” the Warden said, “has sent into the world a publication with nothing to call attention to it but an advertisement or two in the newspapers ; but depend upon it the time will come when very few who buy books will be without it.” It was to Miss Mulso that Mr. White addressed the following suppositious letter from Timothy, his old tortoise, which may amuse some of his admirers :— Most RESPECTED Lapy, Your letter gave me great satisfaction, being the first that I was ever honoured with. It is my wish to answer you in your own way ; but I could never make a verse in my life, so you must be content: with plain prose. Having seen but little of this great world, conversed but little. read less, I feel myself much at a loss how to entertain so intelli- gent a correspondent. Unless you will let me write about myself, my answer will be very short. Know, then, that I am ar American, and was born in the year 1734, in the province of Virginia, in the midst of a savannah that lay between a large tobacco plantation and a creek of the sea. Here I spent my youthful days among my relations, with much satisfaction, and saw around me many venerable kinsmen, who attained to great ages without any interruption from distempers. Longevity is so general among our species, that a funeral is quite a rare occur- rence. I can just remember the death of my great great grandfather, who departed this life in the 160th year of his age. Happy should I have been in the enjoyment of my native climate, and the society of my friends, had not a sea-boy, who was wandering about to see what he could pick up, surprised me as I was sunning myself under a bank, and whipping me into his wallet, carried me aboard his ship. The circumstances of our voyage were not worthy of recital. I only remember the rippling of the water against the sides of the vessel as we sailed aiong, was a very lulling and composing sound, which served to sooth my slumbers as I lay in the hold. We had a_ short THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. xii voyage, and came to anchor on the coast of England, in the harbour of Chichester. In that city my kidnapper sold me for half-a-crown to a country gentleman, who came up to attend an election. I was immediately packed in a basket, and carried, slung by the servant’s side, to their place of abode. As we rode very hard for forty miles, and as I had never been on horseback before, I found myself somewhat giddy with my airy jaunt. My purchaser, who was a good-humoured man, after showing me to some of his neighbours, and giving me the name of Timothy, took little further notice of me, so I fell under the care of his lady, a benevolent woman, whose humane attention extended to the meanest of her retainers. With this gentle- woman I remained almost forty years, living in a little walled-in court, in the front of her house, and enjoying much quiet, and as much satisfaction as I could expect without society, which I often languished after. At last the good old lady died, at a very advanced age, such as even a tortoise would call a great age, and I then became the property of her nephew. This man, my present master, dug me out of my winter retreat, and packing me in a deal box, jumbled me eighty miles to my present abode. I was sorely shaken by this expedition, which was the worst journey I ever experienced. In my present situation I enjoy many advantages, such as the range of an extensive garden, affording a variety of sun and shade, and abounding in lettuces, poppies, kidney-beans, and many other salubrious and delectable herbs and plants, and especially with a good choice of delicate gooseberries! But still at times I miss my good old mistress, whose grave and regular deportment suited best with my disposition ; for you must know that my present master is what men call a naturalist, and much visited by people of that turn, who often put him on whimsical experiments, such as feeling my pulse, putting me into a tub of water to try if I can swim, &c. ; and twice a year I am carried to the grocer’s to be weighed, that it may be seen how much I am wasted during the months of my abstinence, and how much I gain by feeding during the summer. Upon these occasions, I am placed on my pack in the scale, where I sprawl about, to the great diversion of the XIV A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF shopkeeper’s children. These matters displease me ; but there is another that hurts my pride,—I mean the contempt shown for my understanding, which these “lords of the creation ” are very apt to discover, thinking that nobody knows anything but them- selves. I heard my master say that he expected I should some day tumble down the ha-ha; whereas I would have him to know that I can discover a precipice from the plain ground as well as himself. Sometimes my master repeats with much seeming triumph the following lines, which occasion a loud laugh :— “ Timotheus, placed on high Amid the tuneful quire, With flying fingers touch’d the lyre.” For my part, I see no wit in the appucation, nor know whence the verses are quoted ; perhaps from some prophet of his own, who if he penned them for the sake of ridiculing tortoises, bestowed his pains, I think, to poor purposes. These are some of my grievances ; but they sit very light on me, in comparison of what remains behind. Know then, tender-hearted lady, that my great misfortune, and what I have never divulged to any one before, is the want of society with my own kind. This reflection is always uppermost in my mind, but comes upon me with irresistible force every spring. It was in the month of May last that I resolved to elope from my p.ace of confinement; for my fancy had repre- sented to me that probably many agreeable tortoises, of both sexes, might inhabit the heights of Baker’s Hill, or the exten- sive plains of the neighbouring meadow, both of which I could discern from the terrace. One sunny morning I watched my opportunity, found the wicket open, eluded the vigilance of the gardener, and escaped into the sainfoin, which begun to be in bloom, and thence into the beans. I was missing eight days, wandering in this wilderness of sweets, and exploring the meadow at times. But my pains were all to no purpose ; I could find no society such as I sought for. I began to grow hungry, and to wish myself at home. I therefore came forth in sight, ar surrendered myself up to Thomas, who had been incon- solable in my ahsence. | THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. XV Thus, Madam, have I given you a faithful account of my satisfactions and sorrows, the latter of which are mostly upper- most. You are a lady, I understand, of much sensibility ; let me therefore make my case your own in the following manner, and then you will judge of .my feelings: suppose you were to be kidnapped away to-morrow in the bloom of your life to a land of tortoises, and were never to see again a human face for fifty years!!! Think on this, dear lady, and pity, Your sorrowful Reptile, TIMOTHY. This much is known of Mr. White. Further particulars of him must be sought in his Diaries, his History of Selborne, and in his Correspondence. He was, strictly speaking, an out-door naturalist, following the pursuit with unwearied diligence, and enjoying the charms of rural scenery with unbounded admiration. “ Me far above the rest, Selbornian scenes, The pendant forests, and the mountain greens, Strike with delight: there spreads the distant view, That gradual fades till sunk in misty blue ; Here nature hangs her slopy woods to sight ; Rills hurl between and dart a quivering light.” Mr. WHITE. His Diaries were kept with unremitting diligence; and in kis annual migrations to Oriel College, and other places, his man Thomas, who seems to have been well qualified for the office, recorded the weather journal. The state of the thermometer, barometer, and the variations of the wind are noted, as well as the quantity of rain which fell. We have daily accounts of the weather, whether hot or cold, sunny or cloudy: we have, also information of the first tree in leaf, and even of the appearance of the first fungi, and of the plants first in blossom. We are told when m7sses vegetate, and when Xvi A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF insects first appear and disappear. There are also remarks with regard to fish and other animals; with miscellaneous observations and memoranda on various subjects. For instance, we are told that on the 21st of June, house-martins, which had laid their eggs in an old nest, had hatched them, and that when this is the case they get the start of those that build new ones by ten days or a fortnight. He speaks with some degree of triumph to having ricked his meadow hay in delicate order, and that Thomas had seen a pole-cat run across his garden. He records the circumstance of boys playing at ¢aw on the Plestor; and that he had set Gunnery, one of his bantam hens, on nine of her own eggs. He com- plains that dogs come into his garden at night and eat his gooseberries, and gives a useful hint to farmers and others, when he says that rooks and crows destroy an immense number of chaffers, and that were it not for these birds the chaffers would destroy everything. In addition to his remarks on Natural History, Mr. White recorded in his diaries the visits which were occasionally paid him, and carefully notes down the births of his numerous ne- phews and nieces, (amounting to about sixty-three at the time his diary closed,) as they respectively came into the world He “chronicled”’ his ale and beer, as they were brewed by his man Thomas, who appears to have been his valet, gar- dener, and assistant naturalist. He takes notice of the quantity of port wine which came to his share when he divided a pipe of it with some of his neighbours; and he makes frequent mention of his crops, his fine and early cu- cumbers, and the flavour of his Cardilliac peas,—he evidently passing much of his time in his garden. The appearance of his neighbours’ hops, the beginning and ending of their harvests, their bees, pigs, and poultry, are also noticed in succession, and appear to have added to the interest he took in rural lite. THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. XVil Insignificant as these little details may appear, they were not thought to be so by a man whose mind was evidently stored with considerable learning, who possessed a cultivated and elegant taste for what is beautiful in nature, and who has left behind him one of the most delightful works in the English language,—a work which will be read as long as that language lasts, and which is equally remarkable for its extreme accuracy, its pleasing style, and the agreeable and varied information it contains. In order to enable our readers to enter more fully into the merits of the “Natural History of Selborne,”’ some account of that village, its neighbourhood, and of Mr. White’s residence, is now given. Selborne is situated in the extreme eastern corner of Hampshire, bordering on Sussex. It is about fifty miles from London, and between the towns of Alton and Peters- field. It is evident (whatever may be the case at present) that in Mr. White’s time the village was not readily ap- proached by carriages. The charming deep sandy lanes in _ that part of Hampshire and Sussex, overgrown as they are with stunted oaks, hazels, hawthorns, and dog-roses, and the banks covered with wild strawberries, primroses, and pretty ferns, would in winter be filled with mud, to say nothing of the cart-ruts. I find amongst Mr. White’s papers the following pleasing lines, addressed to one of his nieces, Mrs. J. White, by her father, and signed G. T., and which will give some idea of the roads of Selborne :— “From henceforth, my dear M——, Ill no longer complain Of your ruts and your rocks, of your roads and your rain ; Here’s a proverb that suits with your cottage most pat, ‘When a thing’s of most worth, ’tis most hard to get at. And besides, where to find such another retreat As the shades of old Selborne, so lonely and sweet, Where the lover so freely may languish and sigh, Where the student may read, and the Christian may die? b KVill A SIIORT BIOGRAPHY OF But as now neither lover nor student am I, (I’m a Christian, I hope, but I wish not to die,) So nor books, nor a mistress, nor zeal have inspired My muse to commend what she ne’er has admired. Yet as mind gives a comfort to deserts and dens, Makes a turnpike of bogs, and a garden of glens; So affection, kind chemist ! I feel, can convert To the sweetest of sweets what I thought to be dirt. Be then welcome, dear Selborne, as welcome can be, As the primrose of May, or the hawthorn to me; For ’tis there (may they ever be blest from above !) Dwell a daughter and son, and the children I love.” * As Selborne is approached from Alton, the beauty of its valley is. seen as it bursts suddenly into view, and affords a prospect of great rural beauty. A foot-bridge is thrown across a deep ravine of rocky bank, at the bottom of which a little streamlet runs over a road, which is at once its channel and the carriage-way to the village. From this spot the precipitous beechen hangers may be seen, so often referred to by Mr. White; the white tower of the village church; the snug parsonage, and the pretty cottages, sprinkled over the landscape. Farm-houses, with their barns and straw-yards, hop-lands, and corn-fields, and what is seldom seen in these degenerate days, a may-pole, add to the beauty of the scenery. . And here I may be allowed to quote a passage or two from an article which appeared some years ago in the New Monthly Magazine, on the village of Selborne, written by one who appears to have visited it out of pure love for the memory of Mr. White, and from the pleasure he had derived from his writings. “The traveller who would ‘view fair Selbouis aright,’ should humour the caprices of our fickle climate, and visit * [These lines were written by Mr. Gabriel Tahourdin.] THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. x1x it only when its fie!ds and foliage are clothed in their summer verdure, or autumnal russet, and lighted up in genial sun- shine; for its beauty is of the joyous seasons, fitted neither to be observed by the sullen influence of a rainy day, nor torn by the rude hand of winter. Descending into ‘the single straggling street’ of which the village consists, my steps were instinctively directed towards the hanger, and I soon found myself climbing the winding path which was cut through the beech-wood in the time of Gilbert White. A sweeter spot than the interior of this thick covert, with its craggy slopes, and ‘graceful pendulous foliage,’ it is impossible to conceive. The effect on entering its cool shades, and deep twilight gloom, after the full blaze of the glowing sunshine, was most refreshing, and stole over the senses with a peculiar delight. The stillness which reigned around was here only broken by the hum of insects, and the tinkling of the bells from a herd of cattle, which, the wood- land being part of the village common ground, were turned in to graze. The charm of the scene was much increased by this rural music, borne through the glades in the hanger. “Mr. White’s own house, the successive abode of several generations of his family, is, of course, the first object of the traveller’s inquiry. It stands not very far from the church, and is an irregular, unpretending edifice, which has evidently been enlarged at different periods, with more eare of interior comfort than of architectural symmetry. Aided by the old-fashioned neatness of its lawns and gravel walks, the house preserves the staid aspect of bygone days, and has apparently undergone no alteration since the death of the naturalist. It was impossible to gaze on the spot without recalling to memory those hundred little passages in his book which, with so pleasing and beautiful an association, have identified the intellectual pursuits of the man, with the tasteful purity of his mind, with the every beauty of his xx A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF beloved retreat. The swallows, his favourite object of notice among the ‘ winged people,’ were at the moment careering in circles round the house, and twittering among its eaves. Tn looking over the garden-fence, I thought of its quondam tenant, and his old familiar friends, his tortoise, whose habits he has so quaintly described; and at last the form of the venerable naturalist himself almost rose up in fancy before me. In the churchyard is an ancient yew, which I do not remember that White has noticed, and measuring full sixteen feet in girth.” And here we may set this tasteful traveller right. Although no mention is made of this tree in the Natural History, it occurs in the fifth letter of the “ Antiquities of Selborne,” where White says that in the churchyard of the village is a yew-tree whose aspect bespeaks it to be of a great age. It seems to have seen several centuries, and is probably coeval with the church, and therefore may be deemed an antiquity. The body is short, squat, and thick, and measures twenty-three feet in the girth, supporting a head of suitable extent to its bulk. This is a male tree, which in the spring sheds clouds of dust, and fills the atmosphere around with farina. We may mention, while speaking of the Sel- borne churchyard, that on the fifth grave from the north wall of the chancel, the following inscription may be seen on a head-stone :— GW: 26 JUNE, 1793. There is “a slight heave of the turf,’ and this marks the humble grave of the naturalist and philosopher. In the church there is the following inscription on a monument :-— THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. xxi IN THE FIFTH GRAVE FROM THIS WALL ARE BURIED THE REMAINS GF Tue Rev. GILBERT WHITE, m.a., FIFTY YEARS FELLOW OF ORIEL COLLEGE, IN OXFORD, AND HISTORIAN OF THIS HIS NATIVE PARISH. HE WAS ELDEST SON OF JOHN WHITE, ESQUIRE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW, AND ANNE, HIS WIFE, ONLY CHILD OF THOMAS HOLT, RECTOR OF STREATHAM, IN SURREY, WHICH SAID JOHN WHITE WAS THE ONLY SON OF GILBERT WHITE, FORMERLY VICAR OF THIS PARISH. HE WAS KIND AND BENEFICENT TO HIS RELATIONS, BENEVOLENT TO THE POOR, AND DESERVEDLY RESPECTED BY ALL HIS FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS. HE WAS BORN JULY 18TH, 1720, 0.8, AND DIED JUNE 26TH, 1793, NEC BONO QUICQUAM MALI EVENIRE POTEST, NEC VIVO, NEC MORTUO. Few personal reminiscences of Gilbert White are now to be collected at Selborne. The writer we have quoted states, that “all an old dame, who had nursed several of the family, could tell him of a philosophical old bachelor, was that he was a still, quiet body,” and that “ there wasn’t abit of harm in him, I’ll assure you, sir,—there wasn’t, indeed.” Alas! for all the dignity of science, and all the honour that befalleth “a prophet in his own country.” Mr. White died, as we have already said, at the advanced age of seventy-three, having passed his life with scarcely any other vicissitudes than those of the seasons. The fol- lowing letter, with which the editor has been favoured by one of Mr. White’s family, will show his style of correspond- ence,—it was addressed to his brother Thomas. EXL A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF DEAR BROTHER, As I have often heard Sir 8. Stuart say, that if he had his timber to sell over again he could sell it for 5002. or 600/. more than he made of it: and as men seldom have much timber to sell a second time, you should, I think, retain Mr Hounsom as your counsel, and make use of his superior judgment before you bargain. I hope you will find 4,000/. worth of trees that are ripe on your estate, and that sum will help much towards your younger children’s fortunes. As the blotted will is in the testator’s own handwriting, I fear that circumstance will go much against us. Our uncle, Francis White, of Baliol Coll, left three imperfect wills in his own hand- writing, much interlined with a pencil, and in strange confusion and obscurity ; but as the parties chiefly concerned were Alder- man White and our Grandfather of the Vicarage, they were so wise and moderate as to let law alone, and to settle matters by reference: so the lawyers were bit. By all means, when you are more settled, begin laying in a fund of materials for the Nat. Hist. and Antiquities of this county. You are now at a time of life when judgment is mature, and when you have not lost that activity of body necessary for such pursuits. You must afford us good engravings to your work, and carry about an artist to the remarkable places. In many respects you will easily beat Plot: he is too credulous sometimes trifling, and sometimes superstitious ; and at all times ready to make a needless display and ostentation of erudition. Your knowledge of physic, chemistry, anatomy, and botany, will greatly avail you. The sameness of soil in this county will prove to your disadvantage ; while the variety of stuff is prodigious ; coal, lead, copper, salt, marble, alabaster, fuller’s earth, potters’ clay, pipe-clay, iron, marl, &e. while we in general have nought but chalk. But then you must get Benj. to write abroad for the treatise De creté, and make the most of it, as it is so little known. Bp. Tanner will be of vast use for the religious houses, It is to be lamented that Plot was prevented by death from going on, for he improves vastly in his second Hist., which greatly exceeds his “Oxfordshire.” We have you know, an actual Survey THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. 1x10 of Hants, whicl. you must get reduced so as to fold into a folio, You should study heraldry, and give the coats of arms of our nobility and gentry : til! lately I was not aware how necessary that study is to an antiquarian ; it is soon learnt, I think. There are in this county 253 parishes, most of which you should see, The Isle of Wight must also come into your plan. Time has not yet permitted me to go through half Priestley’s Electrical Hist. ; but in vol. i. p. 86, I remark that Dr. Desa- guliers proposed the following conjecture concerning the rise of vapours :—“ The air at the surface of water being electrical, particles of water, he thought, jumped to it; then becoming themselves electrical, they repelled both the air and one another, and consequently ascended into the higher regions of the atmosphere.” If this be always the case, what becomes of our supposition, which is, that by contact and condensation, the water in vapour is drawn from the air to the water, and that thus upland ponds are mostly supplied ? Yours, affect., Git. WHITE. I never saw an electrometer. Our neighbourhood is all bad with colds ; and among the rest myself also: some have eruptive fevers. It is hoped that this short sketch of an observant out- door naturalist, and true lover of nature, will not be found uninteresting. There is something so pleasing in tracing Mr. White’s pursuits, in contemplating his kind and ami- able disposition, and in viewing his benevolent and christian character, that we cannot but turn to the perusal of his charming work with increased pleasure and delight when the writer of it is more clearly placed before us. The editing of it has been a labour of love and pleasure to the present writer. Although a very humble follower and dis- ciple of Gilbert White, he attributes his own pursuits, as an out-door naturalist, entirely to his example; and with him can truly declare, that they have, under Providence, by XXiV BIOGRAPHY OF THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. keeping the body and mind employed, contributed to much health and cheerfulness of spirits; and, what still adds to his happiness, have led him to the knowledge of a circle of friends, whose intelligent communications will ever be consi- dered a matter of singular satisfaction and improvement. I am. indebted to one of my daughters for the following short poetical summary of the Rey. Gilbert White’s amiable character :— He lived in solitude—’midst trees and flowers, Life’s sunshine mingling with its passing showers ; No storms to startle, and few clouds 4o shade, The even path his christian virtues made. Yet not alone he lived! Soft voices near, With whisper’d sweetness, soothed the good man’s ear ; He heard them murmuring through the distant trees, While, softly wafted on the summer breeze, The hum of insects and the song of birds Spoke to his heart in tones more sweet than words. Him in those quiet shades the poor might bless, Though few intruded on his loneliness ; He fed the hungry, pitied the distress’d, And smooth’d their path to everlasting rest. Thus hearing Nature speak in every sound, Goodness and love in all her works he found, Sermons in stones and in the running brooks ; Wisdom far wiser than in printed books, And in the silence of his calm abode In nature’s works he worshipp’d nature’s God ! Maritpa Hovustroun POEMS, SELECTED FROM THE MANUSCRIPTS OF THE REV. GILBERT WHITE. INVITATION TO SELBORNE. —— e—_ Sxx, Selborne spreads her boldest beauties round The varied valley, and the mountain ground, Wildly majestic! What is all the pride Of flats, with loads of ornaments supplied ?— Unpleasing, tasteless, impotent expense, Compared with Nature’s rude magnificence. Arise, my stranger, to these wild scenes haste ; The unfinish’d farm awaits your forming taste : Plan the pavilion, airy, light, and true ; Through the high arch call in the length’ning view ¢ Expand the forest sloping up the hill ; Swell to a lake the scant, penurious rill ; Extend the vista; raise the castle mound In antique taste, with turrets ivy-crown’d: O’er the gay lawn the flow’ry shrub dispread, Or with the blending garden mix the mead ; Bid China’s pale, fantastic fence delight ; Or with the mimic statue trap the sight. © Oft on some evening, sunny, soft, and still, The Muse shall lead thee to the beech-grown hill, To spend in tea the cool, refreshing hour, Where nods in air the pensile, nest-like bower ; * Or where the hermit hangs the straw-clad cell,t Emerging gently from the leafy dell, * A kind of arbour on the side of a hill. + A grotesque building, contrived by a young gentleman, who used on eecasion te appear in the character of a hermit. B2 4 POEMS. By fancy plann’d ; as once th’ inventive maid Met the hoar sage amid the secret shade: Romantic spot ! from whence in prospect lies Whate’er of landscape charms our feasting eyes,— The pointed spire, the hall, the pasture plain, The russet fallow, or the golden grain, The breezy lake that sheds a gleaming light, Till all the fading picture fail the sight. Each to his task ; all different ways retire: Cull the dry stick ; call forth the seeds of fire ; Deep fix the kettle’s props, a forky row, Or give with fanning hat the breeze to blow. Whence is this taste, the furnish’d hall forgot, To feast in gardens, or th’ unhandy grot ? Or novelty with some new charms surprises, Or from our very shifts some joy arises. Hark, while below the village bells ring round, Echo, sweet nymph, returns the soften’d sound ; But if gusts rise, the rushing forests roar, Like the tide tumbling on the pebbly shore. Adown the vale, in lone, sequester’d nook, Where skirting woods imbrown the dimpling brook, The ruin’d convent lies : here wont to dwell The lazy canon midst his cloister’d cell,* While Papal darkness brooded o’er the land, Ere Reformation made her glorious stand : Still oft at eve belated shepherd swains See the cowl’d spectre skim the folded plains. To the high Temple would my stranger go,t The mountain-brow commands the woods below : In Jewry first this order found a name, When madding Croisades set the world in flame ; When western climes, urged on by pope and priest Pour’d forth their millions o’er the deluged East : * The ruins of a Priory, founded by Peter de Rupibus, Bishop of Winchester. + The remains of a Preceptory of the Knights Templars; at least it was a farm dependent upon some preceptory of that order. I find it was a preceptery, called the Preceptory of Suddington ; now called Southington, POEMS. Cr Luxurious knights, ill suited to defy To mortal fight Turcéstan chivalry. Nor be the parsonage by the Muse forgot— The partial bard admires his native spot ; Smit with its beauties, loved, as yet a child, Unconscious why, its capes, grotesque and wild, High on a mound th’ exalted gardens stand, Beneath, deep valleys, scoop’d by Nature’s hand. A Cobham here, exulting in his art, Might blend the general’s with the gardener’s part 3 Might fortify with all the martial trade Of rampart, bastion, fosse, and palisade ; Might plant the mortar with wide threat’ning bore, Or bid the mimic cannon seem to roar. Now climb the steep, drop now your eye below Where round the blooming village orchards grow ; There, like a picture, lies my lowly seat, A rural, shelter’d, unobserved retreat. Me far above the rest Selbornian scenes, The pendent forests, and the mountain greens, Strike with delight ; there spreads the distant view, That gradual fades till sunk in misty blue : Here Nature hangs her slopy woods to sight, Rills purl between and dart a quivering light. SELBORNE HANGER. A WINTER PIECE. TO THE MISS B*****§, Tue bard, who sang so late in blithest strain Selbornian prospects, and the rural reign, Now suits his plaintive pipe to sadden’d tone, While the blank swains the ckangeful year bemoan. How fallen the glories of these fading scenes ! The dusky beech resigns his vernal greens ; The yellow maple mourns in sickly hue, Aud russet woodlands crowd the dark’ning view. 6 POEMS. Dim, clust’ring fogs involve the country round, The valley and the blended mountain ground Sink in confusion ; but with tempest-wing Should Boreas from his northern barrier spring, The rushing woods with deaf’ning clamour roar, Like the sea tumbling on the pebbly shore. When spouting rains descend in torrent tides, See the torn zigzag weep its channel’d sides - Winter exerts its rage; heavy and slow, From the keen east rolls on the treasured snow ; Sunk with its weight the bending boughs are seen, And one bright deluge whelms the works of men. Amidst this savage landscape, bleak and bare, Hangs the chill hermitage in middle air ; Its haunts forsaken, and its feasts forgot, A leaf-strown, lonely, desolated cot ! Is this the scene that late with rapture rang, Whiere Delphy danced, and gentle Anna sang ? With fairy step where Harriet tripp’d so late, And, on her stump reclined, the musing Kitty sate ? Return, dear nymphs ; prevent the purple spring, Ere the sott nightingale essays to sing ; Ere the first swallow sweeps the fresh’ning plain, Ere love-sick turtles breathe their amorous pain ; Let festive glee th’ enliven’d village raise, Pan’s blameless reign, and patriarchal days ; With pastoral dance the smitten swain surprise, And bring all Arcady before our eyes. Return, blithe maidens ; with you bring along Free, native humour ; all the charms of song ; The feeling heart, and unaffected ease ; Each nameless grace and ev’ry power to please, Nov. 1, 1763, POEMS. 7 ON THE RAINBOW.* Look upon the Rainbow, and praise him that made it: very beautifulis . in the brightness thereof.”—Zccles., xliii. 11. On morning or on evening cloud impress’d, Bent in vast curve, the watery meteor shines Delightfully, to th’ levell’d sun opposed : Lovely refraction! while the vivid brede In listed colours glows, th’ unconscious swain, With vacant eye, gazes on the divine Phenomenon, gleaming o’er the illumined fields, Or runs to catch the treasures which it sheds. Not so the sage: inspired with pious awe, He hails the federal arch ;+ and looking up, Adores that God, whose fingers form’d this bow Magnificent, compassing heaven about With a resplendent verge, “ Thou mad’st the cloud, “Maker omnipotent, and thou the bow ; “ And by that covenant graciously hast sworn “ Never to drown the world again : ¢ henceforth, “Till time shall be no more, in ceaseless round, “Season shall follow season: day to night, “Summer to winter, harvest to seed time, “Heat shall to cold in regular array “Succeed.”—Heav’n taught, so sang the Hebrew bard.§ A HARVEST SCENE. WAkED by the gentle gleamings of the morn, Soon clad, the reaper, provident of want, Hies cheerful-hearted to the ripen’d field : Nor hastes alone: attendant by his side * This and the following poem were published in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1783, page 955, as imitations of an old poet.—Ep. + Gen., ix. 12—17. t Gen., viii. 22. § Moses. POEMS. His faithful wife, sole partner of his cares, Bears on her breast the sleeping babe ; behind, With steps unequal, trips her infant train ; Thrice happy pair, in love and labour join’d ! All day they ply their task ; with mutual chat, Beguiling each the sultry, tedious hours, Around them falls in rows the sever’d corn, Or the shocks rise in regular array. But when high noon invites to short repast, Beneath the shade of sheltering thorn they sit, Divide the simple meal, and drain the cask : The swinging cradle lulls the whimpering babe Meantime ; while growling round, if at the tread Of hasty passenger alarm’d, as of their store Protective, stalks the cur with bristling back, To guard the scanty scrip and russet frock. ON THE DARK, STILL, DRY, WARM WEATHER, OCCASIONALLY HAPPENING IN THE WINTER MONTHS. TH’ imprison’d winds slumber within their caves, Fast bound : the fickle vane, emblem of change, Wavers no more, long settling to a point. All Nature nodding seems composed: thick steama, From land, from flood up-drawn, dimming the day, “ Like a dark ceiling stand :” slow through the air Gossamer floats, or, stretch’d from blade to blade, The wavy net-work whitens all the field. Push’d by the weightier atmosphere, up springs The ponderous mercury, from scale to scale Mounting, amidst the Torricellian tube.* While high in air, and poised upon his wings, Unseen, the soft, enamour’d woodlark runs * The barometer. POEMS. Through all his maze of melody ; the brake, Loud with the blackbird’s bolder note, resounds. Sooth’d by the genial warmth, the cawing rook Anticipates the spring, selects her mate, Haunts her tall nest-trees, and with sedulous care Repairs her wicker eyrie, tempest-torn. The ploughman inly smiles to see upturn His mellow glebe, best pledge of future crop: With glee the gardener eyes his smoking beds 5 E’en pining sickness feels a short relief. The happy schoolboy brings transported forth His long-forgotten scourge, and giddy gig: O’er the white paths he whirls the rolling hoop, Or triumphs in the dusty fields of taw. Not so the museful sage :—abroad he walks Contemplative, if haply he may find What cause controls the tempest’s rage, or whence, Amidst the savage season, Winter smiles. For days, for weeks, prevails the placid calm. At length some drops prelude a change: the sun With ray refracted, bursts the parting gloom, When all the chequer’d sky is one bright glare. Mutters the wind at eve ; th’ horizon round With angry aspect scowls: down rush the showers, And float the deluged paths, and miry fields, THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. IN A SERIES OF LETTERS ADDRESSED TO THOMAS PENNANT, Eso. AND THe Hoy. DAINES BARRINGTON. OLA UTATE COS ACE OEE are n y Fie 4 a Layee y ’ *, ee rer, a af et ; Oatoely A Ne 3 atch THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. LETTER I. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. Tue parish of Selborne lies in the extreme eastern corner of the county of Hampshire, bordering on the county of Sussex, and not far from the county of Surrey; is about fifty miles south-west of London, in latitude 51, and near midway between the towns of Alton and Petersfield. Being very large and extensive, it abuts on twelve parishes, two of which are in Sussex, viz. Trotton and Rogate. If you begin from the south, and proceed westward, the adjacent parishes are Emshot, Newton Valence, Faringdon, Harteley, Mauduit, Great Ward-le-ham, Kingsley, Hedleigh, Bramshot, Trotton, Rogate, Lysse, and Greatham. The soils of this district are almost as various and diversified as the views and aspects. The high part to the south-west consists of a vast hill of chalk, rising three hundred feet above the village; and is divided into a sheep-down, the high wood, and a long hanging wood, called the Hanger. The covert of this emi- nence is altogether beech, the most lovely of all forest trees, whether we consider its smooth rind or bark, its glossy foliage, or graceful pendulous boughs.* The down, or * The beeca is certainly a beautiful tree, either when planted singly or in lumps ; but I cannot agree with our author, in thinking it the “ most lovely of all forest trees.” The ash and birch, and perhaps the Huntingdon willow, 14 VILLAGE OF SELBORNE sheep-walk, is a pleasing park-like spot, of about one mile by half that space, jutting out on the verge of the hill- country, where it begins to break down into the plains, and commanding a very engaging view, being an assemblage of hill, dale, woodlands, heath, and water. The prospect is bounded to the south-east and east by the vast range of mountains, called the Sussex Downs; by Guild-down, near Guildford, and by the Downs round Dorking, and Ryegate in Surrey, to the north-east; which altogether, with the country beyond Alton, and Farnham, form a noble and extensive outline. At the foot of this hill, one stage, or step from the uplands, lies the village, which consists of one single straggling street, three quarters of a mile in length, in a sheltered vale and running parallel with the Hanger. The houses are divided trom the hill by a vein of stiff clay, (good wheat land,) yet stand on a rock of white stone, little in appearance removed from chalk; but seems so far from being calcareous, that it endures extreme heat. Yet, that the freestone still pre- serves somewhat that is analogous to chalk, is plain, from the beeches, which descend as low as those rocks extend, arsl ao farther, and thrive as well on them, where the ground 8 steep, as on the chalks. The cart-way of the village divides, in a remarkable are certainly more elegant and graceful: the former, I think, has been termed by Gilpin, the “ Venus” of British trees. The plane and horse-chestnut wili outvie it in a dense and deep rich foliage, while the oak will far outstrip all in an imposing and venerable aspect. The beech was formerly much more planted than at present. It was admirably suited for the landscape gardening of the last century ; and the wood was of more value, being much in request for various parts of machinery, which the extensive use of iron has now super- seded,— W. J. We quite agree with Mr. White in his praise of the beech tree. When we consider the beauty of its velvct green leaves, as they first burst forth in the spring, and its glowing russet foliage in the autumn, and then look at its silvery bark, and bold projecting roots, both here and there covered with verdant mosses, it is impossible not to allow it to be “the most lovely of all forest trees.”? Those who have seen the Burnham beeches, the noble beech trees in Windsor Great Park and its adjoining forest, and those in a forest between Henley-on-Thames and Petsworth, will not be inclined to concur with Sir William Jardine, in preferring the ash, birch, and Huntingdon willow, to it. What are more graceful than the pendulous branches of the beech, covered with hoar frost in winter !—Eb. STREAMS. 15 manner, two very incongruous soils. To the south-west 1s a rank clay, that requires the labour of years to render it mellow; while the gardens to the north-east, and small enclosures behind, consist of a warm, forward, crumbling mould, called black malm, which seems highly saturated with vegetable and animal manure; and these may perhaps have been the original site of the town; while the woods and coverts might extend down to the opposite bank. At each end of the village, which runs from south-east to north-west, arises a small rivulet: that at the north-west end frequently fails; but the other is a fine perennial spring, little influenced by drought or wet seasons, called Well- head.* This breaks out of some high grounds adjoining to Nore Hill, a noble chalk promontory, remarkable for sending forth two streams into two different seas. The one to the south becomes a branch of the Arun, running to Arundel, and so falling into the British Channel; the other to the north. The Selborne stream makes one branch of the Wey ; and, meeting the Blackdown stream at Hedleigh, and the Alton and Farnham stream at Tilford-bridge, swells into a considerable river, navigable at Godalming; from whence it passes to Guildford, and so into the Thames at Weybridge ; and thus at the Nore into the German Ocean. Our wells, at an average, run to about sixty-three feet, and, when sunk to that depth, seldom fail; but produce a fine limpid water, soft to the taste, and much commended by those who drink the pure element, but which does not lather well with soap. To the north-west, north, and east, of the village, is a range of fair enclosures, consisting of what is called a white mnalm, a sort of rotten or rubble stone, which, when turned up to the frost and rain, moulders to pieces, and becomes manure to itself.t Still on to the north-east, and a step lower, is a kind of * This spring produced, September 14, 1781, after a severe hot summer, snd a preceding dry spring and winter, nine gallons of water in a minute, which ‘8 five hundred and forty in an hour, and twelve thousand nine hundred and tixty, or two hundred and sixteen hogsheads in twenty-four hours, or one natural day. At this time many of the wells failed, and all the ponds in the \rales were dry. } This seil produces good wheat and clover. 16 VILLAGE CF SELBORNE. white land, neither chalk nor clay, neither fit for pasture nor for the plough, yet kindly for hops, which root deep into the freestone, and have their poles and wood for charcoal growing ust at hand. This white soil produces the brightest hops. As the parish still inclines down towards Wolmer Forest, at the juncture of the clays and sand, the soil becomes a wet, sandy loam, remarkable for timber, and infamous for roads. The oaks of Temple and Blackmoor stand high in the esti- mation of purveyors, and have furnished much naval timber ; while the trees on the freestone grow large, but are what workmen call shakey, and so brittle as often to fall to pieces m sawing.* Beyond the sandy loam the soil becomes a hungry lean sand, till it mingles with the forest; and will produce little without the assistance of lime and turnips. LETTER II. TO THE SAME, In the court of Norton farm-house, a manor farm to the north-west of the village, on the white malms, stood within these twenty years a broad-leaved elm, or wych hazel, wlnus folio latissimo scabrot of Ray, which, though it had lost a considerable leading bough in the great storm im the year * The common larch is very soon lost when plarted above a substratum of red sandstone. In the Vale of the Annan, wherever the sloping banks have a substratum of this rock, or one composed of a sort of red sandstone, shingle, or gravel, the outward decay of the tree is visible at from fifteen to twenty-five years of age. The internal decay commences sooner, according to the depth of the upper soil, in the centre of the trunk, at the root, in the wood being ot a darker colour, extending by degrees in circumference and up the stem, until the lower part of it becomes entirely deprived of vegetation, and assumes a tough and corky appearance. This extends to the whole plant, which gradually decays and dies. On the same soil the oak grows and thrives well. The “ freestone” to which Mr. White refers, is the white or grey, and may have a different effect on these trees.—W. J. + The ulmus montana, Sir J. E. Smith, and the most common in Scotland There are four additional species admitted into the Flora of Great Britain, which are now to be generally met with in the plantations made within the last twelve or fifteen years.—W. J. BROAD-LEAVED ELM. 17 1703, equal to a moderate tree, yet, when felled, contained eight loads of timber; and being too bulky for a carriage, was sawn off at seven feet above the butt, where it measured near eight feet in diameter.* This elm J mention, to show to what a bulk planted elms may attain; as this tree must certainly have been such, from its situation.t In the centre of the village, and near the church, is a square piece of ground, surrounded by houses, and vulgarly called the Plestor.t In the midst of this spot stood, in olden times, a * The dimensions here alluded to are insignificant, when compared with those of a wych elm recorded by Mr. Evelyn, growing in Sir Walter Bagot’s park, in the county of Stafford, which, after two men had been five days felling, lay 40 yards in length, and was at the stool 17 feet diameter. It broke in the fall, 14 loads of wood: 48 in the top: yielding 8 pair of naves, 8660 feet of boards and planks; it cost 10/. 17s. the sawing. The whole esteemed 97 tons.—Evetyn’s Sylva, ii. 189. Pitte’s elm, in the Vale of Gloucester, was, in 1783, about 80 fect high, and the smallest girth of the principal trunk was 16 feet.—W. J. Dr. Plot mentions an elm growing on Blechington Green, which gave recep- tion and harbour to a poor great-bellied woman, whom the inhospitable people would net receive into their houses, who was brought to bed in it of a son, now a lusty young fellow.—Puot’s Oxfordshire.—W. J. + One of the largest wych elms in England is now growing and flourishing in the grounds of Mr. and Lady Charlotte Penihyn, at Sheen, Surrey. Two hundred persons lately sat down to a déjeéner under the shade of its spreading branches.— Eb. Our largest trees are quite insignificant when compared with one our present excellent bishop of New Zealand discovered in one of the Tonga Islands, a part of his diocese. In a letter to his father he mentions, that having measured it, he found it 23 fathoms, or 138 feet in circumference! Humboldt, in his very interesting work, “ Views of Nature,” has a chapter on the age and size of trees, in which he mentions the pine tree, “ Taxodium distichon,” as measuring above 40 feet in diameter.—See Bohn’s edition, p. 274, Other remarkable examples will be found in Loudon’s Arboretum.—Eo. t+ Sir W. Jardine gives the following explanation of the Plestor, in the Antiquities of Selborne. It appears to have been left as a sort of redeeming offering by Sir Adam Gordon, in olden times an inhabitant of Selborne, well known in English history during the reign of Henry III., particularly as a leader of the Mountfort faction. Mr. White says :—* As Sir Adam began to advauce in years, he found his mind influenced by the prevailing opinion of the reasonableness and efficacy of prayers for the dead ; and, therefore, in conjunc- tion with his wife Constantia, in the year 1271, granted to the prior and convent of Selborne all his right and claim to a certain place, placea, called La Pleystow, in the village aforesaid, ‘in liberam, puram, et perpetuam elemosinam,’ (for free charitable purposes). This pleystow, locus ludorum, or play-place, is in a level area near the church, of about 44 yards by 36, and is known now by the name of Plestor, It continues still, as it was in old Cc 18 LARGE OAKS. vast oak,* with a short squat tody, and huge horizontal arms, extending almost to the extremity of the area. This venerable tree, surrounded with stone steps, and seats above them, was the delight of old and young, and a place of much resort in summer evenings; where the former sat in grave lebate, while the latter frolicked and danced before them. ‘Long might it have stood, had not the amazing tempest in 1703 overturned it at once, to the infinite regret of the ihabitants, and the vicar, who bestowed several pounds in setting it in its place again: but all his care could not avail ; the tree sprouted for a time, then withered and died. This oak I mention, to show to what a bulk planted oaks also may arrive; and planted this tree must certainly have been, as appears from what is known concerning the antiquities of the village.t times, to be the scene of recreation for the youths and children of the neigh- bourhood ; and impresses an idea on the mind, that this village, even in Saxon times, could not be the most abject of places, when the inhabitants thought groper to assign so spacious a spot for the sports and amusements of its young people.”—W. J. * Two species of oak only are admitted into the British Flora, quercus robur, and sesszliflora. Several others, however, have been introduced, and grow well; the quercus robur is, nevertheless, superior to all of them. The other species are said to be more susceptible of the dry rot.—W. J. + The celebrated Cowthorpe oak, upon an estate near Wetherby, belonging to the Right Hon. Lady Stourton, measures, within three feet of the surface, 16 yards in circumference, and close by the ground, 26 yards. Its height is about 80 feet, and its principal limb extends 16 yards from the boll. The Greendale oak, at a foot from the ground, is in circumference 33 feet 10 inches. The Shire oak covers nearly 707 square yards; the branches stretching into three counties,—York, Nottingham, and Derby. The Fairlop oak in Essex, at a yard from the ground, is 36 feet in circumference. Damory’s oak, in Torsetshire, at the ground, was in circumference 68 feet, and, when decaying, became hollow, forming a cavity capable of containing 20 men. An oak, felled at Withy Park, Shropshire, in 1697, was 9 feet in diameter without the bark. The Baddington oak, in the Vale of Gloucester, was 54 fect in circumference at the base ; and Wallace’s oak, in Torwood, in the county of Stirling, must have been at least 11 or 12 feet in diameter.—W. J. ' The Galynos oak was one of the largest trees of the kind in England on record. It grew in the county of Monmouth. Five men were each twenty days in stripping and cutting it down; and a pair of sawyers were constantly employed 138 days in its conversion. The expense alone of doing this was 82/. The main trunk of the tree was nine feet and a half in diameter. It had been improving for 400 years, as found from the rings in its butt. When standing, it overspread 452 square yards. Its prodv se was 2426 feet of solid timber, as ascertained from the navy office returns. The bark produced 600 pounds,—Eb, 7 3 i ee ba ‘i coat = » * al 3 THe RAVEN (Corvus Coraz.) THE RAVEN TREE. 19 On the .Blackmoor estate there is a small wood called Losel’s, of a few acres, that was lately furnished with a set of oaks of a peculiar growth and great value: they were tall and taper like firs, but, standing near together, had very small heads,—only a little brush, without any large limbs. About twenty years ago, the bridge at the Toy, near Hampton Court, being much decayed, some trees were wanted for the repairs, that were fifty feet long without bough, and would measure twelve inches diameter at the dttle end.* Twenty such trees did a purveyor find in this little wood, with this advantage, that many of them answered the description at sixty feet. These trees were sold for £20 a-piece. In the centre of this grove there stood an oak, which, though shapely and tall on the whole, bulged out into a large excrescence about the middle of the stem. On this a pair of ravens had fixed their residence for such a series of years, that the oak was distinguished by the title of the Raven Tree. Many were the attempts of the neighbouring youths to get at this eyrie: the difficulty whetted their inclinations, and each was ambitious of surmounting the arduous task. But when they arrived at the swelling, it jutted out so in their way, and was so far beyond their grasp, that the most daring lads were awed, and acknowledged the undertaking to be too hazardous. So the ravens built on, nest upon nest, in perfect security, till the fatal day arrived in which the wood was to be levelled. It was in the month of February, when those birds usually sit. The saw was applied to the butt, the wedges were inserted into the opening, the woods echoed to the heavy blows of the beetle, or mallet, the tree nodded to its fall; but still the dam sat on. At last, when it gave way, the bird was flung from her nest ; and, though her parental affection deserved a better fate, was whipped down by the twigs, which brought her dead to the ground.t * The greater part of these trees still support the bridge— Ep. + A similar instance of parental affection occurred, a few years ago, in Richmond Park. Some tall spindly trees had to be taken down. A squirrel had built her dey on the top of one of them, and had just brought forth some young. The axe was applied to the roots of the tree; the cord swayed it backwards and forwards; and at inst it fell ; and the affectionate mother waz killed in the fall, refusing to the last to quit her haplese offspring —Fp. ¢ 2 20 CURIOUS FOSSIL SHELLS. LETTER III. TO THE SAME. THE fossil. shells of this district, and sorts of stone, such as have fallen within my observation, must not be passed over in silence. And, first, I must mention, as a great curiosity, a specimen that was ploughed up in the chalky fields, near the side of the Down, and given to me for the singularity of its appearance, which, to an incurious eye, seems like a petrified fish of about four inches long, the cardo passing for a head and mouth. It is in reality a bivalve of the Linnean genus of mytilis, and the species of crista galli: called by Lister, rastellum ; by Rumphius, ostrewm plicatum minus ; by D’ Argenville, awris porei, s. erista galli ; and by those who make collections, cock’s comb. Though I ap nee to several such in London, I never could meet wit entire specimen ; nor could I ever find in books any nena ing from a perfect one. In the superb museum at Leicester House, permission was given me to examine for this article ; and though I was disappointed as to the fossil, I was highly gratified with the sight of several of the shells themselves in high preservation. This bivalve is only known to inhabit the Indian Ocean, where it fixes itself to a zoophyte, known by the name gorgonia. Cornua ammonis* are very common about this village. As we were cutting an inclining path up the Hanger, the labourers found them frequently on that steep, just under the soil, in the chalk, and of a considerable size. In the lane above Wellhead, in the way to Emshot, they abound in * There is a village in the west of England, remarkable for the quantity it possesses of the * Cornu ammonis.” The name of it is Keynsham, between Bath and Bristol. This has given rise to a fabulous legend, which says that St. Keyna, from whom the place takes its name, resided here in a solitary wood, full of venemous serpents, and her prayers converted them into stones, which still retain their shape.—See Espriella’s Letters from England, vol. iii, p- 362.—Rev. J. Mitrorp. FREESTONE. 21 the bank, in a darkish sort of marl; and are usually very small and soft; but in Clay’s Pond, a little farther on, at the end of the pit, where the soil is dug out for manure, I have occasionally observed them of large dimensions, perhaps fourteen or sixteen inches in diameter. But as these did not consist of firm stone, but were formed of a kind of terra lapidosa, or hardened clay, as soon as they were exposed to the rains and frost, they mouldered away. These seemed as if they were a very recent production. In the chalk-pit, at the north-west end of the Hanger, large nautili are some- times observed. In the very thickest strata of our freestone, and at con- siderable depths, well diggers often find large scallops, or pectines, having both shells deeply striated, and ridged and furrowed alternately. They are highly impregnated with, if not wholly composed of, the stone of the quarry. LETTER IV. TO THE SAME. As, in last letter, the freestone of this place has been only mentioned incidentally, I shall here become more particular. This stone is in great request for hearth-stones, and the beds of ovens.; and in lining of lime-kilns it turns to good account ; for the workmen use sandy loam instead of mortar ; the sand of which fluxes,* and runs, by the intense heat, and so cases over the whole face of the kiln with a strong vitrified coat like glass, that it is well preserved from injuries of weather, and endures thirty or forty years. When chiselled smooth, it makes elegant fronts for houses, equal in colour and grain to the Bath stone; and superior in one respect, that, when seasoned, it does not scale. Decent chimney-pieces are worked from it, of much closer and finer grain than Portland; and rooms are floored with * There may, prebably, be also in the chalk itself, that is burnt for lime & proportion of sand ; for few chalks are so pure as to have none. w 2 SANDSTONE. it; tut it proves rather too soft for this purpose. It is a freestone, cutting in all directions ; yet has something of a grain parallel with the horizon, and therefore should not be ae but laid in the same position that it grows in the quarry.* On the ground abroad this fire- stone will not succeed for pavements, because, probably, some degree of saltness prevailing within it, the rain tears the slabs to pieces.t Though this stone is too hard to be acted on by vinegar, yet both the white part, and even the blue rag, ferment strongly in mineral acids. Though the white stone will not bear wet, yet in every quarry, at intervals, there are thin strata of blue rag, which resist rain and frost, and are excellent for pitching of stables, paths, and courts, and for building of dry walls against banks, a valuable species of fencing, much in use in this village ; and for mending ot roads. This rug is ragged and stubborn, and will not hew to a smooth face; but is very durable: yet, as these strata are shallow, and le deep, large quantities cannot be procured but at considerable expense. Among the blue rags turn up some blocks tinged with a stain of yellow, or rust colour, which seem to be nearly as lasting as the blue; and every now and then balls of a friable substance, like rust of iron, called rust balls. In Wolmer Forest, I see but one sort of stone, cailed by the workmen sand, or forest stone. This is generally of the colour of rusty iron, and might probably bs worked as iron ore; is very hard and heavy, and of a firm, compact texture, and composed of a small roundish crystalline grit, cemented together by a brown, terrene, ferruginous matter ; will not cut without difficulty, nor easily strike fire with steel. Being often found in broad flat pieces, it makes good pavement for paths about houses, never becoming slippery in frost or rain ; is excellent for dry walls, and is sometimes used in buildings. In many parts of that waste, it lies * To surbed stone is to set it edgewise, contrary to the posture it had in the quarry, says Dr. Plot.—Ozfordsh. p.77. But surbedding does not succeed in our dry walls ; neither do we use it so in ovens, though he says it is best for Teynton stone, + “Firestone is full of salts, and has no sulphur ; must be close grained, and have no interstices. Nothing supports fire like salts ; saltetone pene exposed to wet and frost.”—Plot’s Staff. p. 152. MANOR OF SELBORNE. 23 scattered on the surface of the ground; but is dug on Weaver’s Down, a vast hill on the eastern verge of that forest, where the pits are shallow, and the stratum thin. This stone is imperishable. From a notion of rendering their work the more elegant, and giving it a finish, masons chip this stone into small fragments about the size of the head of a large nail, and then stick the pieces into the wet mortar along the joints of their freestone walls. This embellishment carries an odd appearance, and has occasioned strangers sometimes to ask us pleasantly, “ Whether we fastened our walls together with tenpenny nails P”’ LETTER V. TO THE SAME. Among the singularities of this place, the two rocky hollow lanes, the one to Alton, and the other to the forest, deserve our attention. These roads, running tliough the malm lands, are, by the traffic of ages, and the fretting of water, worn down through the first stratum of our freestone, and partly through the second; so that they look more like water-courses than roads; and are bedded with naked rag for furlongs together. In many places they are reduced sixteen or eighteen feet beneath the level of the fields; and, after floods, and in frosts, exhibit very grotesque and wild appearances, from the tangled roots that are twisted among the strata, and from the torrents rushing down their broken sides ; and especially when those cascades are frozen into icicles, hanging in all the fanciful shapes of frost-work. These rugged gloomy scenes affright the ladies when they " down into them, from the paths above, and make timid orsemen shudder while they ride along them; but delight the naturalist with their various botany, and particularly with their curious filices, with which they abound.* * The deep lanes in this part of Hampshire and Sussex are truly charming; from the roots of trees twisting themselves, as they do, in fantastic shapes 24 RAIN. The manor of Selborne, were it strictly looked after, with all its kindly aspects, and all its sloping coverts, would swarm with game: even now, hares, partridges, and phea- sants, abound ; and in old days, woodcocks were as plentifw There are few quails, because they more affect open fields than enclosures; after harvest some few land-rails are seen. The parish of Selborne, by taking in so much of the forest, is a vast district. Those who tread the bounds are employed part of three days in the business, and are of opinion that the outline, in all its curves and indentings, does not comprise less than thirty miles. The village stands in a sheltered spot, secured by the Hanger from the strong westerly winds. The air is soft, but rather moist from the effluvia of so many trees; yet perfectly healthy, and free from agues. The quantity of rain that falls on it is very considerable, as may be supposed in so woody and mountainous a district. As my experience in measuring the water is but of short date, I am not qualified to give the mean quantity.* I only know that Inch. Hund. From May 1, 1779, to the end of the year, there fell . 28 37! From Jan. 1, 1780, to Jan. 1, 1781 : . | Mire From Jan. 1, 1786, to Jan. 1, 1787 5 ; + + Oo) ee The village of Selborne, and large hamlet of Oakhanger, with the single farms, and many scattered houses along the among tke rocky strata»—the quantity of wild flowers,—the pretty mosses covering the rocks and roots,—the trickling water over head,—and the shade afforded by overhanging trees and shrubs.—Eb. * A very intelligent gentleman assures me, (and he speaks from upwards of forty years’ experience), that the mean rain of any place cannot be ascertained till a person has measured it for a very long period. “1f I had only measured the rain,” says he, “for the four first years from 1740 to 1743, I should have said the mean rain at Lyndon was 163 inches for the year; if from 1740 to 1750, 184 inches, The mean rain before 1763 was 205; from 1763 and since, 252; from 1770 to 1780, 26. If only 1773, 1774, and 1775 had been measured, Lyndon mean rain would have been called 32 inches,—increasing from 16°6 to 32. POOR. 25 verge of the forest, contain upwards of six hundred and seventy inhabitants. We abound with poor; many of whom are sober and industrious, and live comfortably, in good stone or brick eottages, which are glazed, and have chambers above stairs ; mud buildings we have none. Besides the employment from husbandry, the men work in hop gardens, of which we have many ; and fell and bark timber. In the spring and summer the women weed the corn; and enjoy a second harvest in September by hop-picking. Formerly, in the dead months, they availed themselves greatly by spinning wool, for making of barragons, a genteel corded stuff, much in vogue at that time for summer wear; and chiefly manufactured at Alton, a neighbouring town, by some of the people called Quakers. The inhabitants enjoy a good share of health and longevity , and the parish swarms with children. LETTER VI. TO THE SAME. SHovtp I omit to describe with some exactness the Forest of Wolmer, of which three-fifths perhaps le in this parish, my account of Selborne would be very imperfect, as it is a district abounding with many curious productions, both animal and vegetable; and has often afforded me much entertainment, both as a sportsman and as a naturalist.* The royal Forest of Wolmer is a tract of land of about seven miles in length, by two and a half in breadth, running nearly from north to south, and is abutted on—to begin to the south, and so to proceed eastward—by the parishes of Greatham, Lysse, Rogate, and Trotton, in the county of Sussex ; by Bramshot, Hedleigh, and Kingsley. This royalty * Wolmer Forest has partly been enclosed and planted by the Crown, and the shooting over it, with the large pond, so often mentioned by Mr. White, leased to Sir Charles Taylor, Bart., of Hollycombe.—Eb. N I6 WOLMER FOREST. consists e.tirely of sand, covered with heath and fern; but is somewhat diversified with hills and dales, without having one standing tree in the whole extent. In the bottoms, where the waters stagnate, are many bogs, which formerly abounded with subterraneous trees; though Dr. Plot says positively,* “that there never were any fallen trees hidden in the mosses of the southern counties.’ But he was mistaken ; for I myself have seen cottages on the verge of this wild district, whose timbers consisted of a black hard wood, looking like oak, which the owners assured me they procured from the bogs by probing the soil with spits, or some such instruments ; but the peat is so much cut out, and the moors have been so well examined, that none has been found of late.t Besides the oak, I have also been shown pieces of fossil-wood, of a paler colour, and softer nature, which the mhabitants called fir; but, upon a nice examination, and trial by fire, I could discover nothing resinous in them: * See his Hist. of Staffordshire. ++ Old people have assured me, that, on a winter’s morning, they have dis covered these trees, in the bogs, by the hoar frost, which lay longer over the space where they were concealed, than on the surrounding morass. Nor does this seem to be a fanciful notion, but consistent with true philosophy. Dr. Hales saith, “ That the warmth of the earth, at some depth under ground, has an influence in promoting a thaw, as well as the change of the weather from a freezing to a thawing state, is manifest, from this observation, viz., Nov. 29, 1731, a little snow having fallen in the night, it was, by eleven the next morning, mostly melted away on the surface of the earth, except in’ several places in Bushy Park, where there were drains dug and covered with earth, on which the snow continued to lie, whether those drains were full ot water or dry ; as also where elm-pipes lay under ground: a plain proof this, that those drains intercepted the warmth of the earth from ascending from greater depths below them; for the snow lay where the drain had more than four feet depth of earth over it. It continued also to lie on thatch, tiles, ana the tops of walls.’—Sce Hales’s Hamastatics, p. 360. Quere, Might not such observations be reduced to domestic use, by promoting the discovery of old obliterated drains and wells about houses ; and, in Roman stations and camps, lead to the finding of pavements, baths, and graves, and other hidden relics of curious antiquity ? I have now in my possession a snuff-box, formerly the property of Sir Walter Scott, on which is the following inscription: “ Oak found near Gordon Castle, twenty feet below the surface of the ground.” From the great age of the wood, it has the appearance of having nearly turned to a substance resembling agate. In a bog in Staffordshire, with which 1am well acquainted, huce oak trees, at a considerable depth, might be found, from the snow having melted away on the sur‘ace.—Eb. BLAcK) GROUSE. WOLMER FOREST.—GAME. 27 and, therefore, rather suppose that they were parts of a willow or alder, or some such aquatic tree.* This lonely domain is a very agreeable haunt for many sorts of wild fowls, which not only frequent it in the winter, but breed there in the summer; such as lapwings, snipes, wild-ducks, and, as I have discovered within these few years, teals. Partridges in vast plenty are bred in good seasons on the verge of this forest, into which they love to make excursions ; and in particular, in the dry summer of 1740 and 1741, and some years after, they swarmed to such a degree, that parties of unreasonable sportsmen killed twenty and sometimes thirty brace in a day.t But there was a nobler species of game in this forest, now extinct, which I have heard old people say abounded much before shooting flymg became so common, and that was the heath-cock, or black game. When I was a little boy, I recollect one coming now and then to my father’s table. The last pack remembered was killed about thirty- five years ago; and within these ten years one solitary grey hen was sprung by some beagles, in beating for a hare. The sportsman cried out, “ A hen pheasant!” but a gentle- man present, who had often seen black game in the north of England, assured me that it was a grey hen. * The remains of trees are found in most of the marshes in Great Britain; but the mosses in the north of England, and all those of Scotland, contain trees often of immense size. These are generally oak, birch, different willows, or alder, and the Scotch fir, panus sylvestris. Being embedded to considerable depths, they are sometimes in a perfect state, and completely saturated with the soil in which they lie. In the Highlands, the Scotch fir abounds, and retains so much resin as to be used for lights during winter, for which purpose it is dug out, dried and split into narrow lengths,—W.J. + Black game may now be found in the forest, and a few grouse.—Eb. = Black game have increased greatly in the southern counties of Scotland end north of England within the last few years. It is a pretty general opinion, though an erroneous one, that they drive away the red grouse; the two species require very different kinds of cover, and will never interfere. It is to be regretted that some of our extensive and wealthy northern proprietors do no attempt the introduction of the wood grouse ; extensive pine or birch forests with quiet, would be all the requisites; and the birds themselves, or their young, could be very easily obtained, and at a trifling expense. In Mr. J. Wilson’s Zoological Illustrations, there is an excellent plate of the tetrao wrophasianus of North America, a very handsome species, which, with some others lately discovered by Mr. Douglas, might be introduced into this country, and form 98 WOLMER FOREST.—RED DEER. Nor does the loss of our black game prove the only gar in the Fauna Selborniensis, or “ Natural History of Sel- borne ;” for another beautiful link in the chain of beings is wanting,—I mean the red-deer,* which, toward the begin- ning of this century, amounted to about five hundred head, and made a stately appearance. There is an old keeper, now alive, named Adams, whose great-grandfather (men- tioned in a perambulation taken in 1635), grandfather, father, and self, enjoyed the head keepership of Wolmer Forest in succession, for more than an hundred years. This person assures me, that his father has often told him that Queen Anne, as she was journeying on the Portsmouth road, did not think the Forest of Wolmer beneath her royal regard. For she came out of the great road at Liphock, which is just by, and reposing herself, on a bank, smoothed for that purpose, lying about half a mile to the east of Wolmer Pond, and still called Queen’s Bank, saw with great complacency and satisfaction the whole herd of red- deer brought by the keepers along the vale before her, consisting then of about five hundred head.f A sight this, worthy the attention of the greatest sovereign! But he farther adds, that, by means of the Waltham blacks, or, to use his own expression, as soon as they began blacking, they were reduced to about fifty head, and so continued decreasing till the time of the late Duke of Cumberland. It is now more than thirty years ago that his highness sent down a huntsman, and six yeoman prickers, in scarlet jackets laced with gold, attended by the stag-hounds, order- a fine addition to our feathered game. The little American partridge, the ortyx borealis of naturalists, has been introduced, and is now plentiful, in some counties in England.—W. J. * Red deer are still to be found in the New Forest, and Her Majesty's buck-hounds are sent there every year to hunt them. One stag a few years ago found near Lyndhurst was taken not far from Salisbury.—Eb. + The following curious fact may be mentioned with respect to red deer, as proving their attachment to favourite localities. The late Duke of Athell, wishing to increase the stock of red deer in his park, took the opportunity of a@ very severe winter to draw the deer from their hills and mountains. This was done by scattering food in a line tothe park, and a great extent of the paling of it was removed. When hunger had thus compelled the deer te enter it, toils were put up, the fencing was replaced and the deer enclosed. They pined away, however, and in two years not one was left alive.—Eb. WULMER FOREST.—RED DEER. 29 mg them to take every deer in this forest ahve, and to convey them in carts to Windsor. In the course of the summer they caught every stag, some of which showed extraordinary diversion; but, in the following winter, when «he hinds were also carried off, such fine chases were exhi- bited as served the country people for matter of talk and wonder for years afterwards. I saw myself one of the yeoman prickers single out a stag from the herd, and must confess that it was the most curious feat of activity I ever beheld,—superior to anything in Mr. Astley’s riding-school. The exertions made by the horse and deer much exceeded all my expectations, though the former greatly excelled the latter in speed. When the devoted deer was separated from his companions, they gave him, by their watches, law, as they called it, for twenty minutes; when, sounding their horns, the stop-dogs were permitted to pursue, and a most gallant scene ensued. LETTER VII. TO THE SAME. TuovuGH large herds of deer do much harm to the neigh- bourhood, yet the injury to the morals of the people is of more moment than the loss of their crops.* The temptation is irresistible ; for most men are sportsmen by constitution: and there is such an inherent spirit for hunting in human nature, as scarce any inhibitions can restrain. Hence, towards the beginning of this century, all this country was wild about deer-stealing. Unless he were a hunter, as they affected to call themselves, no young person was allowed to * Nothing can be more true than these remarks. The state of demoralisa- tion of the people in the neighbourhood of the New Forest, for instance, is beyond what can well be imagined. Deer stealing is a temptation which few of them can resist, and the consequence is idleness, drunkenness, and immorality. The Act of Parliament which removes the deer from the New Forest, will confer a blessing on the whole neighbourhood.—Eb. 30 WOLMER FOREST.—THE BLACK AOT. be possessed of manhood or gallantry. The Waltham blacks at length committed such enormities, that Government was forced to interfere with that severe and sanguinary act called the Black Act,* which now comprehends more felonies than any law that ever was framed before; and, therefore, a late bishop of Winchester, when urged to re-stock Waltham chase,t refused, from a motive worthy of a pre- late, replying, that “It had done mischief enough already.” ~ Our old race of deer-stealers are hardly extinct yet. It was but a little while ago that, over their ale, they used to recount the exploits of their vouth; such as watching the pregnant hind to her lair, and when the calf was dropped, paring its feet with a penknife to the quick, to prevent its escape, till it was large and fat enough to be killed; the shooting at one of their neighbours with a bullet, in a turnip-field, by moonshine, mistaking him for a deer; and the losing a dog in the following extraordinary manner :— Some fellows, suspecting that a calf new-fallen was depo- sited in a certain spot of thick fern, went with a lurcher to surprise it ; when the parent hind rushed out of the brake, and taking a vast spring, with all her feet close together, pitched upon the neck of the dog, and broke it short in two. Another temptation. to idleness and sporting, was a num- ber of rabbits, which possessed all the hillocks and dry places; but these being inconvenient to the huntsmen, on account of their burrows, when they came to take away the deer, they permitted the country people to destroy them all. Such forests'and wastes, when their allurements to irre- arities are removed, are of considerable service to neigh- bourhoods that verge upon them, by furnishing them with peat and turf for their firing; with fuel for the burning their lime; and with ashes for their grasses ; and by main- taining their geese and their stock of young cattle at little or no expense.f * Statute 9 Geo. I. c. 22. + This chase remains unstocked to this day; the bishop was Dr. Hoadley. + This was the case when Mr. White wrote this passage; but alas, since then Parliamentary enactments have deprived the labourers of much of their rights of common, by enclosing them, and thus much of their means of sub- gistence, and consequently of their prosperity, have disappeared. Whenever labour was slack, the common was always a reserve on which the ‘abourer could employ himeelf, by cutting fuel, making brooms, &c.—Eb. WOLMER FOREST.—BURNING HEATH. 81 The manor farm of the parish of Greatham has an admitted claim, I see, by an old record taken from the Tower of London, of turning all live stock on the forest, at proper seasons, bidentibus exceptis, “sheep exvepted.”’ * The reason, I presume, why sheep are excluded is, becaase, being such close grazers, they would pick out all the finest asses, and hinder the deer from thriving. Though (by statute 4 and 5 William and Mary, ec. 23) “to burn on any waste, between Candlemas and Midsummer, any grig, ling, heath and furze, gorse, or fern, is punishable with whipping, and confinement in the house of correction;”’ yet, in this forest, about March or April, according to the ess of the season, such vast heath-fires are lighted up, that they often get to a masterless head, and, catching the hedges, have sometimes been communicated to the under- woods, woods, and coppices, where great damage has ensued. The plea for these burnings is, that, when the old coat of heath, &c., is consumed, young will sprout up, and afford much tender browse for cattle; but where there is large old furze, the fire, following the roots, consumes the very ground; so that for hundreds of acres nothing is to be seen but smother and desolation, the whole circuit round looking like the cinders of a volcano; and, the soil being quite exhausted, no traces of vegetation are to be found for years. These conflagrations, as they take place usually with a north-east or east wind, much annoy this village with their smoke, and often alarm the country; and once, in particular, I remember that a gentleman, who lives beyond Andover, coming to my house, when he got on the downs between that town and Winchester, at twenty-five miles distance, was surprised much with smoke and a hot smell of fire; and concluded that Alresfurd was in flames; but when he came to that town, he then had apprehensions for the next village, and so on to the end of his journey. On two of the most conspicuous eminences of this forest, stand two arbours, or bowers, made of the boughs of oaks ; the one called Waldon Lodge, the other Brimstone Lodge ; these the keepers renew annually on the feast of St. Barnabas, * For this privilege the cwner of that estate used to pay to the king annuall? seven bushels of oats. 32 WOLMER FOREST. takiag the old materials for a perquisite. The farm called Blackmoor, in this parish, is obliged to find the posts and brushwood for the former; while the farms at Greatham, in rotation, furnish for the latter; and are all enjoined to cut and deliver the materials at the spot. This custom I mention, because I look upon it to be of very remote antiquity. LETTER VIII. TO THE SAME. On the verge of the forest, as it is now circumscribed, are three considerable lakes ; two in Oakhanger, of which I have nothing particular to say; and one called Bin’s, or Bean’s Pond, which is worthy the attention of a naturalist or a sportsman; for, being crowded at the upper end with willows, and with the carex cespitosa, “clumpy sedge,”’* it affords such a safe and pleasant shelter to wild ducks, teals, snipes, &c. that they breed there. In the winter this covert is also frequented by foxes, and sometimes by pheasants; and the bogs produce many curious plants. | . a perambulation of Wolmer Forest and the Holt, made in 1635, and the eleventh year of Charles the First, (which now lies before me,) it appears that the limits of the former are much circumscribed. For, to say nothing of the farther side, with which I am not so well acquainted, the bounds on this side, in old times, came into Binswood, and extended to the ditch of Ward-le-ham Park, in which stands the curious mount, called King John’s Hill, and Lodge Hill, and to the verge of Hartley Mauduit, called Mauduit-hatch ; comprehending also Shortheath, Oakhanger, and Oak-woods ; — a large district, now private property, though once belonging to the royal domain. * I mean that sort which, rising into tall hassocks, is called by the foresters torrets ; a corruption I suppose of turrets. Wild ducks and teal also breed in the thick heather in the neighbour hood.— Eb. + For which: cousult Letter pxxxiv. to Mr. Barrington. WOLMER POND. 33 It is remarkable, that the term purliewis never once men tioned in this long roll of parchment. It contains, besides the perambulation, a rough estimate of the value of the timbers, which were considerable, growing at that time in the district of the Holt; and enumerates the officers, superior and inferior, of those joint forests, for the time being, and their ostensible fees and perquisites. In those days, as at present, there were hardly any trees in Wolmer Forest. Within the present limits of the forest are three con- siderable lakes, Hogmer, Cranmer, and Wolmer; all of which are stocked with carp, tench, eels, and perch: but the fish do not thrive well, because the water is hungry, and the bottoms are a naked sand. A circumstance respecting these ponds, though by no means peculiar to them, I cannot pass over in silence: and that is, that instinct by which in summer all the kine, whether oxen, cows, calves, or heifers, retire constantly to the water during the hotter hours; where, bemg more exempt from flies, and inhaling the coolness of that element, some belly deep, and some only to mid-leg, they ruminate and solace themselves from about ten in the morning till four in the afternoon, and then return to their feeding. During this great proportion of the day, they drop much dung, in which insects nestle, and so supply food for the fish, which would be poorly subsisted, but for this contingency.* Thus Nature, who is a great economist, converts the recre- ation of one animal to the support of another! Thomson, who was a nice observer of natural occurrences, did not let this pleasing circumstance escape him. He says in his Swmmer,— “ A various group the herds and flocks compose: on the grassy bank, Some rumixating lie; while others stand Half in the dood, and, often bending, sip The circling surface.” Wolmer Pond, so called, I suppose, for eminence sake, 1s * This passage proves what an accurate observer Mr. White was of appa- rently trifling facts and circumstances in natural history. He might have added to the above that so economical is Nature, that when cattle are standing in the water, they whisk off vast quantities of flies, which are greedily devoured by the fish which assemble about them, and these, more than the dung, supp! them with food.—En. c 34 AYLES HOLT. a vast lake for this part of the world, containing in its whole circumference, 2649 yards, or very near a mile and a half. The length of the north-west and opposite side is about 704 yards and the breadth of the south-west end about 456 yards. This measurement, which I caused to be made with good exactness, gives an area of about sixty-six acres, exclusive of a large irregular arm at the north-east corner, which we did not take into the reckoning. On the face of this expanse of waters, and perfectly secure from fowlers, le all day long, in the winter season, vast flocks of ducks, teals, and widgeons, of various denominations; where they preen, and solace, and rest themselves, till towards sunset, when they issue forth in little parties—for in their natural state they are all birds of the night—to feed in the brooks and meadows: returning again with the dawn of the morming! Had this lake an arm or two more, and were it planted round with thick covert (for now it is per- fectly naked), it might make a valuable decoy. Yet neither its extent, nor the clearness of its water, nor the resort of various and curious fowls, nor its picturesque groups of cattle, can render this mere so remarkable, as the great quantity of coins that were found in its bed about forty years ago.* LETTER IX. TO THE SAME. By way of supplement, I shall trouble you once more on this subject, to inform you that Wolmer, with her sister forest Ayles Holt, alias Alice Holt,t as it is called in old records, is held by grant from the crown for a term of years. * Some of these coins came afterwards into the possession of the author.- They were all copper, part were of Marcus Aurelius, and the Empress Faustina, his wife, the father and mother of Commodus.—W. J. + “In Rot, Inquisit. de statu forest. in Scaccar. 36 Ed. IIL,” it is called Aisholt. In the same, “ Tit. Woolmer and Aisholt Hantisc. Dominus Rex habet unam capellam in hata sua de Kingesle.” “ Haia, sepes, sepimentumy parcus ; a Gall. have and haye.”—Spretman’s Glossary. Tur FaLtLow Derr. (Cervus dama.) AYLES HOLT. 35 - The grantees that the author remembers, are,—Brigadier- General Emanuel Scroope Howe, and his lady, Ruperta, who was a natural daughter of Prince Rupert, by Margaret Hughs; a Mr. Mordaunt, of the Peterborough family, who married a dowager Lady Pembroke; Henry Bilson Legge and lady ; and now Lord Stawel, their son.* The lady of General Howe lived to an advanced age, long surviving her husband; and, at her death, left behind her many curious pieces of mechanism of her father’s construct- ing, who was a distinguished mechanic and artist,? as well as warrior: and, among the rest, a very complicated clock, lately in possession of Mr. Elmer, the celebrated game painter at Farnham, in the county of Surrey. Though these two forests are only parted by a narrow range of enclosures, yet no two soils can be more different ; for the Holt consists of a strong loam, of a miry nature, carrying a good turf, and abounding with oaks that grow to be large timber ; while Wolmer is nothing but a hungry, sandy, barren waste. The former, being all in the parish of Binsted, is abcut two miles in extent from north to south, and near as much from east to west, and contains within it many woodlands and lawns, and the Great Lodge where the grantees reside, and a smaller lodge called Goose Green ; and is abutted on by the parishes of Kingsley, Frinsham, Farnham, and Bentley, all of which have right of common. One thing is remarkable, that, though the Holt has been of old well stocked with fallow-deer, unrestrained by any pales or fences more than a common hedge, yet they were never seen. within the limits of Wolmer; nor were the red deer of Wolmer ever known to haunt the thickets or glades of the Holt. At present the deer of the Holt are much thinned and reduced by the night-hunters, who perpetually harass them, * At Lord Stawel’s death, the property reverted to Heneage Legge, Esq., afterwards to the Hon. Henry Legge and the Hon. and Rev. Augustus Legge, at whose death it was inherited by his eldest son.—Eb. + Prince Rupert has long been the reputed inventor of mezzotinto, but it 1s proved on sufficient authority that he was merely the introducer of the art into thiscountry. The invention was made in 1642, by a Dutchman named Lud- wig von Siegen, who communicated it to Prince Rupert about the year 1654. See full particulars in Bohn’s edition of Walpole’s Anecdotes of Painter: and Engravers, vol. iii. p. ¢23.—Eb. D2 86 SWALLOWS. in spite of the efforts of numerous reefers, and the severe penalties that have been put in force against them, as often as they have been detected, and rencered liable to the lash of the law. Neither fines nor imprisonments can deter them; so impossible is it to extinguish the spirit of sporting, which seems to be inherent in human nature.* General Howe turned out some German wild boars and sows in his forests, to the great terror of the neighbourhood ; and, at one time, a wild bull, or buffalo: but the country rose upon them, and destroyed them. A very large fall of timber, consisting of about one thousand oaks, has been cut this spring (viz. 1784), in the Holt Forest; one-fifth of which, it is said, belongs to the erantee, Lord Stawel. He lays claim also to the lop and top ; but the poor of the parishes of Binsted and Frinsham, Bentley and Kingsley, assert that it belongs to them; and, assembling in a riotous manner, have actually taken it all away. One man, who keeps a team, has carried home for his share, forty stacks of wood. Forty-five of these people his lordship has served with actions. These trees, which were very sound, and in high perfection, were winter cut, viz. in February and March, before the bark would run. In old times, the Holt was estimated to be eighteen miles, computed measure, from water carriage, viz. from the town of Chertsey, on the Thames; but now it is not half that distance, since the Wey is made navigable up to the town of Godalming, in the county of Surrey. LETTER X. TO THE SAME. August 4, 1767, Ir has been my misfortune never to have had any neighbours whose studies have led them towards the pursuit of natural knowledge; so that, for want of a companion to quicken my industry and sharpen my attention, I have made but slender progress in a kind of information to which I have been attached from my childhood. * There are now no deer in either Holt or Woolmer Forest.— Em SWALLOWS. 37 As to swallows (hirundines rustice) being found in a torpid state during the winter, in the Isle of Wieht, or any part of this country, I never heard any such. account worth attending to. But a clergyman, of an inquisitive turn, assures me, that when he was a great boy, some workmen, tn pulling down the battlements of a church tower early in the spring, found two or three swifts (hirwndines apodes) among the rubbish, which were at first appearance dead ; but, on being carried toward the fire, revived. He told me that, out of his great care to preserve them, he put them in a paper bag, and hung them by the kitchen fire, where they were suffocated. Another intelligent person has informed me that, while he was a schoolboy at Brighthelmstone, in Sussex, a great frag- ment of the chalk cliff fell down, one stormy winter, on the beach, and that many people found swallows among the rubbish ; but, on my questioning him whether he saw any of those birds himself, to my no small disappointment he answered me in the negative; but that others assured hir they did. Young broods of swallows began to appear this year on July the 11th, and young martins (hirwndines urbice) were then fledged in their nests. Both species will breed again once; for I see by my Fauna of last year, that young broods came forth so late as September the 18th.* Are not these * Tt will be seen in perusing this work that Mr. White constantly enter- tained the idea that swallows occasionally hybernated in this country, although he has failed in bringing forward any conclusive proof of the fact. We cannot but regret that that he was not acquainted with the following very interesting one, communicated to the editor by a lady of the highest respectability, who not only witnessed it herself, but it was also seen by several members of her own family. I will relate itin her own words: “A pair of swallows built their nest early in the summer, close to the iron- stay of a water-spout, running in the direction from my bed-rooin window. 1 could observe their proceedings as I lay in bed, and also from various parts of my room After the first hatch had taken flight, the parent birds repaired the nest and sat again. The young ones were brought to life in September, and were able, early in October, to leave the nest for the spout or the roof of the house. They took a short flight across the court, but were too weak to depart when the rest of these birds are supposed to quit our Island. Having taken great interest in watching these little birds, I was led to wonder how the young ones would manage, or whether they would be left to starve. To my great surprise I found the old birds carrying mud one morning, and most carefully closing the aperture of the nest usxm the young ones who were then 38 THE FLY-CATCHER. late hatchings more in favour of hiding than migration P Nay, some young martins remained in their nests last year so late as September the 29th; and yet they totally disap- peared with us by the 5th of October. How strange it is, that the swift, which seems to live exactly the same life with the swallow and house- -martin, should leave us before the middle of August invariably ! while the latter stay often till the middle of October; and once I saw numbers of house-martins on the 7th of Novem- ber.* The martins and red-wing fieldfares were flymg in sight together; an uncommon assemblage of summer and winter birds! A little yellow bird} (it is either a species of the alauda trivialis, or rather, perhaps, of the motacilla trochilus) still continues to make a sibilous shivering noise in the tops of tall woods. The stoparola of Ray (for which we have as yet no name in these parts) is called, in your Zoology, the fly- catcher. There is one circumstance characteristic of this bird, which seems to have escaped observation ; and that is, it takes its stand on the top of some stake, or post, from whence it springs forth on its prey, catching a fly in the air, and hardly ever touching the ground, but returning still to the same stand for many times together.t I perceive there are more than one species of the motacilla in it. It was most effectually stopped. As the spring approached I diligentlv watched the little prisoners or rather their prison. Early in April I heard a slight twittering. This continued for some days, and I then inspected the nest and found a small hole about the size of a pea. This day by day increased, and at length three swallows emerged from their winter habitation. At first they appeared weak, but in a few days they gained strength, and after a flight always returned to the same place, and rested there during the night. The nest is still preserved. A brood has been hatched again this year, and another nest built on the next stay of the spout, nearer to my window.” It is curious that Mr. White and Mr. Daines Barrington, who were se strongly inclined in favour of the torpidity of swallows, should not have been . able to bring forward one decided fact to prove their favourite idea.—Eb. * This may be accounted for by the swifts having only one brood and when they can fly, both old and young migrate. The purpose for which they came to this country has been fulfilled.—Eb. t It is the grasshopper-lark.— Ep. + Nothing can be more graceful or pretty than the action of this bird in taking flies. 1 have seen the young seated in a row on arail, and fed by their parents in succession, darting at flies as mentioned by Mr. White—Ep THe WATER Rat. (Arvicola amphibia.) WATER RATS. 39 trochilus: Mr. Derham supposes, in Ray’s Philosophical Letters, that he has discovered three. In these, there is again an instance of some very common birds that have as yet no English name. Mr. Stillingfleet makes a question whether the black-cap (motacilla atr -acapilla) be a bird of passage or not. I think there is no doubt of it; for in April, in the first fine weather, they come trooping all at once in these parts, but are never seen in the winter. They are delicate songsters. Numbers of snipes* breed every summer in some moory ground on the verge of this parish. It is very amusing to see the cock bird on wing at that time, and to hear his piping and humming notes. _ I have had no opportunity yet of procuring any of those uice which | mentioned to you in town. The person that brought me the last says they are plenty in harvest, at which time I will take care to get more ; and will endeavour to put the matter out of doubt, whether it be a nondescript Species or not. I suspect much there may be two species of water-rats.+ Ray says, and Linnezus after him, that the water-rat is web- footed behind. Now, I have discovered a rat on the banks of our little stream that is not web-footed, and yet is an excel- lent swimmer and diver: it answers exactly to the mus am- phibius of Linneus (see Syst. Nat.), which, he says, “ natat in fossis et urinatur,’ “ swims and dives in the water.” I should be glad to procure one “plantis palmatis,”’ “with webbed feet.” Linnzus seems to be in a puzzle about his mus amphibius, “amphibious mouse,” and to doubt whether it differs from his mus terrestris, “land mouse,’ which, if it be, as he allows, the “mus agrestis capite grandi brachyuros,” “ short-tailed, large-headed field-mouse,” of Ray, is widely different from the water-rat, both in size, make, and manner of life. * Both snipes and woodcocks breed freely in the neighbourhood of Woolmer Forest. The latter have always four eggs, which are generally deposited on a dry bank. As soon as the eggs are hatched, the young are conveyed to wet swampy grounds. Sir Charles Taylor of Hollycombe, for many years past, has had a couple of young woodcocks on his table on the 25th of June.—Eb. ‘+ Many persons in the neighbourhood of the river Thames have supposed that there were two varieties of water-rats. This has arisen from the cireums stance of the common Norway rat having been seen swimming to the aits on - the river, and attacking and destroving the water-rats,—Eb. 40 _ HOOPOES. As to the falco, which I mentioned in town, I| shall taka the liberty to send it down to you into Wales; presuming on your candour, that you will excuse me if it should appear as familiar to you as it is strange to me. Though mutilated, “gualem dices... antehac fuisse, tales cum sint reliquie !” “what would you say it was before, when such are the remains ?”’ It haunted a marshy piece of ground in quest of wild ducks and snipes; but, wher it was shot, had just knocked down a rook, which it was tearing in pieces. I cannot make it answer to any of our English hawks ; neither could I find any like it at the curious exhibition of stuffed birds in Spring Gardens. I found it nailed up at the end of a barn, which is the countryman’s museum. The parish I live in is a very abrupt uneven country, full of hills and woods, and therefore full of birds. LETTER XI. TO THE SAME. Se.sorne, September 9, 1764 Ir will not be without impatience that I shall wait for your thoughts with regard to the falco ; as to its weight, breadth, &e., | wish I had set them down at the time; but, to the best of my remembrance, it weighed two pounds and eight ounces, and measured, from wing to wing, thirty-eight inches. Its cere and feet were yellow, and the circle of its eyelids a bright yellow. As it had been killed some days, and the eyes were sunk, I could make no good observation on the colour of the pupils and the trades. The most unusual birds I ever observed in these parts were a pair of hoopoes, (wpupa,)* which came several years ago in the summer, and frequented an ornamental piece ot * A pair of hoopoes have bred for many years in an old ash tree, on the grounds of a lady in Sussex near Chichester. Numbers of them are sold in the markets in Paris. —ED. Tur Hooror. (Upupa epops.) GROSSBEAKS. 41 greund, which joins to my garden, for some weeks. They used to march about in a stately marner, feeding in the walks, many times in the day; and seemed disposed ‘ to breed in my outlet; but were frightened and persecuted by idle boys, who would never let them be at rest.* Three grossbeaks (lowia coccothraustes) appeared some years ago in my fields, in the winter; one of which I shot. Since that, now and then, one 1s occasionally seen in the same faa season.t A crossbill (loata eurvirostra) was killed last year in this neighbourhood. Our streams, which are small, and rise only at the end of * Specimens have been killed at different times in this country, and instances are even recorded of their having even bred; the species, however, can only be placed among our occasional visitants. The specimen from which the figure in Mr. Selby’s elegant Illustrations of British Ornithology was drawn, was taken on the coast, near Bamborough Castle, Northumberland, Colonel Montague mentions a pair that began a nest in Hampshire, and Dr. Latham records a young hoopoe shot in the month of June. The species is abundantly met with in the south of Europe; it also occurs in Holland, Germany, Denmark and Sweden. In the winter it retires to Asia or Africa, where it is also a permanent resident.—W. J. One specimen was shot in the county of Dublin, and another in the county of Tipperary, in 1828. Loudon’s Magazine.—W. J. + This also can only be placed as an occasional visitant, appearing most frequently in the southern counties of England, during hard and stormy winters. Mr. White (as we learn from the Naturalist’s Calendar and Miscellaneous Observations, published in a separate volume, since the author’s decease, by Dr. Aikin, and to which we shall ocvasionally refer) met with this species at different times, and found it feeding on the stones of damson plums, that still remained on and about the trees in his garden. This species forms the type of the genus coccothraustes.—“ On the 14th May, 1828, the nest of a hawfinch was taken in an orchard belonging to Mr. Waring, at Chelsfield, Kent. The old female was shot on the nest, which was of a slovenly loose form, and shallow, not being so deep as those of the greenfinch or linnet, and was placed against the large bough of an apple- tree, about ten feet from the ground. It was composed externally of dead twigs and a few roots, mixed with coarse white moss, or lichen, and lined with horse-hair and a little fine dried grass. The eggs were five in number, about the size of a skylark’s, but shorter and rounder, and spotted with bluish ash and olive brown, some of the spots inclining to dusky or brackish brown. The markings were variously distributed on the different eggs.” J.C. Loudon, Jour. of Nat. Hist—W. J. They are by no means uncommon birds in this country. Many of them breed among the Horn-beam pollards in Eppimg and Waltham Forests.— Eb, 49, FISH.—OWLS. the vilage, yield nothing but the bull’s head, or muiller’s thumb (gobius fluviatilis capitatus),* the trout (trutta fluvia- tilis), the eel (anguilla),+ the lampern (lampetra parva et Jtwwiatilis), ard the stickle-back (pisciculus aculeatus).t We are twenty miles from the sea, and almost as many from a great river, and therefore see but little of sea birds. As to wild fowls, we have a few teams of ducks bred in the moors where the snipes breed; and multitudes of widgeons and teals, in hard weather, frequent our lakes in the forest. - Having some acquaintance with a tame brown owl, I find that it casts up the fur of mice and the feathers of birds in pellets, after the manner of hawks: when full, like a dog, it hides what it cannot eat. The young of the barn-owl are not easily raised, as they want a constant supply of fresh mice; whereas the young of the brown owl will eat indiscriminately all that is brought; snails, rats, kittens, puppies, magpies, and any kind of carrion or offal. The house-martins have eggs still, and squab young. The last swift I observed was about the 21st of August: it was a straggler. _Redstarts, fly-catchers, white-throats, and reguli non cristati, still appear; but I have seen no black-caps lately. _ I forgot to mention, that I once saw in Christ Church College quadrangle, in Oxford, on a very sunny warm morn- ing, a house-martin flying about and settling on the parapet, so late as the 20th of November. _ * The miller’s thumb is found in nearly every river and brook in England. It harbours under stones, which the flatness of its head enables it to de.—Ep. _ + Mr. Yarrel, a most accurate aud observant naturalist, in a number of the Zoological Journal, hints at the possibility of two species of ‘eels being natives of this country. In this I certainly think Mr. Yarrel correct, their similarity rendering them easily confused. The species with which the London markets are supplied from Holland, may also be discovered, as our researches in the ichthyology of Great Britain, so long comparatively neglected, become more frequent. The grig of Pennant, which seems to be Mr. Yarrel’s second species, appears in the Thames, at Oxford, at a different season from the common eel.—W. J. There are three species of Eels in our fresh waters—the sharp and the broad-nosed eels and the Snig, which the editor had the pleasure of introducing, to the notice of his friend, Mr. Yarrell.—Eb. t There are six distinct kir ds of sticklebacks.—Epb. BATS. 43 At present, I know only two species of bats, the common vespertilio murinus, and the vespertilio awribus.* J was much entertained last summer with a tame bat,t which would take flies out of a person’s hand. If you gave * Dr. Fleming, in his Description of British Animals, 1828, enumerates seven species included in the genera 7/inolophus, or those having membranes upon the nose; vespertilio, including our common bat; and plecotus, those with large ears.—W. J. There are from twenty to twenty-three varieties of bats found in this country. It is curious that so observant a naturalist as Mr. White should only know of two.—Eb. + We are indebted to Mr. George Daniell for the following particulars of the habits of two species of British bats, which were kept by him in confinement. They were originally given to me as a commentary on the statement in the text; but were subsequently communicated, at my request, to the Zoological Society at its meeting on November 11, 1834. “In July, 1833,” Mr. Daniell says, “I received five specimens of the pipistrelle bat from Elvetham, Hants; all of which were pregnant females, There were many more congregated with them in the ruins of the barn in which they were taken; but the rest escaped. They were brought to me in a tin powder canister, in which they had been kept for several days ; and on turning them loose into a common packing-case, with a few strips of deal nailed over its front to form a cage, they pleased me much by the great activity which they displayed in the larger space into which they had been introduced ; progressing rapidly along the bottom of the box, ascending by the bars to the top, and then throwing themselves off as if endeavouring to fly. I caught some flies and offered one of them to one of the bats, which seized it with the greatest eagerness, and devoured it greedily, and then thrust its nose repeatedly through the bars, with its jaws extended, closing them from time to time, with a snap, and evincing the utmost arxiety to obtain an additional supply of this agreeable food. The flies were then offered to the whole of them, and the same ravenous disposition was displayed ; all the bats crowding together at the end of the box at which they were fed, and crawling over, snapping at, and biting each other like so many curs, uttering at the same time a disagreeable grating squeak. I soon found that my pets were so hungry as to require more time to be expended in fly-catching than I was disposed to devote to them; and I then tried to feed them with cooked meat: but this they rejected. Raw beef was, however, eaten with avidity ; and an evident preference was given to those pieces which had been . moistened with water. The feeding with beef answered exceedingly well, two objects being gained by it: the bats were enabled to feed without assistance - and my curiosity was gratified by observing them catching flies for themse.ves, “ A slice of beef attached to the side of the box in which they were kept not only spared me the trouble of feeding them, but also, by attracting the flies, afforded good sport in observing the animals obtain their own food by this new kind of bat-fowling. The weather being warm, many blue-bottle flies were attracted by the meat; ana on one of these approaching within range of the bats’ wings, it was sure to be struck down by their action, the 4:4 BATS. it anything to eat, it brought its wings round before’ the mouth, hovering and hiding its head in the manne: although the sun was shining Ep . The Rat. (Mus decumanius.) SINGING BIRDS. 108 region of the air; and that is the reason I never could pro- cure one.* Now, this is exactly the case with the switts ; for they take their food in a more exalted region than the other species, and are very seldom seen hawking for flies near the ground, or over the surface of the water. From hence I would conclude, that these hAirundines, and the larger bats, are supported by some sorts of high-flying gnats, scarabs, or phalene, that are of short continuance, and that the short stay of these strangers is regulated by the defect of their food. By my journal it appears that curlews clamoured on to October the thirty-first, since which I have not seen or heard any. Swallows were observed on to November the third. LETTER XXIX. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. SELBORNE, Jan. 15, 1770. Dear Si1r,—lIt was no small matter of satisfaction to me to find that you were not displeased with my little methodus, or systematic table of birds. If there was any merit in the sketch, it must be owing to its punctuality. For many months I carried a list in my pocket of the birds that were to be remarked, and as I rode or walked about my business, I noted each day the continuance or omission of each bird’s song, so that I am as sure of the certainty of my facts as a man can be of any transaction whatsoever. I shall now proceed to answer the several queries which you put in your two obliging letters, in the best manner that Lam able. Perhaps Eastwick, and its environs, where you heard so very few birds, is not a woodland country, and, therefore, not stocked with such songsters. If you will cast * Mr. White has the merit of first noticing this species in England: it ia the vespertilio noctula of Dr. Fleming, and said by that naturalist to winter in Italy. —W. J. 106 BIRDS IN CAGES. your eye on my last letter, you will find that many species continued to warble after the beginning of July. The titlark and yellow-hammer breed late, the latter very sate; and, therefore, it is no wonder that they protract their song; for I lay it down as a maxim in ornithology, that as long as there is any incubation going on, there is music. As to the red-breast and wren, it is well known to the most incurious observer that they whistle the year round, hard frost excepted ; especially the latter. It was not in my power to procure you a black-cap, or a Jess reed-sparrow, or sedge-bird, alive. As the first is undoubtedly, and the last, as far as I can yet see, a summer bird of passage, they would require more nice and curious management in a cage than I should be able to give them: they are both distinguished songsters. The note of the former has such a wild sweetness that it always brings to my mind those lines in a song in “ As You Like It :”— And tune his merry note Unto the wild bird’s throat. The latter has a surprising variety of notes, resembling the song of several other birds; but then it has also a hurrying manner, not at all to its advantage. It is, notwithstanding, a delicate polyglot. It is new to me that titlarks in cages sing in the night; perhaps only caged birds do so. I once knew a tame red- breast in a cage that always sang as long as candles were in — the room; but in their wild state no one supposes they sing in the night. I should be almost ready to doubt the fact, that there are to be seen much fewer birds in July than in any former month, notwithstanding so many young are hatched daily. Sure I am, that it is far otherwise with respect to the swallow tribe, which increases prodigiously as the summer advances; and I saw at the time mentioned, many hundreds of young wagtails on the banks of the Cherwell, which almost covered the meadows. Ifthe matter appears, as you say, in the other species, may it not be owing to the dams being engagel in incubation, while the voung are concealed by the leaves ? Nea ety ~~ 1, ay ny A, & 7 Cae ene ih a. ys A mn 4 | yy axel Pare '¢ ee. - : Tne Cuckoo. YHE CUCKOO. 107 Many times have i had the curiosity to open the stomachs of woodcocks and snipes; but nothing ever occurred that helped to explain to me what their subsistence might be; all that I could ever find was a soft mucus, among which lay many pellucid small gravels. LETTER XXX. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Feb. 19, 1770. Dear Srr,—Your observation, that “the cuckoo does not deposit its egg indiscriminately in the nest of the first bird that comes in its way, but probably looks out a nurse in some degree congenerous, with whom to entrust its young,”’* is perfectly new to me; and struck me so forcibly, that I naturally fell into a train of thought that led me to consider whether the fact were so, and what reason there was for it. When I came to recollect and inquire, I could not find that any cuckoo had ever been seen in these parts, except in the nest of the wagtail, the hedge-sparrow, the titlark, the white- throat and the red-breast, all soft-billed insectivorous birds | The excellent Mr. Willughby mentions the nest of the palumbus, (ring-dove,) and of the fringilla, (chaffinch,) birds that subsist on acorns and grains, and such hard food; but then he does not mention them as of his own knowledge; but says afterwards, that he saw himself a wagtail feeding a cuckoo. It appears hardly possible that a soft-billed bird * Providence, or rather the great Creator, who does everything for the best, has so ordained it that the cuckoo only deposits its eggs in those nests in which the young will be fed with the food most congenial with their nature, in fact in those of birds strictly insectivorous. It is a curious fact, and one I believe not hitherto noticed by naturalists, that the cuckoo deposits its egg in the nest of the titlark, robin, wagtail, &c., by means of its foot. If the bird sat on the nest while the egg was laid, the weight of its body would crush the nest, and cause it to be forsaken, and thus one of the ends of Providence would be defeated. I have found the eggs of a cuckoo in the nest of a white-throat, built in so small a hole in a garden wall that it was absolutely impossible for the cuckoo to have got into it.—Eb, LOS THE CUCKOO. should subsist on the same food with the hard-biled ; for the former have thin membranaceous stomachs suited to their soft food ; while the latter, the granivorous tribe, have strong muscular gizzards, which, like mills, grind, by the help of small gravels and pebbles, what is swallowed. This proceed- ing of the cuckoo, of dropping its eggs as it were by chance, is such a monstrous outrage on maternal affection, one of the first great dictates of nature, and such a violence on instinct, that had it only been related of a bird in the Brazils or Peru, it would never have merited our belief.* But yet, should it farther appear that this simple bird, when divested of that natural oropyy that seems to raise the kind in general above themselves, and inspire them with extraordinary degrees of cunning and address, may be still endued with a more en- larged faculty of discerning what species are suitable and congenerous nursing mothers for its disregarded eggs and young, and may deposit them only under their care, this would be adding wonder to wonder, and instancing, in a fresh manner, that the methods of Providence are not sub- jected to any mode or rule, but astonish us in new lights, and in various and changeable appearances. What was said by a very ancient and sublime writer con- cerning the defect of natural affection in the ostrich, may be well applied to the bird we are talking of :— “She is hardened against her young ones, as though they were not hers: “ Because God hath deprived her of wisdom, neither hath he imparted to her understanding.” + Query. Does each female cuckoo lay but one egg in a season, or does she drop several in different nests, according as opportunity offers P f * If the cuckoo made a nest as other birds do, and fed and brought up its young in the usual way, would not the harsh note of the male bird lead to the easy discovery of the nest, and thus the breed might be extinguished >—Ep, 7 Sop Seeix. 10, 17. t It is now known from the examination of the ovarium, that the cuckoe lays several egys.—Ep. MEDGEHOGS, 109 LETTER XXXTI. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. SELBORNE, Feb. 22, 1770. Drax Srr,—Hedge-hogs* abound in my gardens and fields. The manner in which they eat the roots of the plan- tain in my grass walks is very curious: with their upper mandible, which is much longer than their lower, they bore under the plant, and so eat the root off upwards, leaving the tuft of leaves untouched. In this respect they are service- able, as they destroy a very troublesome weed: but they deface the walks in some measure by digging little round holes. It appears, by the dung that they drop upon the turf, that beetles are no inconsiderable part of their food, In June last, I procured a litter of four or five young hedge- hogs, which appeared to be about five or six days old; they, I find, like puppies, are born blind, and could not see when they came to my hands.t No doubt their spines are soft and flexible at the time of their birth, or else the poor dam would have but a bad time of it in the critical moment of parturi- tion: but it is plain that they soon harden ; for these little pigs had such stiff prickles on their backs and sides, as would easily have fetched blood, had they not been handled with caution. Their spines are quite white at this age; and they have little hanging ears, which I do not remember * The hedge-hog feeds indiscriminately on flesh and vegetables, is very fond of eggs, doing considerable mischief by destroying game during the breeding season. It will even enter a hen-house, and, when within its reach, will turn off the hens, and devour the eggs. They are frequently caught in traps, baited with eggs, for the carrion crows. They are easily tamed, and become very familiar in a state of confinement; will eat bread, potatoes, fruit, flesh—raw or cooked—without any apparent choice.—W.J. They will soon learn to distinguish the person by whom they are fed, and will uncoil themselves at the sound of his yoice.—W. C. T, + The young are frequently detected and killed by keepers. The incessant cry they make for their mother when hungry, leads to their discovery. Iam assured that the old hedge-hogs hunt eagerly for cockchafers which have dropped from the oaks in Richmond park.—Eb, 110 FIELDFARES——MOOSE-DEER. to be discernible in the old ones. They can, in part, at this age, draw their skin down over their faces; but are not able to contract themselves into a ball, as they do, for the sake of defence, when full grown. The reason, I suppose, is, because the curious muscle, that enables the creature to roll itsef up in a ball, was not then arrived at its full tone and firmness. Hedge-hogs make a deep and warm hybernaculum with leaves and moss, in which they conceal themselves for the winter; but I never could find that they stored in any winter provision, as some quadrupeds certaimly do. I have discovered an anecdote with respect to the fieldfare (turdus pilaris), which, I think, is particular enough: this bird, though it sits on trees in the day-time, and procures the greatest part of its food from white-thorn hedges; yea, moreover, builds on very high trees, as may be seen by the fauna suecica; yet always appears with us to roost on the ground. They are seen to come in flocks just before it is dark, and to settle and nestle among the heath in our forest. And besides, the larkers, im dragging their nets by night, frequently catch them in the wheat-stubbles ; while the bat fowlers, who take many red-wings in the hedges, never entangle any of this species. Why these birds, m the matter of roosting, should differ from all their congeners, and from themselves, also, with respect to their proceedings by day, is a fact for which I am by no means able to account. I have somewhat to inform you of concerning the moose- deer; but, in general, foreign animals fall seldom in my way; my little intelligence is confined to the narrow sphere of my own observations at home. LETTER XXXII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, March, 1770, Ox Michaelmas-day, 1768, I managed to get a sight of the feniale moose belonging to the Duke of Richmond, at Good- wood; but was greatly disappointed, when I arrived at the spot, to find that it had died, after having appeared in a languishing way for some time, on the morning before. MOOSE-DEER. 32 However, understanding that 1t was not stripped, I pro- ceeded to examine this rare quadruped: I found it in an old greenhouse, slung under the belly and chin by ropes, and in a standing posture; but, though it had been dead for so short a time, it was in so putrid a state that the stench was hardly supportable. The grand distinction between this deer, and any other species that I have ever met with, con- sisted in the strange length of its legs; on which it was tilted up much in the manner of the birds of the gralle order. I measured it as they do a horse, and found that, - from the ground to the wither, it was just five feet four inches; which height answers exactly to sixteen hands, a growth that few horses arrive at: but then, with this length of legs, its neck was remarkably short, no more than twelve inches ; so that, by straddling with one foot forward and the other backward, it grazed on the plain ground, with the greatest difficulty, between its legs: the ears were vast and lopping, and as long as the neck ; the head was about twenty inches long, and ass-like; and had such a redundancy of upper lip as I never saw before, with huge nostrils. This lip, travellers say, is esteemed a dainty dish in North America.* It is very reasonable to suppose, that this crea- ture supports itself chiefly by browsing off trees, and by wading after water plants ; towards which way of livelihood the length of legs and great lips must contribute much. 1 have read somewhere, that it delights in eating the nymphea, or water-lily. From the fore-feet to the belly, behind the shoulder, it measured three feet and eight inches ; the length of the legs, before and behind, consisted a great deal in the tibia, which was strangely long ; but, in my haste to get out of the stench, I forgot to measure that joint exactly. Its scut seemed to be about an inch long: the colour was a grizzly black ; the mane about four inches long; the fore-hoofs were upright and shapely, the hind flat and splayed. The spring before, it was only two years old, so that, most probably, it was not then come to its growth. What a vast tall beast * The legs of the moose are so long, and the neck so short, that they are unable to graze on level ground, like other animals, but are obliged to browse on the tops of large plants, and the leaves of trees in the summer; and in winter ag feed on the tops of willows, and the small branches of the tirch tree.— Ep. 132 SINGING BIRDS. must a full-grown stag be! I have been told some arrive at ten feet and a half! This poor creature had at first a femaie companion of the same species, which died the spring before. In the same garden was a young stag, or red-deer, between whom and this moose it was hoped that there might have been a breed; but their inequality of height must have always been a bar to any commerce of the amorous kind. I should have been glad to have examined the teeth, tongue, hips, hoofs, &c., minutely ; but the putrefaction precluded all farther curiosity. This animal, the keeper told me, seemed to enjoy itself best in the extreme frost of the former winter. In the house, they showed me the horn of a male moose, which had no front antlers, but only a broad palm, with some snags on the edge. The noble owner of the dead moose proposed to make a skeleton of her bones. ‘ Please to let me hear if my female moose corresponds with that you saw; and whether you think still that the American moose and European elk are the same creature. LETTER XXXTITT, TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. SELBORNE, April 12, 1770. Dear Srr,—I heard many birds of several species sing last year after midsummer; enough to prove that the sum- mer solstice is not the period that puts a stop to the musie of the woods. The yellow-hammer, no doubt, persists with more steadiness than any other ; but the wood-lark, the wren, the red-breast, the swallow, the white-throat, the goldfinch, the comraon linnet, are all undoubted instances ot the truth of what I advanced. If this severe season does not interrupt the regularity of the summer migrations, the black-cap will be here in two or three days.* I wish it was in my power to procure you one * Through the attention of W. Carruthers, Esq., of Dormont, I have lately received the black-cap, with some others of our summer birds, trom Madeira, where it is probable they partly retire, on Jeaving their breeding piaces.— W, J. EFFECTS OF FROST ON ANIMALS, 118 of those songsters; but I am no bird-catcher ; and so little used to birds in a cage, that I fear, if I had one, it would soon die for want of skill in feeding. Was your reed-sparrow, which you kept in a cage, the thick billed reed-sparrow of the Zoology, p. 320; or was it the less reed-sparrow of Ray, the sedge-bird of Mr. Pennant’s last publication, p. 16 ? As to the matter of long-billed birds growing fatter in moderate frosts, I have no doubt within myself what should bethe reason. The thriving at those times appears to me to arise altogether from the gentle check which the cold threws upon insensible perspiration. The case is just the same with blackbirds, &c.; and farmers and warreners observe, the first, that their hogs fat more kindly at such times; and the latter, that their rabbits are never in such good case as in a gentle frost. But, when frosts are severe and of long continuance, the case is soon altered; for then a want of food soon overbalances the repletion occasioned by a checked perspiration. I have observed, moreover, that some human constitutions are more inclined to plumpness in winter than in summer. _ When birds come to suffer by severe frost, I find that the first that fail and die are the red-wing fieldfares, and then the song-thrushes. You wonder, with good reason, that the hedge-sparrows, &c., can be induced at all to sit on the egg of the cuckoo, without being scandalised at the vast disproportioned size of the supposititious egg; but the brute creation, 1 suppose, have very little idea of size, colour, or number.* For the common hen, I know, when the fury of incubation is on her, will sit on a single shapeless stone, instead of a nest full of eggs that have been withdrawn; and moreover, a hen turkey, in the same circumstances, would sit on in the empty nest till she perished with hunger. I think the matter might easily be determined whether a cuckco lays one or two eggs, or more, in a season, by open- * By a wise provisior of nature, and to prevent the very circumstance which Mr. White here notices, we find the egg of the cuckoo scarcely larger tuat that of the common chaffinch.—W. J. But the young cuckoo is, beyond all doubt, larger than the birds that are usually found in the same nest.—W. C, T. I ‘174 SILENCE OF SINGING BIRDS. ing a female during the laying time. If more than one were come down out of the ovary, and advanced to a good size, doubtless, then, she would that spring lay more than one.* I will endeavour to get a hen, and examine. Your supposition that there may be some natural obstruc- tion in singing birds while they are mute, and that when this is removed the song recommences, is new and bold. I wish you could discover some good grounds for this suspicion. I was glad you were pleased with my specimen of the caprimulgus, or fern-owl: you were, I find, acquainted with the bird before. When we meet, I shall be glad to have some conversation with you concerning the proposal you make of my drawing up an account of the animals in this neighbourhood. Your partiality towards my small abilities persuades you, I fear, that I am able to do more than is in my power; for it is no small undertaking for a man, unsupported and alone, to begin a natural history from his own autopsia. Though there is endless room for observation in the field of nature, which is boundless, yet investigation (where a man endea- vours to be sure of his facts) can make but slow progress ; and.all that one could collect in many years would go into a very narrow compass. Some extracts from your ingenious “ Investigations of the difference between the present temperature of the air in Italy,” &c., have fallen in my way, and given me great satis- faction. They have removed the objection that always arose in my mind whenever I came to the passages which you quote. Surely the judicious Virgil, when writing a didactic poem for the region of Italy, could never think of describing freezing rivers, unless such severity of weather pretty fre- quently occurred ! P.S. Swallows appear amidst snows and frost. * It may be mentioned in confirmation of the idea of their laying more than one egg, that the American cuckoos deposit several.—Ep, MIGRATION, 115 LETTER XXXIV. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. SELBORNE, May 12, 1770. Dear Si1r,—Last month we had such a series of cold tur: bulent weather, such a constant succession of frost, and snow, and hail, and tempest, that the regular migration, or appear- ance of the summer birds, was much interrupted. Some did not show themselves (at least were not heard) till weeks after their usual time, as the black-cap and white-throat ; and some have not been heard yet, as the grasshopper-lark and largest willow-wren. As to the fly-catcher, I have not seen it; it is, indeed, one of the latest, but should appear about this time; and yet, amidst all this meteorous strife and war of the elements, two swallows discovered themselves as long ago as the eleventh of April, in frost and snow: but chey withdrew quickly, and were not visible again for many days.* House-martins, which are always more backward than swallows, were not observed till May came in. Among the monogamous birds, several are to be found, after pairing time, single and of each sex ; but whether this state of celibacy is matter of choice or necessity is not so easily discoverable. When the house-sparrows deprive my martins of their nests, as soon as I cause one to be shot, the other, be it cock or hen, presently procures a mate, and so for several times following. I have known a dove-house infested by a pair of white owls, which made great havoc among the young pigeons : * It is certain that swallows re-migrate; that is, if on some of them airiving in this country the weather is ungenial, they leave it again for a short time. So in the autumnal migrations, swallows, after their flight, will return again to this country if they meet in their passage with adverse winds or storms. An observant naturalist residing near Liverpool has assured me of this fact.—Eb. ' + The celerity with which birds find mates after a male or female has been shot, is very extraordinary, I have observed this among pigeous more par- ticula:!; —Eb. 13 116 PAIRING OF BIRDS—CATS. one of the owls was shot as soon as possible; but the sur vivor readily found a mate, and the mischief went on. After some time the new pair were both destroyed, and the annoyance ceased. Another instance I remember of a sportsman, whose zeal for the increase of his game being greater than his humanity, after pairing time, he always shot the cock-bird of every couple of partridges upon his grounds: supposing that the rivalry of many males interrupted the breed. He used to say, that though he had widowed the same hen several times, yet he found she was still provided with a fresh paramour, that did not take her away from her usual haunt. Again: I knew a lover of setting, an old sportsman, who has often told me that, soon after harvest, he has frequently taken small coveys of partridges consisting of cock-birds alone: these he pleasantly used to call old bachelors. There is a propensity belonging to common house cats that is very remarkable: I mean their violent fondness for fish, which appears to be their most favourite food; and yet nature, in this instance, seems to have planted in them an appetite that, unassisted, they know not how to gratify: for of all quadrupeds, cats are the least disposed towards water ; and will not, when they can avoid it, deign to wet a foot, much less to plunge into that element.* * In the Library of Entertaining Knowledge, on the authority of Dr. Darwin, cats fish: he says, “ Mr. Leonard, a very intelligent friend of mine, saw a cat catch a trout, by darting upon it in a deep clear water, at the mill at Weaford, near Lichfield. The cat belonged to Mr. Stanley, who had often scen her catch fish in the same manner in summer, when the mill-pool was drawn so low that the fish could be seen. I have heard cf other cats taking fish in shallow water, as they stood on the bank. This seems to be a natural method of taking their prey, usually lost by domestication, though they all retain a strong relish for fish.” The Rev. W. Bingley mentions another instance of a cat freely taking the water, related by his friend Mr. Bill, of Christchurch. When he lived at Wallington, near Carshalton, in Surrey, he had a cat that was often known to plunge, without hesitation, into the river Wandle, and swim over to an island at a little distance from the bank, To this there could be no other inducement than the fish she might catch on her passage, or the vermin that the island afforded.—W. J. ‘These are curious instances,” says the editor of the London Literary Gazette, in reviewing a former edition of this volume, “ but the following, which may be depended upon as a fact, is still more remarkable. At Caverton Mill, in Roxburghshire, a beautiful spot upon Kale Water, there was a favourite cat, domesticated in the dwelling-house, which stood at two or three RETURN OF SUMMER BIRDS. 117 Quadrupeds that prey on fish are amphibious ; such is the otter, which by nature is so well formed for diving, that it makes great havoc among the inhabitants of the waters. Not supposing that we had any of those beasts in our shallow brooks, | was much pleased to see a male otter brought to me, weighing twenty-one pounds, that had been shot on the bank of our stream, below the Priory, where the rivulet divides the parish of Selborne from Harteleywood. LETTER XXXV. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. SeLBorNnE, May 21, 1770. Dear Sir,—The severity and turbulence of last month so interrupted the regular process of summer migration, that some of the birds do but just begin to show themselves, and others are apparently thinner than usual; as the white- throat, the black-cap, the red-start, the fly-catcher. I well remember that, after the very severe spring in the year 1739-40, summer birds of passage were very scarce. They come probably hither with a south-east wind, or when it blows between those points; but, in that unfavourable year, the winds blew the whole spring and summer through from the opposite quarters. And yet, amidst all these disadvan- tages, two swallows, as I mentioned in my last, appeared this year as early as the 11th of April, amidst frost and snow; but they withdrew again for a time. hundred yards from the mill. When the mill-work ceased, the water was, as usual, stopped at the dam-head, and the dam below consequently ran gradually nore shallow, often leaving trout, which had ascended when it was full, to struggle back with difficulty to the parent stream ; and so well acquainted had puss become with this circumstance, and so fond was puss of fish, the moment the noise of the mill-clapper ceased, she used to scamper off to the dam, and, up to her belly in water, continue to catch fish like an otter. It would not be very easy to cite a more curious case of animal instinct approaching to reason, and overcoming the usual habits of the species,” i118 REED-SPARROW—PLUMAGE: IT am not pleased to find that some people seem so littla satisfied with Scopoli’s new publication.* There is room tu expect great things from the hands of that man, who is a good naturalist; and one would think that a history of the birds of so distant and southern a region as Carniola would be new and interesting. I could wish to see that work, and hope to get it sent down. Dr. Scopoli is physician to the wretches that work in the quicksilver mines of that district. When you talked of keeping a reed-sparrow, and giving it seeds, I could not help wondering ; because the reed-sparrowt which I mentioned to you (passer arundinaceus minor, Raii) is a soft-billed bird, and most probably migrates hence before winter ; whereas the bird you kept ( passer torquatus, Raii)ft abides all the year, and is a thick-billed bird. I question whether the latter be much of asongster; but in this matter I want to be better informed. The former has a variety of hurrying notes, and sings all night. Some part of the song of the former, I suspect, is attributed to the latter. We have plenty of the soft-billed sort, which Mr. Pennant had entirely left out of his British Zoology, till 1 reminded hin of his omission. See British Zoology last published, p. 16.§ I have somewhat to advance on the different manners in which different birds fly and walk; but as this is a subject that I have not enough considered, and is of such a nature as not to be contained in a small space, I shall say nothing farther about it at present.|| No doubt the reason why the sex of birds in their first plumage is so difficult to be distinguished is, as you say, “because they are not to pair and discharge their parental functions till the ensuing spring.” As colours seem to be * This work he calls his “ Annus Primus Historico-Naturalis,’—* First Annual of Natural History,” is probably the most intelligible translation of the title. + The Sedge-warbler (Salicaria phragmitis). +t The Reed-bunting (Zmberiza scheniclus). § See Letter xxv. To Thomas Pennant, Esq. , € See Letter pxxiv. To the Hon. Daines Barrington. | If the young had their full plumage the first year, or when they quitted their nest, they would in their then feeble state be more exposed to be killed by birds of prey, and other casualties. It seems therefore a benevolent design of Providence that the more humble plumage should remain on them till they are more able to protect themselves.— En. MOOSE-DEER. 118. the chief external sexual distinction in many Dirds, these colours do not take place till sexual attachmerts begin to obtain. Aud the case is the same in quadrupeds, among whom, in their younger days, the sexes differ but little ; but, as they advance to maturity, horns and shaggy manes, beards and brawny necks, &c., &c., strongly discriminate the male from the female. We may instance still farther m our own species, where a beard and stronger features are usually characteristic of the male sex ; but this sexual diversity does not take place in earlier life; for a beautiful youth shai be so like a beautiful girl, that the difference shall not be discernible :— . Quem si puellarum insereres choro, Mire sagaces falleret hospites Discrimen obscurum, solutis Crinibus, ambiguéque vultu.”—Hor. If he were by girls surrounded, Strangers soon would be confounded : Manhood’s form could no one trace In his beardless female face. LETTER XXXVI. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. SELBORNE, Aug. 1, 1770. Dear S1r,—The French, I think, in general, are strangely prolix in their natural history. What Linnzus says with respect to insects holds good in every other branck: “ Ver- bositas presentis secult, calamitas artis.” Pray how do you approve of Scopoli’s new work? As I admire his Entomologia, I long to see it. I forgot to mention in my last letter (and had not room to insert in the former) that the male moose, in rutting time, swims from island to isiand, in the lakes and rivers of North America, in pursuit of the females. My frieud, the chaplain, saw one killed in the water, as it was on that errand, in the river St. Lawrence: it was a monstrous beast, he told me; but he did not take the dimensions. | 120: RING-OUSELS. When I was last in town, our friend Mr. Barrington most obligingly carried me to see many curious sights. As you were then writig to him about horns, he carried me to see many strange and wonderful specimens. There is, I remem- ber, at Lord Pembroke’s, at Wilton, a horn-room furnished with more than thirty different pairs; but I have not seen that house lately. Mr. Barrington showed me many astonishing collections of stuffed and living birds from all quarters of the world. After I had studied over the latter for a time, I remarked that every species almost, that came from distant regions, such as South America, the coast of Guinea, &c., were thick-. billed birds, of the loaia and fringilla genera; and no mota- cille or muscicapide,* were to be met with. When I came to consider, the reason was obvious enough; for the hard- billed birds subsist on seeds which are easily carried on poard, wuile the soft-billed birds, which are supported by worms and insects, or, what is a succedaneum for them, fresh raw meat, can meet with neither in long and tedious voyages. It is from this defect of food that our collections (curious as they are,) are defective, and we are deprived of some of the most delicate and lively genera. LETTER XXXVII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Sept. 14, 1770. Dear Srr,—You saw, I find, the ring-ousels again among their native crags; and are farther assured that they con- tinue resident in those cold regions the whole year. From whence then do our ring-ousels migrate so regularly every September, and make their appearance again, as if in their return, every April? They are more early this year than * This collection must have been very limited, and, of course, the conclusions erroneously drawn from a few species, The muscicapide and sylviade abeznd in all South America.—W. J. RING-OUSELS. 121 common, for some were seen at the usual hill on the fourth of this month. An observing Devonshire gentleman tells me, that they frequent some parts of Dartmoor, and breed there, but leave those haunts about the end of September, or beginning of October, and return again about the end of March, Another intelligent person assures me, that they breed in great abundance all over the Peak of Derby, and are called there tor-ousels, withdraw in October and November, and return in spring. This information seems te throw some light on my new migration. Scopoli’s new work * (which I have just procured), has its merits, in ascertaining many of the birds of the Tyrol and Carniola. Monographers, come from whence they may, have, I think, fair pretence to challenge some regard and approba- tion from the lovers of natural history ; for, as no man can a.one investigate all the works of nature, these partial writers may, each in his department, be more accurate in their discoveries, and freer from errors, than more general writers, and so by degrees may pave the way to an universal correct natural history. Not that Scopoliis so circumstantial and attentive to the life and conversation of his birds as I could wish: he advances some false facts; as when he says of the hirundo urbica, that, “ pullos extra nidum non nutrit.” This assertion I know to be wrong, from repeated observa- tion this summer; for house-martins do feed their young flying, though, it must be acknowledged, not so commonly as the house-swallow; and the feat is done in so quick a manner as not to be perceptible to indifferent observers. He also advances some (I was going to say) improbable facts; as when he says of the woodcock that “pullos rostro portat fugiens ab hoste,’—flymg from the enemy it carries tts young in its beak.t But candour forbids me to say absolutely that any fact is false because I have never been * Annus Primus Historico-Naturalis. + It is an undoubted fact, of which I have had ample proof, that when woodcocks breed in this country, they deposit their eggs on some dry bank, and as soon as the young are hatched they are conveyed to the nearest swamp, or wet place, where food can be procured. I am assured that this is done by means of the beak of the old birds. I have the authority of the keeper cf a friend of mine, who saw this mode of conveyance practiced.— Eb, 122 SCOPOLI’S ANNUS PRIMUS. witness to such a fact. Ihave only to remark, that tne long unwieldy bill of the woodcock is, perhaps, the worst adapted of any among the winged creation for such a feat of natural affection. LETTER XXXVIII. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. Riemer, near Lewes, October 8, 1770. Dear Srz,—I am glad to hear that Kuekalm is to furnish you with the birds of Jamaica. A sight of the hirwndines of that hot and distant island would be a great entertain- ment to me. The Anni of Scopoli are now in my possession; and I have read the Annus Primus with satisfaction; for, though some parts of this work are exceptionable, and he may advance some mistaken observations, yet the ornithology of so distant a country as Carniola is very curious. Men that undertake only one district, are much more likely to advance natural knowledge, than those that grasp at more than they can possibly be acquainted with. Every kingdom, every province, should have its own monographer. | _ The reason perhaps, why he mentions nothing of Ray’s Ornithology, may be the extreme poverty and distance of his country, into which the works of our great naturalists may have never yet found their way. You have doubts, I know, whether this Ornithology is genuine, and really the work of Scopoli: as to myself, I think I discover strong tokens of authenticity ; the style corresponds with that of his Hnto- mology ; and his characters of his Ordines and Genera are’ many of them new, expressive, and masterly. He has ventured to alter some of the Linnean genera, with s"ifficient show of reason. , | It might, perhaps, be mere accident that you.saw so many swifts and no swallows at Staines; because, in my long observation of those birds, I never could discover the least degree of rivalry or hostility between the species.* * There are few birds which’annear to possess less of anery passions thar CUCKOOS. 123 Ray remarks, that birds of the galline order, as cocks and hens, partridges and pheasants, &c., are pulveratrices, such as dust themselves, using that method of cleansing their feathers, and ridding themselves of their vermin. As far as I can observe, many birds that dust themselves never wash ; and I once thought that those birds that wash themselves would never dust: but here I find myself mistaken; for common house-sparrows are great pulveratrices, being frequently seen grovellmg and wallowing in dusty roads; and yet they are great washers. Does not the skylark dust ? Query. Might not Mahomet and his followers take one method of purification from these pulveratrices ? because: I find, from travellers of credit, that if a strict Mussulman is journeying in a sandy desert, where no water is to be found, at stated hours he strips off his clothes, and most scrupu- lously rubs his body over with sand or dust. A countryman told me he had found a young fern-owl in the nest of a small bird on the ground: and that it was fed by the little bird. I went to see this extraordinary pheno- menon, and found that it was a young cuckoo hatched in the nest of a titlark; it was become vastly too big for its nest, appearing 7 4a SS in tenui re Majores pennas nido extendisse.” Though by poverty depress’d, Spreading its wings beyond the nest ; and was very fierce and pugnacious, pursuing my finger, as I teased it, for many feet from the nest, and sparring and buffeting with its wings like a game-cock. The dupe of a dam appeared at a distance, hovering about with meat in ita mouth, and expressing the greatest solicitude. ” the swallow. Although it “twitters sweetly,” there is in its song no appear- ance of emulation. On the contrary it seems to proceed from feelings of happiness and complacency, which cannot be mistaken. I like to watch it darting now and then to its nest, and uttering that little note of love which i3 responded to by the female while she is performing her task of incubation. And then to see its airy evolutions! “T delight to see How suddenly he skims the glassy pool, How quaintly dips, 2nd with an arrow’s speed Whisks by. I love to be awake, und hear \ His morning song twitter'd to dawning day.”—Hurdis. Es, 124 CROSSBEAKS. In July, I saw several cuckoos skunming over a large pond; and found, after some observation, that they were feeding on the libellule, or dragon-flies, some of which they caught as they settled on the weeds, and some as they were on the wing. Notwithstanding what Linneus says, I cannot be induced to believe that they are birds of prey. This district affords some birds that are hardly ever heard of at Selborne. In the first place, considerable flocks of cross-beaks (lovie curvirostre,) have appeared this summer in the pine groves belonging to this house ;* the water-ousel * The species of cross-bills are only three in number. One loxia curvi- rostra, pays frequent visits, in flocks of from ten to eighty or a hundred in number, during the winter. The loxia pittyopsittacus has only been once recorded as a native of this country, from a specimen killed in Ross-shire, and now in my possession; it can, therefore, only be ranked as an occasional visitant: it is a native of Germany and North America. The third species, loxia falcirostra, also a native of North America, has once been shot within two miles of Belfast, Ireland—the only authenticated instance of its visiting our coasts. Ina late number of the Zoological Journal, Mr. Yarrel (whom we have already had occasion to mention as a most persevering naturalist), has supplied some very interesting facts regarding the formation and direction of the besk of the common cross-bill, and which, we think, are here worthy of notice :—“ The beak of the cross-bill is altogether unique in its form; the mandibles do not lie upon each other, with their lateral edges in opposition, as in other birds, but curve to the right and left, and always in opposite direc- tions to each other. In some specimens, the upper mandibles curve down- wards an7 to the left; the under portion turned upwards, and to the right When holding the head of this bird in my fingers, I found I could bring the under mandible in a line underneath, and touching the point of the upper, but not beyond it, towards the left side; while, on its own side, the point passed with ease to the distance of 3-8th of an inch. The upper mandible has a limited degree of motion on the cranium, the superior maxillary and nasal bones being united to the frontal by flexible bony laminz. “‘ The form as well as the magnitude of the processes of some of the bones of the head are also reculiar to this bird. The pterygoid processes of the pala- tine bones are considerably elongated downwards, to afford space for the insertion of the large pterygoid muscles. The os omotdewm on each side is strongly articulated to the os quadratum, affording firm support to the upper mandible. The jugal bone is united to the superior maxillary bone in front—is firmly attached by its posterior extremity to the outer side of the vs quadratum ; when, therefore, the 0s guadratwm is pulled upwards and forwards by its own peculiar muscles, the jugal bone on each side, by its pressure forwards, elevates the upper mandible. “ The inferior projecting process of the os guadratum, to which the lower yaw is articulated, in most other birds is somewhat linear from before back- wards, and compressed at the sides, admitting vertical motion only upwards ind THE CROSSBILL. RING-OUSELS, 125 is said to haunt the mouth of the Lewes river, zear New- haven; and the Cornish chough builds, I. know, all along the chalky cliffs of the Sussex shore. I was greatly pleased to see little parties of ring-ousels downwards ; the same process in the cross-bill is spherical. The cavity in the lower jaw, destined to receive this process, is a hollow circular cup. The union of these two portions, therefore, forms an articulation possessing the universal motion and flexibility of the mechanical ball-and-socket joint. The lower jaw is of great strength, the sides or plates elevated, with prominent coronoid processes, to which, as well as to the whole outer sides of the plates, the temporal muscle is attached ; and in a head of this bird, which had been divested of all the soft parts, I found, on sliding the lower laterally upon the upper, as performed by the bird, that, before the coronoid process is brought into contact with the pterygoid, on its own side, the extreme points of the mandibles were separated laterally to the extent I have already mentioned of 3-8ths of an inch. The temporal and pyramidal muscles on the right side of the head (that being the side to which the lower jaw inclined,) were consider- ably larger than those of the left, and indicated by their bulk the great lateral power this bird is capable of exerting, to be hereafter noticed. The unusually large size of the pterygoid muscles, on each side, was very conspicuous, the space for them being obtained by the great distance to which the articulated extremities of the lower jaw were removed ; and the food of the bird being smal] seeds, rendered a narrow pharynx sufficient for the purpose of swallow- ing. The muscles depressing the lower mandible are three in number, only one of which, the greater pyramidal, is visible. This strong muscle covers two other small ones, the triangular and square muscles, so called from their particular shape. These three muscles, all of which have their origin in the occipital portion of the cranium, are inserted by strong tendons on the under and back cf each extremity of the lower jaw, behind the centre of motion, and, consequently, by their simultaneous contraction, raise the point to which they are attached, and depress the anterior part of the mandible. The lower portions of the ossa guadrata are pushed somewhat forwards by this compression, assisted by two small muscles; one of these, a small flat muscle, arises from the septum of the orbits, behind the small aperture observed in the septum, and passes downwards to be inserted upon the prejecting styloid process of the os quadratum. The second is a small pyramidal-shaped muscle, arising also from the septum, anterior to the other muscle, and, passing downwards and backwards, is inserted upon the omoidewm, both by their contraction pulling the os gquadratum forwards, and thus elevating the other mandible. The depressors of the lower jaw, and the elevators of the upper, therefore, act together to separate the mandibles. ‘To close the mandibles, the temporal and pterygoid muscles elevate the lower jaw, assisted by slender slips, which, extending forwards to the superior maxillary bones, act in concert, by bringing tkem down. When the lateral motion is required, the great pyramidal muscle on the right side pulls the extremity of the lower jaw, to which it is attached, backwards, the p erygoid muscles on the left side at the same time powerfully assisting, by carrying that side of the lower jaw inwards.” Mr, Yarrel next goes on to explain the use of the tongue. Their food is 126 LAND TORTOISE. (my newly-discovered migrators), scattered, at intervals, al) ‘along the Sussex downs from Chichester to Lewes. Let them come frum whence they will, it looks very suspicious that they are cantoned all along the coast, in order to pass the Channel, when severe weather advances. They visit us again in April, as it should seem, in their return, and are not to be found in the dead of winter. It is remarkable that they are very tame, and seem to have no manner of appre- hensions of aanger from a person with a gun. There are bustards on the wide downs near Brighthelmstone, No doubt you are acquainted with the Sussex downs, The ‘prospects and rides round Lewes are most lovely. - As I rode along near the coast I kept a very sharp look- out in the lanes and woods, hoping I might, at this time of ‘the year, have discovered some of the summer short-winged ‘birds of passage crowding towards the coast, n order for the seeds of the different fir-cones ; and their mode of operation, when pro- ceeding to extract them, is this :—They first fix themselves across the cones then, bringing the points of the maxilla from their crossed or lateral position to lie immediately over each other, in this reduced compass they insinuate their beaks between the scales, and then opening them, not in the usual manner, but by drawing the inferior maxilla sideways, force open the scales. Mr. Yarrel then proceeds :—“ At this stage of the proceeding, the aid of the tongue becomes necessary, and this organ is no less admirably adapted for the service required. The os hyozdes, or bone of the tongue, has articulated to its ante- rior extremity an additional portion, formed partly of bone, with a horny ‘covering. In shape it is narrow, about 38-8ths of an inch in length, ana extends downwards and forwards, the sides curved upwards, the distal extremity shaped like a scoop, somewhat pointed and thin on both edges, the ‘proximal extremity ending iu two small processes, elongated upwards and backwards above the articulation with the bone of the tongue, each process hhaving inserted upon it a slender muscle extending backwards to the glottis, and attached to the os hyoides, which muscles, by their contraction, extend and raise the scoop-like point; underneath the articulation of this horny and grooved appendage is another small muscle, which is attached at one extremity to the os hyoides, at the other to the moveable piece, and, by its action, as au antagonist to the upper muscles, bends the point downwards and backwaus ; while, therefore, the point of the beak presses the shell from the body of the cone, the tongue, brought forward hy its own muscle (genio-hyoideus), is enabled, by the additional muscles described, to direct and insert its cutting scoop underneath the seed, and the food thus dislodged is transferred to the mouth ; and, when the mandibles are separated laterally in this seperation, the bird has an uninterrupted view of the seed in the cavity, with the eye on that side to which the under mandible is curved.” _ For farther information consult Zoological Jowrnul, vol. iv. p. 459.—W. J / SCOPOLI’S ANNUS PRIMUS. 127 their departure ; but it was very extraordinary that 1 never saw a red-start, white-throat, black-cap, uncrested wren, fly- catcher, &c.; and I remember to have made the same remark in former years, as I usually come to this place annually about this time. The birds most common along the coast, at present, are the stone-chatters, whin-chats, buntings, linnets, some few wheat-ears, titlarks, &c. Swallows and _ house- martins abound yet, induced to prolong their stay by this soft, still, dry season. A land-tortoise, which has been kept for thirty years in a little walled court belonging to the house where I am now visiting, retires under ground about the middle of November, and comes forth again about the middle of April. When it first appears in the spring, it discovers very little inclination towards food, but in the height of summer grows voracious, and then, as the summer declines, its appetite declines ; so that for the last six weeks in autumn it hardly eats at all. Milky plants, such as lettuces, dandelions, sow-thistles, are its favourite dish. In a neighbouring village one was kept till, by tradition, it was supposed to be an hundred years old, —an instance of vast longevity in such a poor reptile! LETTER XXXIX, TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. SELBORNE, Oct. 29, 1779, Drar Srr,—After an ineffectual search in Linneus, Bris- son, &c., 1 begin to suspect that I discern my brother’s hirundo hyberna in Scopoli’s new-discovered hirundo rupes- tris, p. 167. His description of “Supra murina, subtus albide; tectrices macula oval alba in latere interno ; pedes nudi, nigri ; rostrum nigrum ; remiges obscuriores quam plume dorsales ; rectrices remigibus concolores ; caudd emarginaté nee forci- pata,’ agrees very well with the bird in question; but when he comes to advance that it is “ statwra hirundinis urbice,” and that “definito hirundinis riparie Linnei huie quoque convenit,” he, in some measure, invalidates all he has said; 128 SUMMER BIRDS UF PASSAGE. at least, he shows at once that he compares them to these species merely from memory ; for I have compared the birds themselves, and find they differ widely in every circumstance of shape, size, and colour. However, as you will have a specimen, I shall be glad to hear what your judgment is in» the matter. Whether my brother is forestalled in his nondescript or not, he will have the credit of first discovering that they spend their winters under the warm and sheltery shores of Gibraltar and Barbary. Scopoli’s characters of his Ordines and Genera are clear, just, and expressive, and much in the spirit of Linneus. These few remarks are the result of my first perusal of Scopoli’s Annus Primus. The bane of our science is the comparing one animal to the other by memory. For want of caution in this parti- cular, Scopoli falls into errors. He is not so full with regard to the manners of his indigenous birds as might be wished, as you justly observe: his Latin is easy, elegant, and expressive, and very superior to Kramer’s.* LETTER XL. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Nov. 26, 1770. Dear Str,—I was much pleased to see, among the collection » of birds from Gibraltar, some of those short-winged English summer birds of passage, concerning whose departure we have made so much inquiry. Now, if these birds are found, in Andalusia, to migrate to and from Barbary, it may easily be supposed that those that come to us may migrate back to the continent, and spend their winters in some of the warmer parts of Europe. This is certain, that many soft-billed birds that come to Gibraltar appear there only in spring anu * See his Hlenchus Vegetabilium et Animalium per Austriam Inferiorem, (0.44— Summary of Vegetables and Animals in Lower Austria.” u STONE CURLEW. 129 autumn, seeming to advance in pairs towards the northward, for the sake of breeding during the summer months, and retiring in parties and broods towards the south at the decline of the year; so that the rock of Gibraltar is the great rendezvous and place of observation, from whence they take their departure each way towards Europe or Africa. It is therefore no mean discovery, I think, to find that our small short-winged summer birds of passage are to be seen, spring and autumn, on the very skirts of Europe ;—it is a presumptive proof of their emigrations. Scopoli seems to me to have found the hirundo melba (the great Gibraltar swift) in Tyrol, without knowing it. For what is the hirundo alpina, but the aforementioned bird in other words? Says he, “ Omnia prioris (meaning the swift) sed pectus album; paulo major priore.” “ All the marks of _ the former but the white breast; a little larger than the former.’ JI do not suppose this to be a new species. It is true also of the melba, that “nzdificat in excelsis Alpium rupibus,’—It builds its nest in the lofty cliffs of the Alps. Vid. Annum Primun. My Sussex friend, a man of observation and good sense, but no naturalist, to whom I applied on account of the stone curlew (oedicnemus), sends me the following account :—* In looking over my Naturalist’s Journal for the month of April, I find the stone curlews are first mentioned on the 17th and 18th, which date seems to me rather late. They live with us all the spring and summer, and at the beginning of autumn prepare to take leave, by getting together in flocks. ‘They seem to me a bird of passage that may travel into some dry hilly country south of us, probably Spain, because of the abundance of sheep-walks in that country ; for they spend their summers with us in such districts. This conjecture I hazard, as I have never met with any one that has seen them in England in the winter. JI believe they are not fond of going near the water, but feed on earth-worms, that are common on sheep-walks and downs. They breed on fallows aud lay-fields abounding with grey mossy flints, which much resemble their young in colour, among which they skulk and conceal themselves. They make no nest, but lay their eggs on the bare ground, producing in common but two at a time. There is reason to think their young run soon after they are K 130 CHAFFINCHES, hatched, and that the old ones do not feed them, but only lead them about at the time of feeding, which, for the most part, is in the night.” Thus far my friend. In the manners of this bird, you see, there is something very analogous to the bustard, whom it also somewhat resembles in aspect and make, and in the structure of its feet. For a long time I have desired my relation to look out for these birds in Andalusia; and now he writes me word that, for the first time, he saw one dead in the market on the 3rd of September. When the oedienemus flies, it stretches out its legs straight behind, like a heron. LETTER XLI. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. SELBORNE, Dec. 20, 1770 Dear Srr,—The birds that I tcok for aberdavines were reed-sparrows (passeres torquatt). There are, doubtless, many home internal migrations within this kingdom that want to be better understood; witness those vast flocks of hen chafiinches that appear with us in the winter without hardly any cocks among them. Now, were there a due proportion of each sex, it would seem very improbable that any one district should produce such num- bers of these little birds, and much more when only one half of the species appears ; therefore we may conclude that the Sringille colebes, for some good purposes, have a peculiar migration of their own, in which the sexes part. Nor should it seem so wonderful that the intercourse of sexes in this species of birds should be interrupted in winter; since in many animals, and particularly in bucks and does, the sexes herd separately, except at the season when commerce is necessary for the continuance of the breed. For this matter of the chaffinches, see Fawna Suecica, p. 85, and Systema lla celebs.) E CHAFFINCH. (Fring TH CHAFFINCHES. 131 Nature, p. 318. I see every winter vast flights of hen ehaffinches, but none of cocks.* Your method of accounting for the periodical motions cf * Amongst our vernal birds of passage, the cock birds generally arrive about a fortnight before the hens, a circumstance well known to the bird- catchers, who are certain that all which are caught out of the first flight will prove males. The cock nightingales generally appear in the neighbourhood of London on the 12th of April. They are sometimes taken a few days earlier, but that is the day upon which those who make a trade of catching them depend upon their arrival. It is very difficult to understand the reason of this precession of the males. It has been supposed by some writers, that the females were delayed by the care of a young brood; but it seems to me nearly certain that our summer birds do not breed again when they visit Africa during our winter months. Those who have been accustomed to keep nightingales in confinement know, that one which has been taken from the nest before it could fly, and reared in a cage, will never sing the true song of its species, unless it have the advantage of hearing an old nightingale sing throughout the autumn and winter; that a young nightingale caught in the summer after the old birds have begun to moult and ceased singing, will sing rather more correctly than that which was taken from the nest, because it has had the advantage of hearing the notes of its parent longer; but that, without further education under an old male in autumn and winter, it will only be able to execute parts of the nightingale’s beautiful melody, and will repeat too often some of the loud notes, and harp upon them in a manner that is quite disagreeable. These two classes of young birds seldom become good songsters in confinement ; because, unless a consider- able number of old nightingales are kept in the same rcom with them, they have not the same opportunity of hearing and learning that they would have had in the woods ; and if any other birds are kept within hearing, they will imitate their notes, and retain the habit of singing them. The old nightingales cease to sing in England for the most part towards the end of June, and after that time the young ones can have no farther opportunity of learning their song while they remain in Europe; they merely record, or practise in the throat, what they can recollect. I may take this opportunity of making some further remarks on the acquisi- tion of song or peculiar notes by young birds. The nightingale, which far surpasses all other birds in the natural modulation and variety of its notes, and cannot be equalled by any in execution, even if they have learned its song, is peculiarly apt in its first year, when confined, to learn the song of any other bird that it hears. Its beautiful song is the result of long attention to the melody of the older birds of its species. The young whinchat, wheatear, and others of the genus Saxicola, which have little natural variety of song, are no less ready in confinement to learn from other species, and become as much better songsters as the nightingale degenerates, by borrowing from others. The bullfinch, whose natural notes are weak, harsh, and insignificant, has a greater favility than any other bird of learning human music. It is pretty evicent that the Germans, who bring vast numbers of them to London which K2 132 CHAFFINCHES. the British singing birds, or birds of flight, 1s a very probable one, since the matter of food is a great regulator of the actions and proceedings of the brute creation: there is but one that can be set in competition with it, and that is love. But I cannot quite acquiesce with you in one circumstance, they have taught to pipe, must have instructed them more by whistling to them, than by an organ; and that their instructions have been accompanied by a motion of the head and body in accordance with the time: which habit the birds also acquire, and is no doubt of great use to them in regulating their song. The canary-bird, whose song, in its artificial state in Europe, is a compound of notes acquired from other birds, is able to learn the song of the nightingale, but not to execute it with the same power as the nightingale itself, I have never heard one that sang it quite correctly, but I have heard it approach quite enough to prove that with more careful education it might learn it right. Those who have taken the most pains about it have been contented with placing, under nightingales, young canaries, as soon as they could feed themselves; but such will necessarily have learned part at least of their parents’ song. The linnet and linnet mule is said to be able to come nearer the execution of the nightingale, when properly instructed. The best way would be to use an experienced hen canary-bird who will rear her young without the cock, and to take the cock away before the young are hatched: or to set the canary-eggs uuder a hen paired with a goldfinch, which, kept in a darkish situation, will probably not sing; to remove the cock, at all events, if it sings, as soon as possible ; to place the young birds very close to the singing nightingale, and as soon as practicable to remove the hen canary also. The rearing of a canary-bird by hand, even from the egg, has been accomplished by artificial heat and unremitting care. Birds learn the song of others most readily when they are not in song themselves, and when they are darkened and covered, so that their attention is not distracted; for birds are amused by what they see as much as we are, when not alarmed by it. I had once a tame whitethroat which, when let out of its cage, appeared to take the greatest pleasure in minutely examining the. figured patterns of the chair- eovers, perhaps expecting to find something eatable amongst the leaves and branches of the pattern. I reared a blackcap and some whitethroats, taken when a fortnight old, under a singing nightingale, and removed all other singing birds: they did not, however, learn a single note from the nightingale, but sang their wild note pretty truly; on the other hand, a blackcap two years old, from hearing a nightingale sing a great deal, acquired two passages from its song and executed them correctly, though not very powerfully. I under- stand that the robin reared in a cage is not observed to learn from other birds, but sings the wild note pretty accurately. I can at present suggest no key ta these diversities; nor do I understand why the young nightingale, taken when the old birds cease to sing. will in confinement learn the note of other birds and retain them, although it may hear its own species sing again as soon as they recommence in the autumn; and yet, at liberty, with the same cessation of the parental song, it would have learned nothing else; unless it be that from want of other amusement it listens more when it is confined.—W. H WOODCOCKS—FIELDFARES. 133 when you advance that, “ When they have thus feasted, they again separate into small parties of five or six, and get the best fare they can within a certain district, having no mduce- ment to go in quest of fresh-turned earth.” Now, if you mean that the business of congregating is quite at an end trom the conclusion of wheat-sowing, to the season of barley and oats, it is not the case with us; for larks and chaffinches, and particularly linnets, flock and congregate as much in the very dead of winter as when the husbandman is busy with his ploughs and harrows. Sure there can be no doubt but that woodcocks and field- fares leave us in the spring, in order to cross the seas, and to retire to some districts more suitable to the purpose of breeding. That the former pair before they retire, and that the hens are forward with egg, I myself, when I was a sportsman, have often experienced. It cannot be deniec but that now and then we hear of a woodcock’s nest,* or young birds, discovered in some part or other of this island; but then they are always mentioned as rarities, and some- what out of the common course of things ; but as to redwings and fieldfares, no sportsman or naturalist has ever yet, that 1 could hear, pretended to have found the nest or young of those species in any part of these kingdoms. And I the more admire at this instance as extraordinary, since, to all appearance, the same food, in summer as well as in winter, might support them here which maintains their congeners, the blackbirds and thrushes, did they choose to stay the summer through. From hence it appears, that it is not food alone which determines some species of birds with regard to their stay or departure. Fieldfares and redwings disappear sooner or later, according as the warm weather comes on earlier or later; for I well remember, after that dreadful winter, 1739-40, that cold north-east winds con- tinued to blow on through April and May, and that these kinds of birds (what few remained of them) did not depart as usual, but were seen lingering about till the beginning of June. * Woodcocks breed much more frequently in this country than is generally supposed. Several nests are annually found in Sir Charles Taylor’s woods, at Hollycombe, in Sussex, and in various parts in England and Scotland.--Ep. 134 MIGRATION, The best authority that we can have for the nidification of © the birds above mentioned, in any district, is the testimony of faunists that have written professedly the natural history of particular countries. Now, as to the fieldfare, Linnzeus, in his Fauna Suecica, says of it, that “ maximis in arboribus nidificat ;” “it builds m the largest trees.” And of the redwing, he says in the same place, that “ntdificat nm mediis arbusculis, sive sepibus : ova sex ceruleo-viridia maculis nigris variis.’ “Tt builds in the midst of shrubs or hedges; it produces six eggs, of a sea-green colour, with varied black spots.” Hence we may be assured that fieldfares and red- wings breed in Sweden. Scopoli says, in his Annus Primus, of the woodcock, that “nuptaad nos venit circa equinoctium vernale :”? “when mated, it comes to us about the vernal equinox ;”” meaning in Tyrol, of which he is a native. And afterwards he adds, “ dificat in paludibus alpinis: ova ponit 3—5.” “It builds its nest m the Alpme marshes, and lays from three to five eggs.” It does not appear from Kramer that woodcocks breed at all in Austria; but he says, “ Avis hec septentrionalum provinciarum estivo tempore incola est ; ubi plerwmque nidificat. Appropinquante hyeme australiores provincias petit: hine circa plenilunum potissi- mum mensis Octobris plerumque Austriam transmigrat. Tune rursus circa plenilunium potissimum mensis Martu per Aus- triam matrimonio juncta ad septentrionales provineias redit.” “This bird, in summer, inhabits the northern provinces, where it generally nests. On the approach of winter it seeks more southern provinces; it usually leaves this at the October full-moon, generally in the direction of Austria. Then it returns back, after mating, generally about the March full-moon.” ‘For the whole passage (which I have abridged), see Elenchus, &c., p. 351. This seems to be a full proof of the emigration of woodecocks ; though little is proved concerning the place of their breeding.* . P.S.—There fell in the county of Rutland, in three weeks of this present very wet weather, seven inches and a half cf rain, which is more than has fallen in any three weeks for * Woodcocks arrive in Silesia about the latter end of April, or beginning of fay, and leave it again in October.—W. J. MIGRATION. 135 these thirty years past, in that part of the world. A mean quantity in that county for one year is twenty inches and a LETTER XLII. TO THE SAME. FYFIELD, near ANDOVER, Feb. 12, 1771. Dear Srr,—You are, I know, no great friend to migra- tion; and the well-attested accounts from various parts of the kingdom, seem to justify you in your suspicions, that at least many of the swallow kind do not leave us in the winter,* but lay themselves up like insects and bats, in a torpid state, and slumber away the more uncomfortabie months, till the return of the sun and fine weather awakens them. But then we must not, I think, deny migration in general; because migration certainly does subsist in some places, as my brother in Andalusia has fully formed me. Of the motions of these birds he has ocular demonstration, for many weeks together, both spring and fall; during which periods, myriads of the swallow kind traverse the Straits from north to south, and from south to north, according to the season. And these vast migrations consist not only of hirundines, but of bee-birds, hoopoes, oro pendolos, or golden thrushes, &e., &c., and also of many of our soft-billed summer birds of passage ; and moreover, of birds which never leave us, such as all the various sorts of hawks and kites. Old Belon, two hundred years ago, gives a curious account of the incre- dible armies of hawks and kites which he saw in the spring time traversing the Thracian Bosphorus, from Asia to Europe. Besides the above mentioned, he remarks that the procession is swelled by whole troops of eagles and rultures. * See preceding note on this subject, page 39 of this edition.—Ep, 186 MIGRATION. Now, it is no wonder that birds residing in Africa should retreat before the sun as it advances, and retire to milder regions, and especially birds of prey, whose blood being heated with hot animal food, are more impatient of a sultry climate; bnt then I cannot help wondering why kites and hawks, and such hardy birds as are known to defy all the severity of England, and even of Sweden and all north Europe, should want to migrate from the south of Europe, and be dissatisfied with the winters of Andalusia. It does not appear to me that much stress may be laid on the difficulty and hazard that birds must run in their migra- tions, by reason of vast oceans, cross winds, &e.; because, if we reflect, a bird may travel from England to the Equator without launching out and exposing itself to boundless seas, and that by crossing the water at Dover, and again at Gibraltar. And I with the more confidence advance this obvious remark, because my brother has always found that some of his birds, and particularly the swallow kind, are very sparing of their pains in crossing the Mediterranean for when arrived at Gibraltar, they do not, ———_. “ Ranged in figure, wedge their way ——_—___________— and set forth Their airy caravan, high over seas Flying, and over lands with mutual wing Easing their flight ;” Minton. but scout and hurry along in little detached parties of six or seven in a company; and, sweeping low, just over the sur- face of the land and water, direct their course to the opposite. continent at the narrowest passage they can find. They usually slope across the bay to the south-west, and so pass over opposite to Tangier, which, it seems, is the narrowest space. In former letters, we haye considered, whether it was probable that woodcocks, in moonshiny nights, cross the German Ocean from Scandinavia. As a proof that birds of less speed may pass that sea, considerable as it is, I shall relate the following incident, which, though mentioned to have happened so many years ago, was strictly matter of fact :--As some people were shooting in the parish of MIGRATION. 137 Trotten, in the county of Sussex, they killed a duck in that dreadful winter, 1708-9, with a silver collar about its neck,* on which were engraven the arms of the King of Denmark. This anecdote the rector of Tratten at that time has often told to a near relation of mine, and to the best of my remembrance, the collar was in the possession of the rector. At present, I do not know any body near the sea-side that will take the trouble to remark at what time of the moon woodcocks first come: if I lived near the sea myself, I would soon tell you more of the matter. One thing I used to observe when I was a sportsman, that there were times in which woodcocks were so sluggish and sleepy, that they would drop again when flushed just before the spaniels, nay, just at the muzzle of a gun that had been fired at them: whether this strange laziness was the effect of a recent fatiguing journey, I shall not presume to say. Nightingales not only never reach Northumberland and Scotland, but also, as I have been always told, Devonshire and Cornwall.+ In those two last counties, we cannot attri- bute the failure of them to the want of warmth: the defect in the west is rather a presumptive argument that these birds come over to us from the continent at the narrowest passage, and do not stroll so far westward. Let me hear from your own observation whether skylarks * T[ have read a like anecdote of a swan. + Ina western direction the nightingale visits Dorsetshire and the eastern part only of Devonshire; is never heard in Cornwall; visits Somersetshire, and goes northward on the western side of England as high as Carlisle. On the eastern side it is never heard beyond the city of York, yet visits much higher latitudes on the European continent. Linneus includes it in his Fauna Suecica. Great pains were taken by (I think) Sir John Sinclair to establish the nightingale in Scotland, but without success. An old notion referred to by Montagu, that the nightingale possibly might not be found in any part but where cowslips grow plentifully, seems incorrect: cowslips grow iu great luxuriance in Glamorganshire, and also north of Carlisle. A gentle- man of Gower, which is the peninsula beyond Swansea, procured from Norfolk and Surrey, a few years back, some scores of young nightingales, hoping that an acquaintance with his beautiful woods and their mild climate would induce a second visit; but the law of Nature was too strong for him, and nota single bird returned. Dyer, in his Grongar Hill, makes the nightingale the companion of his muse in the vale of Towey or Carmarthen, but this is a poetical licence, as this bird is not heard there.—W. Y. 138 MIGRATION, do not dust. I think they do; and if thev do, whether they wash also.* The alauda pratensis of Ray was the poor dupe that was educating the booby of a cuckoo mentioned in my letter « * October last.t Your letter came too late for me to procure a ring-ousel for Mr. Tunstal during their autumnal visit; but I will endeavour to get him one when they call on us again in April. I am glad that you and that gentleman saw my Andalusian birds; I hope they answered your expectation. Royston, or grey crows, are winter birds that come much about the same time witht the woodcock: they, like the fieldfare and redwing, have no apparent reason for migra- tion ; for, as they fare in the winter like their congeners, sc might they, in all appearance, in the summer.f Was not Tenant, when a boy, mistaken? Did he not find a missel- thrush’s nest, and take it for the nest of a fieldfare P The stock-dove or wood-pigeon, enas Rai, is the last winter bird of passage which appears with us,§ and is not seen till towards the end of November. About twenty _years ago, they abounded in the district of Selborne, and strings of them were seen morning and evening that reached a mile or more; but since the beechen woods have been greatly thinned, they have much decreased in number. The ring-dove, palumbus Raii, stays with us the whole year, and breeds several times through the summer. Before I received your letter of October last, I had just remarked in my journal that the trees were unusually green. This uncommon verdure lasted on late into November, and may be accounted for from a late spring, a cool and moist * Larks certainly dust, and, in a cage, wash themselves, but I am not aware that they do the latter when in a wild state—Fo. + Letter xxxviu. to the Hon. Daines Barrington. + The Royston crow breeds, and is stationary, on all the west coast of Scotland ; and it is probable that most of those which visit England during winter, arrive from Sweden and Norway, or the countries adjacent,—few, if any, of the Scotch individuals leaving their regular abodes.—W. J. § Here, as in a previous passage, Mr. White has spoken of the wood-pigeon as synonimous with the stock-dove. It is more usual to apply that name to the ring-dove. Perhaps, with the view of avoiding confusion, it would be better that the use of the name wood-pigeon should be altogether abandoned, —Mer Bennett, HARVEST BRUG—TURNIP FHY. 139 summer, but more particularly from vast armies of chafers, or tree-beetles, which, in many places, reduced whole woods to a leafless naked state. These trees shot again at mid- summer, and then retained their foliage till very late in the year. My musical friend, at whose house I am now visiting, has tried all the owls that are his near neighbours, with a pitch- pipe set at concert pitch, and finds they all hoot in B flat. He will examine the nightingales next spring. LETTER XLII. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. SELBORNE, March 30, 1771. Deaz Srr,—There is an insect with us, especially on chalky districts, which is very troublesome and teasing all the latter end of the summer, getting into people’s skins, especially those of women and children, and raising tumours which itch intolerably. This animal (which we call an harvest bug) is very minute, scarce discernible to the naked eye, of a bright scarlet colour, and of the genus of acarus.* They are to be met with in gardens, on kidney beans, or any legumens, but prevail only in the hot months of summer. Warreners, 4s some have assured me, are much infested by them on chalky downs, where these insects swarm sometimes to so infinite a degree as to discolour their nets, and to give them a reddish cast; while the men are so bitten as to be thrown into fevers. There is a small, long, shining fly in these parts, very troublesome to the housewife, by getting into the chimneys, and laying its eggs in the bacon while it is drymg. These eggs produce maggots, called jumpers, which, harbouring in * Most probably acarus autwmnalis. It buries itself at the roots of the bairs on the extremities, producing intolerable itching, attended by inflammation and considerable tumours, and sometimes e7en occasioning fevers.— W. «, 140 NOXIOUS INSECTS. the gammons and best part of the hogs, eat down to the bone, and make great waste. This fly I suspect to be a variety of the musca putris of Linneus. It is to be seen in the summer in farm kitchens, on the bacon-racks, and about the mantel-pieces and on the ceilings. The insect that infests turnips, and many crops in the garden, (destroying often whole fields, while in their seed- ling leaves,) is an animal that wants to be better known. The country people here call it the turnip fly and black dolphin ; but I know it to be one of the coleoptera, the “chrysomela oleracea, saltatoria, femoribus posticis crassissi- mis,” *—“ The cabbage chrysomela, moving by a leap, with very thick hind-legs.”” In very hot summers they abound to an amazing degree, and, as you walk in a field, or ina garden, make a pattering like rain, by jumping on the leaves of the turnips or cabbages. There is an oestrus, known in these parts to every plough- boy, which, because it is omitted by Linneeus, is also passed over by late writers; and that is the curvicauda of old Mouffet, mentioned by Derham in his Physico-Theology, p- 250: an insect worthy of remark, for depositing its eggs, as it flies, in so dexterous a manner on the single hairs of the legs and flanks of grass-horses. But then, Derham is mistaken when he advances that this oestrus is the parent of * This is most probably the haltica nemoruwm, called by the farmers the Fly and Black Jack, so well described by Messrs. Kirby and Spence, in their admirable chapters on indirect injuries. It attacks and devours the first cotyledon leaves, as soon as they are unfolded; so that, on account of their ravages, the land is often obliged to be resown, and with no better success. By these entomologists it is stated, on the authority of an eminent agriculturist, that, from this cause alone, the loss sustained in the turnip crops in Devon- shire, in 1786, was not less than 100,000/. Great damage is also sometimes done by the little cwrcwlio contractus, which, in the same manner, pierces a hole in the cuticle. When the plant is more advanced, and out of dange: from these pigmy foes, the black larva of a saw-fly takes their place, and occasionally does no little mischief, whole districts being sometimes stripped by them, and, in 1783, many thousand acres were on this account ploughed up. The caterpillar of papilio brassica is sometimes found in great numbers, and the wire-worm also does occasionally great damage, both to turnips and other vegetable and flower-roots. Mr. Kirby mentions a field in which one~ fourth was destroyed, and which the owner calculated at 1007. One year, the same person sowed a field three times with turnips, which were twice wholly, and the third time a great part, cut off by this insect—W. J. oau4a pis o> Phang tibea Tur Peacock. (Pavo cristatus.) PEACOCKS. 141 that wonderful star-tailed maggot which he mentions after. wards ; for more modern entomologists have discovered that - singular production to be derived from the egg of the musca chameleon. See Geoffroy, t. 17, f. 4. A full history of noxious insects, hurtful in the field, garden, and house, suggesting all the known and _ lkel means of destroying them, would be allowed by the public to be a most useful and important work. What knowledge there is of this sort lies scattered, and wants to be collected : great improvements would soon follow of course. A know- ledge of the properties, economy. propagation, and, in short, of the life and conversation, of these animals, is a necessary step to lead us to some method of preventing their depredations. As far as 1 am a judge, nothing would recommend ento- mology more than some neat plates that should well express the generic distinctions of insects according to Linneus; for, 1 am well assured, that many people would study insects, could they set out with a more adequate notion of those distinctions that can be conveyed at first by words alone. LETTER XLIV. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, 1770, Dear Srr,—Happening to make a visit to my neighbour’s peacocks, I could not help observing, that the trains of those magnificent birds appear by no means to be their tails, those long feathers growing not from their wropygiwm, but all up their backs. A range of short, brown, stiff feathers, about six inches long, fixed in the wropygiwm, is the real tail, and serves as the fulerwm to prop the train, which is long and top-heavy, when set on end. When the train is up, nothing appears of the bird before but its head and neck; but this would not be the case, were these long feathers fixed only in the rump, as may be seen by the turkey cock, when in a strutting attitude. By a strong muscular vibra- 142 NOTES OF OWLS AND CUCKOOS. tion, these birds can make the shafts of their long feathers clatter like the swords of a sword-dancer ; they then trample very quick with their feet, and run backwards towards the females. I should tell you that I have got an uncommon calculus zgogropila, taken out of the stomach of a fat ox. It is perfectly round, and about the size of a large Seville orange ; such are, I think, usually flat. LETTER XLV. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. SELBoRNE, Aug. 1, 1771. Dear Str,—From what follows, it will appear that neither owls nor cuckoos keep to one note. A friend remarks that many (most) of his owls hoot in B flat ; but that one went almost half a note below A. ‘The pipe he tried their notes by was a common half-crown pitch-pipe, such as masters use for tuning of harpsichords; it was the common London itch. : A neighbour of mine, who is said to have a nice ear remarks that the owls about this village hoot in three different keys, in G flat or F sharp, in B flat, and A flat. He heard two hooting to each other, the one in A flat, and the other in B flat. Query: Do these different notes pro- ceed from different species, or only from various individuals P The same person finds, upon trial, that the note of the cuckoo (of which we have but one species,) varies in different individuals; for, about Selborne wood, he found they were mostly in D; he heard two sing together, the one in D, and the other in D sharp, which made a disagreeable concert ; he afterwards heard one in D sharp, and about Wolmer Forest, some in C. As to nightingales, he says, that their notes are so short, and their transitions so rapid, that he cannot well ascertain their key. Perhaps in a cage, and in a room, their notes may be more distinguishable. This person has tried to settle the notes of a swift, ard of MIGRATION. 143 several other small birds, but cannot bring them to any criterion. AsI have often remarked that redwings are some of the first birds that suffer with us in severe weather, it is no wonder at all that they retreat from Scandinavian winters ; and much more the ordo of gralle, who all, to a bird, forsake the northern -parts of Europe at the approach of winter. “Gralle tanquam conjurate unanimiter in fugam se conji- ciunt ; ne earum unicam quidem inter nos habitantem mventre possimus ; ut enim estate in australibus degere nequeunt ob defectum lumbricorum, terramque siccam ; tta nec in frigrdis ob eandem causam,” “The gralle, as if by agreement, take flight, nor can we find one residing here; for as, during summer, the deficiency of earth-worms and the hardness of the ground prevents them from abiding in hot countries ; so neither can they dwell in cold climes, for the same reason,” says Ekmarck, the Swede, in his ingenious little treatise called Migrationes Aviwm, which, by all means, you ought to read, while your thoughts run on the subject of migration.— See Amenitates Academice, vol. iv. p. 565. Birds may be so circumstanced as to be obliged to migrate in one country, and not in another; but the gralle (which procure their food from marshes and boggy ground,) must, in winter, forsake the more northerly parts of Europe, or perish for want of food. Iam glad you are making inquiries from Linneus con- cerning the woodcock; it is expected of him that he should be able to account for the motions and manner of life of the animals of his own Fauna. Faunists, as you observe, are too apt to acquiesce in bare * descriptions, and a few synonymes: the reason is plain, because all that may be done at home in a man’s study; but the investigation of the life and conversation of animals is aconcern of much more trouble and difficulty, and is not to be attained but by the active and inquisitive, ard by those that reside much in the country. Foreign systematists are, 1 observe, much tuo vague in their specific differences; which are almost universally con- stituted by one or two particular marks, the rest of the description running in general terms. But our countryman, the excellent Mr. Ray, is the only describer that conveys 144, WooODCOCKS.—BATS. some precise idea in every term or word, maintaining his superiority over his followers and imitators, in spite of the advantage of fresh discoveries and modern information. At this distance of years, it is not in my power to recol- lect at what periods woodcocks used to be sluggish or alert, when I was a sportsman; but, upon my mentioning this circumstance to a friend, he thinks he has observed them to be remarkably listless against snowy, foul weather; if this should be the case, then the inaptitude for flying arises: only from an eagerness for food, as sheep are observed to be very intent on grazing against stormy wet evenings. LETTER XLVI. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. September, 1771. Dear Str,—The summer through, I have seen but two of that large species of bat which I call vespertilio altivolans, — from its manner of feeding high in the air. I procured one of them, and found it to be a male, and made no doubt, as they accompanied together, that the other was a female ; but happening, in an evening or two, to procure the other likewise, I was somewhat disappointed when it appeared to be also of the same sex. This circumstance, and the great scarcity of this sort, at least in these parts, occasions some suspicions in my mind whether it is really a species, or whether it may not be the male part of the more known species, one of which may supply many females, as is known to be the case in sheep, and some other quadru- peds. But this doubt can only be cleared by a farther examination, and some attention to the sex, of more speci- mens. All that I know at present is, that my two were amply furnished with the parts of generation, much resem- bling those of a boar. In the extent of their wings, they measured fourteen inches and a half, and four inches and a half from the nose. to the tip of the tail: their heads were large, their nostrils. FERN OWL. 145 pilobated, their shoulders broad and muscular, and their whole bodies fleshy and plump. Nothing could be more sleek and soft than their fur, which was of a bright chestnut colour ; their maws were full of food, but so macerated, that the quality could not be distinguished; their livers, kidneys, and hearts, were large, and their bowels covered with fat. They weighed each, when entire, full one ounce and one drachm. Within the ear, there was somewhat of a peculiar structure that I did not understand perfectly ; but refer it to the observation of the curious anatomist. These creatures send forth a very rancid and offensive smell. LETTER XLVILI. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, 1771. Drak Stz,—On the twelfth of July, I had a fair opportu- nity of contemplating the motions of the caprimulgus, or fern-owl, as it was playing round a large oak that swarmed with scarabei solstitiales, or fern-chafers.* The powers ot its wing were wonderful, exceeding, if possible, the various evolutions and quick turns of the swallow genus. But the circumstance that pleased me most was, that I saw it dis- tinctly more than once put out its short leg when on the wing, and, by a bend of the head, deliver somewhat into its mouth.t If it takes any part of its prey with its foot, as I * Several species of phalena live upon the oak; but one, the phalena viridana of Donovan’s British Insects, and which also appears to have been -leader.— Rev. J. Mitrorp. L2 148 SWALLOWS. between the eyes into the upper mandible, have a more delicate feeling in their beaks than other round-billed birds, and can grope for their meat when out of sight. Perhaps, then, their associates attend them on the motive of interest, as greyhounds wait on the motions of their finders, and as lions are said to do on the yelpings of jackals. Lapwings avi starlings sometimes associate. LETTER XLIX TO THE SAME. March 9, 1772. Dear Str,—As a gentleman and myself were walking, on the 4th of last November, round the sea-banks at Newhaven, near the mouth of the Lewes river, in pursuit of natural knowledge, we were surprised to see three house swallows gliding very swiftly by us. That morning was rather chilly, with the wind at north-west; but the tenor of the weather for some time before had been delicate, and the noons remarkably warm. From this incident, and from repeated accounts which I meet with, I am more and more induced to believe that many of the swallow kind do not depart from this island, but lay themselves up in holes and caverns, and do, insect-like and bat-like, come forth at mild times, and then retire again to their latebre, or lurking-places. Nor make I the least doubt but that, if I lived at Newhaven, Seaford, Brighthelmstone,* or any of those towns near the chalk cliffs of the Sussex coast, by proper observations, I should see swallows stirring at periods of the winter, when the noons were soft and inviting, and the sun warm and invigorating. And J am the more of this opinion, from what I have remarked during some of our late springs, and though some swallows did make their appearance about the usual * Muck as I have resided in Brighton, and many as my inquiries have been, Tt have never heard of or seen swallows at any unusual periods in that neigh- bourhood.—Eb, TORTOISE. 149 time, viz., the 13th or 14th of April, yet, meeting with au harsh reception, and blustering cold north-east winds, they immediately withdrew, absconding for several days till the weather gave them better encouragement. LETTER L. TO THE SAME. April 12, 1772. Dear Srr,—While I was in Sussex last autumn, my resi- dence was at the village near Lewes, from whence I had formerly the pleasure of writing to you. On the Ist of November, I remarked that the old tortoise, formerly men- tioned, began first to dig the ground, in order to the forming of its hybernaculum, which it had fixed on just beside a great turf of hepaticas. It scrapes out the ground with its fore- feet, and throws it up over its back with its hind; but the motion of its legs is ridiculously slow,* little exceeding the hour-hand of a clock, and suitable to the composure of an animal said to be a whole month in performing one feat of copulation. Nothing can be more assiduous than this crea- ture, night and day, in scooping the earth, and forcing its great body into the cavity ; but, as the noons of that season proved unusually warm and sunny, it was continually inter- rupted, and called forth by the heat, in the middle of the day ; and though I continued there till the 13th of November, yet the work remained unfinished. Harsher weather and frosty mornings would have quickeued its operations. No part of its behaviour ever struck me more than the extreme timidity it always expresses with regard to rain; for though it has a shell that would secure it against the wheel of a loaded cart, yet does it discover as much solicitude about * The motion of the tortoise’s legs being, as Mr. White remarks, “ridiculously tlow,” is taken notice of in Homer’s Hymn to Hermes— “ Feeding far from man, the flowery herb, Slow moving with his feet.”—Rev. J. Mitrorn, 150 TORTOISE. rain as a lady dressed in all her best attire, shuffling away on the first sprinklings, and running its head up in a corner. If attended to, it becomes an excellent weather-glass ; for as sure as it walks elate, and, as it were, on tiptoe, feeding with great earnestness in a morning, so sure will it rain before night. It is totally a diurnal animal, and never pretends to stir after it becomes dark. The tortoise, like other reptiles, has an arbitrary stomach, as well as lungs ; and can refrain from eating as well as breathing for a great part of the year. When first awakened, it eats nothing; nor again in the autumn, before it retires: through the height of the summer it feeds ‘voraciously, devouring all the food that comes in its way. J was much taken with its sagacity in discerning those that do it, kind offices; for, as soon as the good old lady comes in sight who has waited on it for more than thirty years, it hobbles towards its benefactress with awk- ward alacrity, but remains inattentive to strangers. Thus not only “the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib,’* but the most abject reptile and torpid of -beings dis- tinguishes the hand that feeds it, and is touched with the feelings of gratitude. P.S.—In about three days after I left Sussex, the tortoise retired into the ground under the hepatica.t * Tsaiah i. 3. + Tortoises are often kept in gardens as a curiosity, where they continue perfectly healthy, and arrive at an almost incredible age. When kept in the stove or green-house, their torpidity does not take place, although at the annual period for its occurrence, they are generally noticed for a short time to be more yestless and irritable. The following are some remarkable instances of longevity recorded by Mr. Murray, in his Experimental Researches :—In the library of Lambeth Palace is the shell of a land tortoise, brought there avout the year 1623 ; it lived to 1730, a period of 107 years. Another was placed in the garden of the episcopal palace of Fulham, by Bishop Laud, in :625, and died in 1753—128 years: the age at which these were placed in the gardens was, of course, unknown. Another is mentioned 220 years, and cne in Exeter Change, 800: the latter, however does not seem well authen- ticated, though there can be no doubt of the period of their existence being very extensive. Mr. Murray has added some very interesting information regarding the habits of a tortoise kept at Peterborough :— “From a document belonging to the archives of the cathedral, called the Bishop's Barn, it is well ascertained that the tortoise at Peterborough must have been about 220 years old. Bishop Marsh’s predecessor in the see of Peterborough had remembered it above sixty years, and could recognise no visible change. He was the seventh bishop who had worn the mitre during TORTOISE. Ldl LETTER LI. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. Setporne, March 15, 177% Dear Sir,—By my journal for last autumn, it appears that the house-martins bred very late, and staid very late in these parts; for on the 1st of October 1 saw young martins in its sojourn there. If I mistake not, its sustenance and abode were provided for in this document. Its shell was perforated, in order to attach it to a tree, &c., to limit its ravages among the strawberry borders. “ The animal had its antipathies and predilections, It would eat endive, green peas, and even the leek; while it positively rejected asparagus, parsley, and spinage. In the early part of the season, its favourite pabulum was the flowers of the dandelion (leontodon taraxacum), of which it would devour twenty at a meal; and lettuce (lactuca sativa) ; of the latter a good sized one at a time; but, if placed between lettuce and the flowers of the dandelion, it would forsake the former for the latter. It was also partial to the pulp of an orange, which it sucked greedily. “ About the latter end of June (discerning the times and the seasons), it looked out for fruit, when its former choice was forsaken. It ate currants, raspberries, pears, apples, peaches, nectarines, &c., the riper the better ; but would not taste cherries Of fruits, however, the strawberry and gooseberry were the most esteemed; it made great havoc among the strawberry borders, and would take a pint of gooseberries at intervals. The gardener told me it knew him well, the hand that generally fed it, and would watch him atten- tively at the gooseberry bush, where it was sure to take its station while he plucked the fruit. “T could not get it to take the root of the dandelion, nor indeed any root I offered it, as that of the carrot, turnip, &c. All animal food was discarded, nor would it take any liquid, at least, neither milk nor water ; and when a lezé was moist, it would shake it, to expel the adhering wet. “This animal moved with apparent ease, though pressed by a weight of 18 stones; itseif weighed 13341bs. In cloudy weather, it would scoop out a cavity, generally in a southern exposure, where it reposed, torpid and inactive, until the genial influence of the sun roused it from its slumber. When in this state, the eyes were closed and the head and neck a little contracted, though not drawn within the shell. Its sense of smelling was so acute, that it was roused from its lethargy if any person approached even at a distance of twelve feet. “ About the beginning of October, or the latter end of September, it began to immure itself, and had, for that purpose, for many years selected an angle 152 MARTIN S.—RING-OUSELS. their nests, nearly fledged ; and again, on the 21st of October, we had at the next house a nest full of young martins, just ready to fly, and the old ones were hawking for insects with great alertness. The next morning the brood forsook their nest, and were flying round the village. From this day I never saw one of the swallow kind till November the 3rd ; when twenty, or perhaps thirty, house-martins were playing all day long by the side of the Hanging-wood, and over my fields. Did these small weak birds, some of which were nest- lings twelve days ago, shift their quarters at this late season © of the year to the other side of the northern tropic? Or rather, 1s it not more probable that the next church, ruin, chalk-cliff, steep covert, or perhaps sand-bank, lake, or pool, (as a more northern naturalist would say,) may become their hybernaculum, and afford them a ready and obvious retreat ? We now begin to expect our vernal migration of ring- ousels every week. Persons worthy of credit assure me that ring-ousels were seen at Christmas, 1770, in the forest of Bere, on the southern verge of this county. Hence we may conclude that their migrations are only internal, and not extended to the continent southward, if they do at first come at all from the northern parts of this island only, and not from the north of Europe. Come from whence they will, it is plain, from the fearless disregard that they show for men or guns, that they have been little accustomed to places of much resort. Navigators mention that in the Isle of Ascen- sion, and other desolate districts, birds are so little acquainted with the human form, that they settle on men’s shoulders, and have no more dread of a sailor than they would have of a goat that was grazing. A young man at Lewes, in Sussex, assured me that about seven years ago ring-ousels abounded of the garden: it entered in an inclined plane, excavating the earth in the manner of tne mole; the depth to which it penetrated varied with the character of the approaching season, being from one to two feet, according as the winter was mild or severe. It may be added, that, for nearly a month prior to this entry into its dormitory, it refused all sustenance whatever. The animal emerged about the end of April, and remained for at least a fortnight before it ventured on taking any species of food. Its skin was not pereeptibly cold: its respiration, entirely effected through the nostrils, was languid. I visited the animal, for the last time, on the 9th of June, 1813, during a thunder storm : it then lay under tne shelter of a cauliflower, and apparently torpid.””—Murray’s Experimental Researches —W. J. AFFECTIONS OF BIRDS. 15a so about that town in the autumn, that he killed sixteen himself in one afternoon: he added farther, that some had appeared since in every autumn ; but he could not find that anv had been observed before the season in which he shot so many. | myself have found these birds in little parties in the autumn, cantoned all along the Sussex downs, wherever there were shrubs and bushes, from Chichester to Lewes: particularly in the autumn of 1770. LETTER LILI. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. SELBORNE, March 26, 1773 Drar Srr,—The more [ reflect on the cropy), or natural affection of animals, the more I am astonished at its effects. Nor is the violence of its affection more wonderful than the shortness of its duration.* Thus every hen is in her turn the virago of the yard, in proportion to the helplessness of her brood; and will fly in the face of a dog or a sow in defence of those chickens, which in a few weeks she will drive before her with relentless cruelty. This affection sublimes the passions, quickens the inven- tion, and sharpens the sagacity of the brute creation. Thus an hen, just become a mother, is no longer that placid bird she used to be; but, with feathers standing on end, wings hovering, and clucking note, she runs about like one pos- sessed. Dams will throw themselves in the way of the greatest danger in order to avert it from their progeny. Thus a partridge will tumble along before a sportsman, in order to draw away the dogs from her helpless covey. In the time of nidification, the most feeble birds will assault the * There are two well authenticated instances on record of bustards attark- ing men on horseback at night, when their haunts have been invaded, and probably in defence of their young. One instance is mentioned on his own knowledge by Sir Richard Colt Hoare in his History of Wilts, and the other I think, by Mr. Gilpin.—Eb. L5+4 AFFECTIONS UF BIRDS, most rapacious. All the hirwndines of a village are up in arms at the sight of an hawk, whom they will persecute till he leaves that district. A very exact observer has often remarked, that a pair of ravens, nesting in the rock of Gibraltar, would suffer no vulture or eagle to rest near their station, but would drive them from the hill with an amazing fury: even the blue thrush, at the season of breeding, would dart out from the clefts of the rocks to chase away the kestrel or the sparrow-hawk.* If you stand near the nest of a bird that has young, she will not be induced to betray them by an inadvertent fondness, but will wait about at a distance, with meat in her mouth, for an hour together. Should I farther corroborate what I have advanced above by some anecdotes which I probably may have mentioned before in conversation, yet you will, I trust, pardon the repetition for the sake of the illustration. The fly-catcher of the Zoology (the stoparola of Ray) builds every year in the vines that grow on the walls of my house.+ A pair of these little birds had one year inadvertently placed their nest on a naked bough, perhaps in a shady time, not being aware of the inconvenience that followed; but an hot sunny season coming on before the brood was half fledged, the reflection of the wall became insupportable, and must inevitably have destroyed the tender young, had not affection suggested an expedient, and prompted the parent birds to hover over the nest all the hotter hours, while, with wings expanded, and mouths gaping for breath, they screened off the heat from their suffering offspring.t * Many birds, when their nest has been discovered with their young in it, will utter plaintive and distressed cries. I have known blackbirds fly at the face of a person who has taken a young one out of their nest, and have seen a cat assailed by them, and obliged to retreat from the neighbourhood of their nest.— Ep. + Muscicapa grisola, Linn.—W. J. + This is a charming instance of parental affection, but perhaps not so much 60 - the following. During a wet day, a house swallow’s nest became saturated, and fell to the ground. It contained five unfledged young ones. A lady, who saw the accident, collected the brood, placed the lining of the nest in a small basket, put the young ones in it, and deposited the basket inside the window of her dressing-room. She soon had the pleasure of seeing the old birds come and feed their offspring. One of them was so weak, that it did not ‘eceive te same quantity of food as the others, and, consequently, when they AFFECTIONS OF BIRDS. 155 A farther instance I once saw of notable sagacity in a willow-wren, which had built in a bank in my fields. This bird, a friend and myself had observed as she sat in her nest, but were particularly careful not to disturb her, though we saw she eyed us with some degree of jealousy. Some days after, as we passed that way, we were desirous of remarking how this brood went on; but no nest could be found, till I happened to take up a large bundle of long green moss, as it were carelessly thrown over the nest, in order to dodge the eye of any impertinent intruder.* A still more remarkable mixture of sagacity and instinct occurred to me one day, as my people were pulling off the lining of a hot-bed, in order to add some fresh dung. From out of the side of this bed leaped an animal with great agility, that made a most grotesque figure ; nor was it without great difficulty that it could be taken, when it proved to be a large were able to leave the nest, this helpless one remained, only half fledged, and suffering from cold, when it had the whole nest to itself. There was at the time a bitter north-east wind, which penetrated through the openings in the basket-work, and which, of course, added to the misery of the poor bird. All at once the old ones were seen to come with clay in their mouths, and in a short time they built up a wall against the basket, which effectually screened the young one from the cold wind. It was reared, and took its flight. 1 cannot resist giving another strong instance of parental affection in the feathered tribe :— A gentleman in my neighbourhood had directed one of his waggons to bs packed with sundry hampers and boxes, intending to send it to Worthing, where he was going. For some time his journey was delayed, and he tkere- fore directed that the waggon should be placed in a shed in his yard, packed as it was, till it should be convenient for him to send it off. While it was in the shed, a pair of robins built their nest among some straw in the waggon, and had hatched their young just before it was sent away. One of the old birds, (the female, most probably, for what will-not a female do?) instead of being fright- ened away by the motion of the waggon, only left its nest from time to time, for the purpose of flying to the nearest hedge for food for its young ; and thu alternately affording food and warmth to them, it arrived at Worthing. The affection of this bird having attracted the notice of the waggoner, he took care, in unloading, not to disturb the robin’s nest; and my readers:will, I am sure, be glad to hear that the robin and its young ones returned in safety to Walton Heath, being the place from whence they had set out. The distance the waggon went, in going and returning, could not have been less than one hundre1 miles.—Eb. (Gleanings). * I have known a fly-catcher, whose nest 1 had discovered in a pear tree against my garden wall, conceal it by drawing some of the leaves of the tres over it.—Eb. 156 AFFECTIONS OF BIRDS. whitie-bellied field-mouse, with three or four young car ging to her teats by their mouths and feet. It was amazing that the desultory and rapid motions of this dam should not oblige her litter to quit their hold, especially when it appeared that they were so young as to be both naked and blind | * To these instances of tender attachment, many more of which might be daily discovered by those that are studious ot nature, may be opposed that rage of affection, that monu- strous perversion of the oropy), which induces some females of the brute creation to devour their young, because their owners have handled them too freely, or removed them from place to place !+ Swine, and sometimes the more gentle race of dogs and cats, are guilty of this horrid and preposterous murder. When I hear now and then of an abandoned mother that destroys her offspring, I am not so much amazed; since reason perverted, and the bad passions let loose, are capable of any enormity ; but why the parental feelings of brutes, that usually flow in one most uniform tenor, should sometimes be so extravagantly diverted, 1 leave to abler philosophers than myself to determine. * T have seen the same thing with our common bat. I once slept, during a very stormy night, in a house of considerable age, and not in the best state of repair. One of the windows in my bed-room had been built up, but so loosely, that bats and swifts had free access between the wall and a large board that was placed on the inside, to add to the warmth of the room. On the night above mentioned, this board was blown down inwards, and the room immedi- ately filled with bats and swifts. Many of the former had one or two young adhering to their breasts, while flying round the room, and, even when knocked down, were not freed from their burdens. Above sixty were caught in this small space, and at least as many must have escaped. They appear to be on terms of perfect amity with the swifts——W. J. + The pleasure which animals derive in having their milk drawn off by their young, causes much of the tender attachment they have for them. Thus, a tox which had lost its litter, stole a young puppy to suckle it; and many similar instances might be brought forward. When animals, as is sometimes but not often the case, have no milk after parturition, they frequently devout their young —ED. “I TEALS.—WHITE OWLS. 15 LETTER LIII. TO THE SAME. Se.porne, July 8, 1773. Dear Str,—Some young men went down lately to a pond on the verge of Wolmer Forest to hunt flappers, or young wild ducks, many of which they caught, and, among the rest, some very minute yet well-fledged wild fowls alive, which, upon examination, I found to be teals. I did not know till then that teals ever bred in the south of England, and was much pleased with the discovery: this 1 look upon as a great stroke in natural history. We have had, ever since I can remember, a pair of white owls that constantly breed under the eaves of this church. As I have paid good attention to the manner of lite of these birds during their season of breeding, which iasts the summer through, the following remarks may not perhaps be unac- ceptable. About an hour before sunset (for then the mice begin to run) they sally forth in quest of prey, and hunt all round the hedges of meadows and small inclosures for them, which seem to be their only food. In this irregular country we can stand on an eminence, and see them beat the fields over like a setting-dog, and often drop down in the grass or corn. JI have minuted these birds with my watch for an hour together, and have found that they return to their nest, the one or the other of them, about once in five minutes ;* reflecting, at the same time, on the adroitness that every animal is possessed of, as far as regards the well-being of itself and offspring. But a piece of address which they show when they return loaded, should not, I think be passed over * Colonel Montagu has observed (see Ornithological Dict., p. 35), that ihe wren returns once in wo minutes, or, upon an average, thirty-six times in an hour; and this continued full sixteen hours in a day, which, if equallv divided between eight young ones, each would receive seventy-two feeds in the day. To this may be added, that the swallow never fails to return to its nest at the expiration of every second or third minute.—Rev. J. Mitrorp. 158 WHITE OWLS. in silence. As they take their prey with their claws, so they carry it in their claws to their nest; but, as the feet are necessary in their ascent under the tiles, they constantly perch first on the roof of the chancel, and shift the mouse from their claws to their bill, that the feet may be at liberty to take hold of the plate on the wall, as they are rising under the eaves. White owls seem not (but in this I am not positive) to hoot at all;* all that clamorous hooting appears to me to come from the wood kinds. The white owl does indeed snore and hiss in a tremendous manner; and these menaces well answer the intention of intimidating; for I have known a whole village up in arms on such an occasion, imagining the churchyard to be full of goblins and spectres. White owls also often scream horribly as they fly along: from this screaming, probably, arose the common people’s imaginary species of screech-owl, which they superstitiously think attends the windows of dying persons. ‘The plumage of the remiges of the wings of every species of owl that I have yet examined, is remarkably soft and plant. Perhaps it may be necessary that the wings of these birds should not make much resistance or rushing, that they may be able to steal through the air unheard upon a nimble and watchful quarry. While I am talking of owls, it may not be improper to mention what I was told by a gentleman of the county of Wilts. As they were grubbing a vast hollow pollard ash, that had been the mansion of owls for centuries, he dis- covered at the bottom a mass of matter that at first he could not account for. After some examination, he found that it was a congeries of the bones of mice, (and perhaps of birds and bats,) that had been heaping together for ages, bemg cast up in pellets out of the crops of many generations of inhabitants. For owls cast up the bones, fur, and feathers of what they devour, after the manner of hawks. He believes, he told me, that there were bushels of this kind of substance. When brown owls hoot, their throats swell as big as an hen’s egg. I have known an owl of this species live a full year without any water. Perhaps the case may be the same * White owls do hoot—I have shot them in the act. They also hiss ane scream ; but at night, when not alarmed, hooting 1s the general cry—W. J i : ire mM My “Up THe Sxowy Owr. INSECTS ON BIRDS. 159 with all birds of prey.* When owls fly, they stretch out their legs behind them, as a balance to their large heavy heads ; for, as most nocturnal birds have large eyes and ears, they must have large heads to contain them. Large eyes, I presume, are necessary to collect every ray of light, and large concave ears to command the smallest degree of sound or noise. The hirundines are a most inoffensive, harmless, entertain- ing, social, and useful tribe of birds; they touch no fruit in our gardens; delight, all except one species, in attaching themselves to our houses; amuse us with their migrations, songs, and marvellous agility: and clear our outlets from the annoyances of gnats and other troublesome insects. Some districts in the South Seas, near Guiaquil,t are desolated, it seems, by the infinite swarms of venomous mosquitoes, which fill the air, and render those coasts insupportable. It would be worth inquiring, whether any species of hirundines is found in these regions. Whoever contemplates the myriads of insects that sport in the sunbeams of a summer evening in this country, will soon be convinced to what a degree our atmosphere would be choked with them were it not for the friendly interposition of the swallow tribe.t * All birds of prey are capable of sustaining the want of food and water for long periods, particularly the latter, but of which they also seem remarkably fond, drinking frequently in a state of nature, and, during summer, washing almost daily —W. J. + See Ulloa’s Travels, + This passage alone ought to be sufficient to prevent persons from wantonly destroying this useful, engaging, aud elegant bird. If they were more encou- raged than they are about hop-grounds,—suitable erections being made, against which they would build,—the editor is convinced that much of the blight so common on the bind of hops would be prevented. Mr. Knapp, in his Journal of a Naturalist, remarked, that the immense quantity of flies destroyed in a short space of time, by one individual bird, is scarcely to be credited by those who have not actual experience of the fact. He adds, that he was once present when a swift was shot. It was in th breeding season, when the young were hatched, at which time the parent birds are in the habit of making little excursions into the country, for the purpose of collecting flies, which they bring to their infant progeny. He says, that on picking up the bird, he observed a number of flies, some mutilated, others scarcely injured, crawling out of the bird’s mouth. The throat and pouch seemed absolutely stuffed with them, and an incredible number was at length disgorged. He thinks that he is within compass in stating, that there was a mass of fiies, just caught by this single swift, larger than, when pressed close, would conveniently be contained in the bowl of an ordinary table-spoon.—Eb. 160 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. Many species of birds have their peculiar lice: but the hirundines alone seem to be annoyed with dipterous insects which infest every species, and are so large, in proportion te themselves, that they must be extremely irksome and inju- rious to them. These are the hippobosce hirundinis, with narrow subulated wings, abounding in every nest; and are hatched by the warmth of the bird’s own body during incu- bation, and crawl about under its feathers. A species of them is familiar to horsemen in the south of England, under the name of forest-fly, and, to some, of side-fly, from its running sideways, like a crab. It creeps under the tails and about the groins of horses, which, at their first coming out of the north, are rendered halt frantic by the tickling sensation ; while our own breed little regards them. The curious Reaumur discovered the large eggs, or rather pupe@, of these flies, as big as the flies themselves, which he hatched in his own bosom. Any person that will take the trouble to examine the old nests of either species of swallows, may find in them the black shining cases, or skins, of the pupe of these insects; but, for other particulars, too long fur this place, we refer the reader to L’ Histoire d’ Insectes of that admirable entomologist.—Tom. iv. pl. 11. LETTER LIV. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. SELBORNE, Nov. 9, 1773, Dear Sir,—As you desire me to send you such observations as may occur, I take the liberty of making the following remarks, that you may, according as you think me right or wrong, admit or reject what I here advance, in your intended new edition of the British Zoology. The osprey* was shot about a year ago at Frinsham Pond, a great lake, at about six miles from hence, while it was * British Zoology, vol. i. p. 128. This beautiful bird, the Falco haliactua of Pennant, has been frequently seen and destroyed in this country.—Ep. THE OspREY, OR FisHtnc Hawk. (Falco, or Pandion Halietus. ) MISCELLANEOUS ORSERVATIONS. 161 sitting on the handle of a plough and devouring a fish; it used to precipitate itself into the water, and so take its prey by surprise. A great ash-coloured * butcher-bird was shot last winter in Tisted Park, and a red-backed butcher-bird at Selborne. They are scarce birds in this country. Crowst go in pairs the whole year round. Cornish choughst abound, and breed on Beechy Head, and on all the cliffs of the Sussex coast. § The common wild pigeon,|| or stock-dove, is a bird of pass- age in the south of England, seldom appearing till towards the end of November,—is usually the latest winter bird of passage. Before our beechen woods were so much destroyed, we had myriads of them, reaching in strings for a mile ae as they went out in a morning to feed. They leave early 1 in spring. Where do they breed ? The people of Hampshire and Sussex call the missel-bird the storm-cock,** because it sings early in the spring, in blow- ing, showery weather. Its song often commences with the year: with us it builds much in orchards. A gentleman assures me he has taken the nests of ring- ouselst+ on Dartmoor; they build in banks on the sides of streams. Titlarks {{ not only sing sweetly as they sit on trees, but also as they play and toy about on the wing; and particularly while they are descending, and sometimes as they stand on the ground.§§ Adamson’s||\| testimony seems to me to be avery poor evi- dence that European swallows migrate during our winter * British Zoology, p. 161. + Ibid. p. 167. t Ibid. p. 198. § Cornish choughs abound in the Isle of Man, and breed there. They are also found on the Galloway and Kirkeudbright coasts.—W. J. || British Zoology, vol. i. p. 216. 4 bid. vol, i. p. 224. ** Jn Staffordshire it is called the thrice cock; but for what reason I know not.— Eb. ++ British Zoology, p. 229. tt Ibid. vol. ii. p. 237. §$ Mr. White must have mistaken this for anthusarboreus, or tree-lark. The titlark (anthus pratensis) seldom sits on trees.—W. J. || British Zoology, vol. ii. p. 242. %/*| | have reason to believe that there is no portion of the world in which ewallows congregate at certain seasons, from which they do not periodically wigrate.—Ep. ‘6 162 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. to Senegal; he does not talk at all like an ornithologist, and probably saw only the swallows of that country, which I kuow build within Governor O’ Hara’s hall against the roof. Had he known European swallows, would he not have mentioned the species ? The house-swallow washes by dropping into the water as it flies ;* this species appears commonly about a week before the house-martin, and about ten or twelve days before the swift. In 1772, there were young house-martins ¢ in their nest till October the 23rd. The swift ¢ appears about ten or twelve days later than the house-swallow; viz., about the 24th or 26th of April. Whin-chats § and stone-chatters || stay with us the whole ear. ‘ Some wheatears 4 continue with us the winter through.** Wagtails, all sorts, remain with us all the winter.t+t Bullfinches,t+ when fed on hempseed, often become wholly black. We have vast flocks of female chaffinches §§ all the winter, with hardly any males among them. When you say that, in breeding time the cock snipes |||| make a bleating noise, and a drumming (perhaps I should have rather said a humming), I suspect we mean the same # “The twittering swallow skims the dimpled lake.” “ Aut arguta lacus circumvolitavit hirundo,”—Virert. Few things please me more than watching the evolutions of swallows, as they fly over, and occasionally dip on the smooth surface of a pool of water.—Eb. + British Zoology, vol ii. p. 224. + Ibid. p. 245. § Whin-chat (saxicola rubetra, Bechst.) certainly does migrate. Stone- chat (saxicola rubicola, Bechst.) is a resident, but we receive an accession of numbers yearly.— W. J. || British Zoology, vol. ii. pp. 270, 271. 9 Ibid. p. 269. ** The great body of wheatears migrate regularly ; and it is just possible that a few pairs may remain during the winter, in the southern countries; but I strongly suspect Mr. White, though quoting, must be wrong.—W. J. ++ Mr. White seems only to have known two species of wagtail, the pied und grey. The yellow wagtail is a regular migrater, but is very local in its distribution. Both the others partially migrate in Scotland. Flocks of the first appear in spring, and a few pairs only remain during the winter.—W. J. tt British Zoology, vol. ii. p. 300. §§ Ibid. p. 306. Il] Zoid. p. 358. MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. L6Z thing. However, while they are playing about on the wing, they certainly make a loud piping with their mouths; but whether that bleating or humming is ventriloquous, or pro- ceeds from the motion of their wings, I cannot say; but this I know, that, when this noise happens, the bird is always descending, and his wings are violently agitated. Soon after the lapwings* have done breeding, they con- gregate, and leaving the moors and marshes, betake them- selves to downs and sheep walks. Two years ago + last spring, the little auk was found alive and unhurt, but fluttering and unable to rise, in a lane a few miles from Alresford, where there is a great lake; it was kept a while, but died. I saw young teals{ taken alive in the ponds of Wolmer Forest in the beginning of July last, along with flappers, or young wild ducks. Speaking of the swift,§ that page says, “its drink the dew ;’ whereas it should be, “it drinks on the wing;”’ for all the swallow kind sip their water as they sweep over the face of pools or rivers: like Virgil’s bees, they drink flying— “< flumina summa libant,” “they sip the surface of the stream.” In this method of drinking, perhaps this genus may be peculiar. Of the sedge-bird,|| be pleased to say, it sings most part of the night; its notes are hurrying, but not unpleasing, and imitative of several birds, as the sparrow, swallow, skylark. When it happens to be silent in the night, by throwing a stone or clod into the bushes where it sits, you immediately set it a-singing, or, in other words, though it slumbers sometimes, yet, as soon as it is awakened, it reassumes its song. * British Zoology, vol ii. p. 360. + Ibid. p. 409. ¢ Ibid. p. 475. They breed amongst the ling of Woolmer Forest, and on the extensive heaths near Lephook.—Eb. § Ibid. p. 15. || Lbed. p. 16. *| I have always found this to be the case on passing the willow aits on the river Thameg, in a boat in the evening. The least noise at that time will set these birds singing.~-En. 164 HOUSH-MARTIONS. LETTER LV. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON, SELBORNE, Nov. 20, 1773 Dear Sr1r,—In obedience to your injunctions, I sit down to give you some account of the house-martin, or martlet; and, if my monography of this little domestic and familiar bird should happen to meet with your approbation, I may probably soon extend my inquiries to the rest of the British iren- dines,—the swallow, the swift, and the bank-martin. A few house-martins begin to appear about the 16th of April; usually some few days later than the swallow. Vor some time after they appear, the /irundines in general pay — t no attention to the business of nidification, but play and sport about, either to recruit from the fatigue of their jour- ney, if they do migrate at all, or else hake their blood may recover its true tone and texture after it has been so long benumbed by the severities of winter. About the middle of May, if the weather be fine, the martin be egins to think in earnest of providing a mansion for its family.* The crust or * The following fact strongly illustrates the sense and reflection of a pair of swallows, in the construction of their nests :— The late Earl of Albemarle informed me that a pair of swallows built their nest under the arch of a lime-kiln belonging to him, at its extreme point, and from which three chimneys or flues branched off. At the time the nest was constructing, the heat of the kiln was so great, that only keeping the hand for a short time within the arch produced a painful sensation. In this spot, however, the nest was nearly completed, when the heat caused it to crumble, and full to the ground. A second nest was built in the same spot, and after- wards a third, both of which shared tue same fate. A fourth nest was then built, which stood perfectly well, although the heat of the kiln had by no means abated ; and in this nest the swallows hatched and brought up their young. The following year, another nest was begun and finished in the same spot, and with the same heat in the kiln, which stood the infiuence of the fire, and in which the swallows hatched and reared their brood; and this was done in the same manner on the third year. The fourth year the swallows did not appear, which the lime-burner considered as very ominous of the future succesa ef the kiln. The birds had probably been killed The lime-kiln was on. HOUSE-MARTINS, 1b4 shell of this nest_scems to be formed of such dirt or loam as comes most readily to hand, and is tempered and wrought together with little its of broken straws, to render it tough and tenacious. As this bird often builds against a perpen- dicular wall, without any projecting ledge under it, it requires its utmost efforts to get the first foundation firmly fixed, so that it ad safely carry the superstructure. On this occasion the bird not only clings with its claws, but partly supports itself by strongly inclining its tail against the wall, making that a fulerum; and, thus steadied, it works and plasters the materials into the face of the brick or stone. But, then, that this work may not, while it is soft and green, pull itself down by its own weight, the provident architect has prudence and ee ance enough not to advance her work too fast; but, by building only i in the morning, and by dedicating the rest of the day to food and amusement, gives it sufficient time to dry and harden. About half an inch seems to be sufficient layer for a day. Thus, careful workmen, when they build mud-walls (informed at first, perhaps, by these little birds), raise but a moderate layer at a time, and then desist, lest the work should become top-heavy, and so be Lord Albemarle’s estate, and he was in the constant habit of visiting it, and took much interest in the proceedings of the swallows. In reading the above account, which has been given in Lord Albemarle’s words, it is almost impos- sible not to be struck with the following facts :-— Ist, That the swallows must have discovered and worked up a sort of clay or earth which would stand heat. 2nd, It is, I think, clear, that instinct alone would not have taught them to do this. Let me then ask those who deny any faculties to the animal creation beyond instinct, what faculty induced the birds to alter their original mode of procedure ? 3rd, On returning to the kiln the second and third years, the swallows must have kept in their recollection, not only the fact that the earth instinct had taught them to use in building their nests would not bear the heat of the kiln, but they must also have remembered the sort of earth or clay which was requisite, and also the necessity of making use of it in that peculiar place. Mr. White has elsewhere remarked, that philosophers have defined instinct to be that secret influence by which every species is impelled naturally to pursue, at al/ times, the same way or tract, without any teaching or example ; whereas recigon, without instruction, would often vary, and do that by many methods which instinct effects by one alone. If this definition between instinct and reason is correct, the above mentioned fact would seem to entitle these swallows to be considered as possessed of no ordinary degree of sense and intelligence, if not of something approaching to reason—Ep. (Gleantnys.) 166 HOUSE-MARTINS. ruined by its own weight. By this method, in about ten or twelve days, is formed an hemispheric nest, with a sinall aperture towards the top,—strong, compact, and warm, and perfectly fitted for all the purposes for which it was intended. But, then, nothing is more common than for the house-spar- row, as soon as the shell is finished, to seize on it as its own, to eject the owner, and to line it after its own manner.* After so much labour’ is bestowed in erecting a mansion, as nature seldom works in vain, martins will breed on, for several years together, in the same nest, where it happens to be well sheltered and secure from the injuries of weather. The shell, or crust, of the nest is a sort of rustic-work, full of knobs and protuberances on the outside; nor is the inside of those that I have examined smoothed with any exactness at all; but is rendered soft and warm, and fit for incubation, by a lining of small straws, grasses, and feathers; and some- times by a bed of moss interwoven with wool. In this nest, they tread, or engender, frequently during the time of building ; and the hen lays from three to five white eggs. At first, when the young are hatched, and are in a naked and helpless condition, the parent birds, with tender assiduity, carry out what comes away from fer young. Were it not for this affectionate cleanliness, the nestlings would soon be burnt up and destroyed, in so deep and hollow a nest, by their own caustic excrement. In the quadruped creation, * Several interesting facts have been communicated to me of the revenge- ful disposition of martins, when their nests have been invaded by sparrows. In one instance at Hampton Court, a gentleman informed me the morning it took place that a couple of sparrows had hatched their young in a martin’s nest. Two or three days afterwards, a number of martins came, pecked the nest to pieces, and I saw the unfledged young dead on the ground beneath the window. In another instance, the foreman of the carpenters at the palace, - Hampton Court, informed me, that while working at his bench close to the window, a pair of swallows built their nest in a corner of it and where he frequently watched it. When completed some sparrows took possession of it, and deposited their eggs. While the hen was sitting on them, several martins came and closed up the hole. After a few weeks he examined the nest and found the bird dead on her eggs. I could mention other similar instances.— Ep. + This is certainly a mistake. Mr. White could not have seen the cireum- stance even had it taken place, from the construction of the nest. In fact, both the martin and swift copulate on the wing as I have frequently seen them do.— Ep. HOUSE-MARTINS. 167 the same neat precaution is made use of; particularly among dogs and cats, where the dams lick away what proceeds from their young. But, in birds, there seems to be a particular provision, that the dung of nestlings is enveloped in a tough kind of jelly, and, therefore, is the easier conveyed off, with- out soiling or daubing.* Yet, as Nature is cleanly in all her ways, the young perform this office for themselves in a little time, by thrusting their tails out at the aperture of their nest. As the young of small birds presently arrive at their mrcxia, or full growth, they soon become impatient of con- finement, and sit all day with their heads out at the orifice, where the dams, by clinging to the nest, supply them with food from morning to night. For a time, the young are fed on the wing by their parents: but the feat is done by so quick and almost imperceptible a sleight, that a person must have attended very exactly to their motions, before he would be able to perceive it. As soon as the young are able to shift for themselves, the dams immediately turn their thoughts to the business of a second brood; while the first flight, shaken off and rejected by their nurses, congregate in great flocks, and are the birds that are seen clustering and hovering, on sunny mornings and evenings, round towers and steeples, and on the roofs of churches and houses. These congregations usually begin to take place about the first week in August; and, therefore, we may conclude that, by that time, the first flight is pretty well over. The young of this species do not quit their abodes altogether ; but the more forward birds get abroad some days before the rest. These, approaching the eaves of buildings, and playing about before them, make people think that several old ones attend one nest.t They are often capricious in fixing on a nesting- * The dung is enclosed in a thin membrane and this enables the parent birds to convey it away more easily in their mouths. This is done both for cleanliness and protection, for if the exuvie of the young tirds accumu.ated around the nest, it would be more readily discovered. I have watched a black- bird when in removing the excrement, the membrane has turst in his mouth, and have seen him shake his head, and show evident symptoms of annoyance. It is generally suffered to drop during the flight of the parent bird from the nest.—Ep. + I have seen the whole roof of the tennis court at Han pton Court covered in the autumn with young martins. After playing about for some days, they congregate on the aits of the river Thames.-+Eb. 168 HOVSE-MARTINS, place, beginning many edifices, and leaving them unfinished, but, when once a nest is completed in a sheltered place, 1% serves for several seasons. Those which breed in a ready- finished house get the start, in hatching, of those that build new, by ten days or a fortnight. These industrious artificers are at their labours in the long days before four in the morn- ing: when they fix their materials, they plaster them on with their chins, moving their heads with a quick vibratory motion. They dip and wash as they fly sometimes, in very hot weather, but not so frequently as swallows. It has been observed, that martins usually build to a north-east or north-west aspect, that the heat of the sun may not crack and destroy their nests; but instances are also remembered where they bred for many years in vast abundance in an hot stifled inn-yard, against a wall facing to the south. Birds in general are wise in their choice of situation; but, in this neighbourhood, every summer, is seen a strong proot to the contrary, at an house without eaves, in an exposed district, where some martins build, year by year, in the corners of the windows. But, as the corners of these win- dows (which face to the south-east and south-west) are too shallow, the nests are washed down every hard rain; and yet these birds drudge on to no purpose, from summer to sum- mer, without changing their aspect or house. It is a piteous sight to see them labouring when half their nest is washed away, and bringing dirt “ generis lapsi sarcire ruinas.” Thus is instinct a most wonderfully unequal faculty; in some instances so much above reason; in other respects, so far below it! Martins love to frequent towns, especially if there are great lakes and rivers at hand; nay, they even affect the close air of London. And I have not only seen them nesting in the Borough, but even in the Strand and Fleet- street;* but, then, it was obvious, from the dinginess of their aspect, that their feathers partook of the filth of that sooty * When the Hudson’s Bay Company formed a new settlement in North America, they found the nests of swallows on the faces of the rocky cliffs, near Fort Chepewyan, Soon afterwards the birds built their nests under the caves of the dwelling-house, which were about six feet above a balcony that extends the whole length of the building, and is a frequent promenade. They had thus to graze the heads of the passengers on entering their nests, and yet they preferred the dwelling-house to more lofty places—Da. Ricnarpson. HOUSE-MARTINS. 169 atmosphere. Martins are, by far, the least agile of the four species; their wings and tails are short, and, therefore, they are not capable of such surprising turns, and quick and g.ancing evolutions, as the swallow. Accordingly, they make ase of a placid, easy motion, in a middle region of the air, seldom mounting to any great height, and never sweeping along together over the surface of the ground or water. They do not wander far for food, but affect sheltered districts, over some lake, or under some hanging wood, or in some hollow vale, especially in windy weather. They breed the latest of all the swallow kind: in 1772, they had nestlings on to October the twenty-first, and are never without unfledged young as late as Michaelmas. As the summer declines, the congregating flocks increase in numbers daily by the constant accession of the second broods: till at last they swarm in myriads upon myriads round the villages on the Thames, darkening the face of the sky as they frequent the aits of that river, where they roost. They retire, the bulk of them I mean, in vast flocks together, about the beginning of October; but have appeared, of late years, in a considerable flight, in this neighbourhood, for one day or two, as late as November the third and sixth, after they were supposed to have been gone for more than a fort- night.* They, therefore, withdraw with us the latest of any * The following remarks on birds of passage were sent me by an intelligent naval officer and naturalist :— “ Birds do not always migrate at night, nor in fine weather and fair winds only: on the 25th of September, 1848, beating up channel, wind north-east fresh, weather raw, hazy and unpleasant, hundreds of small birds crossed, making direct for the coast of France; they were not in flocks, but singly or in small parties; the distance was about 100 miles to the nearest land. The weather looked very threatening but did not become any worse, very few took notice of the vessel, but continued the direct course and would probably reach land in four or five hours; the species were several, but 1 could only recognise two, a greeu sylvia and the stonechat ; the latter flew as on shore, with its usual weak jerking flight, only a few feet above the water. A week before, when about 400 miles from land, one of the latter came on board, remained a short time, then departed and returned in the evening, was again seen next morning, left again (there were at this time several vessels in sight, so that the poor little fellow no doubt visited them all), in the evening returned and flew completely exhausted into the open porthole of one of the cabins, and lay almost dead on the bed ; a little water revived him, and the next day I fed him with about fifty flies, spiders, &c., with plenty of meat, which he took eagerly, but my 170 HOUSE-MARTINS, species. Unless these birds are very short-lived, indeed, or unless they do not return to the district where they are bred, they must undergo vast devastation somehow and somewhere; for the birds that return yearly bear no manner of proportion to the birds that retire. House-martins are distinguished from their congeners by having their legs covered with soft downy feathers down to their toes. They are no songsters, but twitter, in a pretty, inward, soft manner, in their nests. During the time of breeding, they are often greatly molested with fleas. LETTER LVI. TO THE SAME. Rinemer, near Lewes, Dec. 9, 1773. Dear Str,—I received your last favour just as I was setting out for this place; and am pleased to find that my monography met with your approbation. My remarks are the result of many years’ observation ; and are, I trust, true on the whole ; though I do not pretend to say that they are perfectly void of mistake, or that a more nice observer might not make many additions, since subjects of this kind are inexhaustible. poor little emigrant was dead the next morning: poor little fellow, the long continued easterly winds had driven him completely out of his reckoning, and from the appearance of his emaciated body when I skinned him, he had probably been seven or eight days without food. We are apt to imagine that because some birds fly to Africa, they must be tired before they get there, but I do not see any occasion for any of our birds to goa greater distance than across the channel, and then they may go southward by easy stages: the greatest distance that I am aware of that a (land) bird of passage has to fly, is from Australia to New Zealand, more than 1000 miles without one resting place. yet this is accomplished by two beautiful species of cuckoo, one of those is not larger than a wagtail, yet even this long flight may be made in little more than one day. The natives say these birds come from Hawaihi; if it is a fact that they are found there, it will prove not only the great range of flight, but confirm the account of the natives having originally come from thence, and like- wise tend to show how correct they are in their observations of nature, and how well they remember all their ancient traditions."—H. C, i oe ‘in Tue House MARTIN. SUSSEX DOWNS. 17] If you think my letter worthy the notice of your respect- able Society, you are at liberty to lay it before them; and they will consider it, I hope, as it was intended, as a humble attempt to promote a more minute inquiry into natural history,—into the life and conversation of animals. Perhaps, hereafter, 1 may be induced to take the house-swallow under consideration; and from that proceed to the rest of the British hirundines. Though I have now travelled the Sussex Downs upwards of thirty years, yet I still investigate that chain of majestic mountains with fresh admiration year by year; and I think I see new beauties every time I traverse it. The range, which runs from Chichester eastward as far as East Bourn, is about sixty miles in length, and is called the South Downs, properly speaking, only round Lewes. As you pass along, you command a noble view of the wold, or weald, on one hand, and the broad downs and sea, on the other. Mr. Ray used to visit a family* just at the foot of these hills, and was so ravished with the prospect from Plympton-plain, near Lewes, that he mentions those capes in his Wisdom of God in the Works of Creation, with the utmost satisfaction, and thinks them equal to anything he had seen in the finest parts of Europe. For my own part, I think there is somewhat peculiarly sweet and amusing in the shapely figured aspect of chalk hills, in preference to those of stone, which are rugged, broken, abrupt, and shapeless. Perhaps I may be singular in my opinion, and not so happy as to convey to you the same idea, but I never con- template these mountains without thinking I perceive some- what analogous to growth in their gentle swellings and smooth fungus-like protuberances, their fluted sides, and regular hollows and slopes, that carry at once the air of vege- tative dilatation and expansion; or, was there ever a time when these immense masses of calcareous matter were thrown into fermentation by some adventitious moisture,— were raised and leavened into such shapes by some plastic power, and so made to swell and heave their broad backs inta the sky, se much above the less animated clay of the wild below ? * Mr. Courthope, of Danny. — 172 SHEEP OF SUSSEX DOWNS, By what I can guess from the admeasurements of the hills that have been taken round my house, I should suppose that these hills surmount the wild, at an average, at about the rate of five hundred feet. One thing is very remarkable as to the sheep: from the westward, till you get to the river Adur, all the flocks have horns, and smooth white faces, and white legs; and a horn- less sheep is rarely to be seen. But as soon as you pass that river eastward, and mount Beeding-hill, all the flocks at once become hornless, or, as they call them, poll-sheep ; and have, moreover, black faces, with a white tuft of wool on their foreheads, and speckled and spotted legs: so that you would think that the flocks of Laban were pasturing on one side of the stream, and the variegated breed of his son-in-law, Jacob, were cantoned on the other. And this diversity holds good respectively on each side, from the valley of Bramber and Beeding to the eastward, ‘and westward all the whole length of the downs. If you talk with the shepherds on this subject, they tell you that the case has been so from time im- memorial; and smile at your simplicity if you ask them, whether the situation of ‘these two different breeds might not be reversed ? (However, an intelligent friend of mine near Chichester is determmed to try the experiment; and has, this autumn, at the hazard of being laughed at, imtro- duced a parcel of black-faced hornless rams among his horned western ewes.) The black-faced poll-sheep have the shortest legs and the finest wool.* As I had hardly ever before travelled these downs at so late a season of the year, I was determined to keep as sharp a look-out as possible so near the southern coast, with respect to the summer short-winged birds of passage. We make great inquiries concerning the withdrawing of the swallow kind, without examining enough into the causes why this tribe is never to be seen in winter; for, entre nous, the disappearing of the latter is more marvellous than that of the former, and much more unaccountable. The hirundines, if they please, are certainly capable of migration; and yet, no doubt, are often found in a torpid state; but redstarts, * If Mr. White was now alive he wovld be led to think very differently ' so great has been the improvement of late years in our breed of sheep. —-Eb. RING-OUSELS.—TORTOISE. 17S nightingales, white-throats, black-caps, &c., &e., are very ili srovided for long flights ; have never been once found, as I ever heard of, in a torpid state; and yet can never be sup- posed, in such troops, from year to year, to dodge and elude the eyes of the curious and inquisitive, which, from day to day, discern the other small birds that are known to abide our winters. But, notwithstanding all my care, I saw nothing like a summer bird of passage; and, what is more strange, not one wheatear, though they abound so in the autumn as to be a considerable perquisite to the shepherds that take them ; and though many are seen to my knowledge all the winter through, in many parts of the south of Eng- land. The most intelligent shepherd tells me, that some few of these birds appear on the downs in March, and then withdraw to breed, probably, in warrens and stone quarries: now and then a nest is ploughed up in a fallow on the downs, under a furrow ; but it is thought a rarity. At the time of wheat-harvest, they begin to be taken in great numbers; are sent for sale in vast quantities to Brighthelmstone and Tun- bridge, and appear at the tables of all the gentry that enter- tain with any degree of elegance. About Michaelmas they retire, and are seen no more till March. Though these birds are, When in season, in great plenty on the South Downs round Lewes, yet at East Bourn, which is the eastern ex- tremity of those downs, they abound much more. One thing is very remarkable, that, though in the height of the season so many hundreds of dozens are taken, yet they are never seen to flock ; and it is a rare thing to see more than three or four at a time: so that there must be a perpetual flitting and constant progressive succession. It does not appear that any wheatears are taken to the westward of Houghton-bridge, which stands on the river Arun. I did not fail to look particularly after my new migration of ring-ousels ; and to take notice whether they continued on the downs to this season of the year; as I had formerly re- marked them in the month of October, all the way from Chichester to Lewes, wherever there were any shrubs and covert ; but not one bird of this sort came within my obsery- ation. J only saw a few larks and whinchats, some rooks, and several kites and buzzards. About midsummer, a flight of :ross’vills comes to the 174 SWALLOWS. pine-groves about this house, but never make any long stay. The old tortoise, that I have mentioned in a former letter, still continues in this garden; and retired under ground about the 20th of November, and came out again for one day on the 30th: it lies now buried in a wet swampy border under a wall facing to the south, and is enveloped at present in mud and mire! Here is a large rookery round this house, the inhabitants of which seem to get their livelihood very easily; for they spend the greatest part of the day on their nest-trees wher the weather is mild. These rooks retire every evening, all the winter, from this rookery, where they only call by the way, as they are going to roost in deep woods; at the dawn of day they always revisit their nest-trees, and are pre- ceded a few minutes by a flight of daws that act as it were as their harbingers. LETTER LVILI. TO THE SAME. . SELBORNE, Jan. 2, 1769. Dear Srr,—The house-swallow, or chimney-swallow, is, un- doubtedly, the first comer of all the British herwndines ; and appears in general on or about the 13th of April, as I have remarked from many years’ observation. Not but now and then a strageler is seen much earlier; and, in particular, when I was a boy, I observed a swallow for a whole day toge- ther on a sunny warm Shrove-Tuesday ; which day could not fall out later than the middle of March, and often happened early in February. It is worth remarking, that these birds are seen first about lakes and mill-ponds; and it is also very particular, that, if these early visitors happen to find frost and snow, as was the * A pretty large flock of crossbills visited Ambleside, in Westmoreland, im October, 1828, frequenting the plantations of young larches——W. J. SWALLOWS. 175 ease of the two dreadful springs of 1770 and. 1771, they immediately withdraw for a time; a circumstance this, mach more in favour of hiding than migration; since it is much more probable that a bird should retire to its hybernaculum just at hand, than return for a week or two only to warmer titudes. The swallow, though called the chimney-swallow, by no means builds altogether in chimneys, but often within barns and out-houses, against the rafters; and so she did in Virgil’s time,— —_______————__ “ Ante Garrula quam tignis nidos suspendat hirundo.” “ Before the noisy swallow’s nest depends, From the strong beam that through the roof extends.” In Sweden, she builds in barns, and is called ladu swala (the barn-swallow.) Besides, in the warmer parts of Europe, there are no chimneys to houses, except they are English- built. In these countries she constructs her nest in porches, and gateways, and galleries, and open halls.* Here and there a bird may affect some odd, peculiar place ; as we have known a swallow build down the shaft of an old well, through which chalk had been formerly drawn up, for the purpose of manure; but, in general, with us this hirwndo breeds in chimneys, and loves to haunt those stacks where there is a constant fire—no doubt for the sake of warmth. Not that it can subsist in the immediate shaft where there 1s a fire; but prefers one adjoining to that of the kitchen, and disregards the perpetual smoke of that funnel, as I have often observed with some degree of wonder. Five or six, or more feet down the chimney, does this little bird begin to form her nest, about the middle of May, which consists, like that of the house-martin, of a crust or shell composed of dirt or mud, mixed with short pieces of straw, to render it tough and permanent; with this difference, that whereas the shell of the martin is nearly hemispheric, that of the swallow is open at the top, and like half a deep dish: * JT have known a swallow make its nest on the knocker of the hall-door at Pipe Hall, in Warwickshire; and in a low archway through which the water was conducted from a mill-wheel near Dover.—Eb. 176 SWALLOWS. this nest is lined with fine grasses and feathers, which are often collected as they float in the air. Wonderful is the address which this adroit bird shows all day long, in ascending and descending with security through so narrow a pass. When hovering over the mouth of the funnel, the vibrations of her wings acting on the confined air, occasion a rumbling like thunder. It is not improbable that the dam submits to this inconvenient situation so low in the shaft in order to secure her broods from rapacious birds, and particularly from owls, which frequently fail down chimneys, perhaps in attempting to get at these nestlings. The swallow lays from four to six white eggs, dotted with red specks; and brings out her first brood about the last week in June, or the first week in July. The progressive method by which the young are introduced into life, is very amusing: first, they emerge from the shaft with difficulty enough, and often fall down into the rooms below: for a day or so, they are fed on the chimney-top, and then arc von- ducted to the dead leafless bough of some tree, where, siittig in a row, they are attended with great assiduity, and may then be called perchers. In a day or two more, they become fliers, but are still unable to take their own food ; therefore, they play about near the place where the dams are haw king for flies ; and when a mouthful is collected, at a certain sional given, the dam and the nestling advance, rismg towards each other, and meeting at an angle, the young one all the while uttering such a little quick note of eratitude and complacency, that a person must have paid very little regard to the wonders of Nature that has not often remarked this feat. The dam betakes herself immediately to the business of a second brood as soon as she is disengaged from her first, which at once associates with the first broods of house- martins, and with them congregates, clustermg on sunny roofs, towers, and trees. This hirwndo brings out her second brood towards the middle and end of August.* * The number of insects taken on the wing by swallows, especially when they have young to feed, must be enormous, and their utility i is great in propors tion. Let me give an instance of it. In a village in Gloucestershire where there were several hop- -gardens, some young farmers amused themselves for two or three summers in practising with their guns on the swallows, and either killed or drove them away. The consequence was that the hop-binds were infested SWALLOWS 177 All the summer long is the swallow a most instructive pattern of unwearied industry and affection ; for, from morn- ing to night, while there is a family to be supported, she spends the whole day in skimming close to the grounc, and exerting the most sudden turns and quick evolutions. Avenues, and long walks, under hedges, and pasture-fields, and mown meadows where cattle graze, are her delight, espe- cially if there are trees interspersed, because in such spots insects most abound. When a fly is taken, a smart snap from her bill is heard, resembling the noise at the shutting of a watch-case; but the motion of the mandibles is too quick for the eye. The swallow, probably the male bird, is the excubitor to house-martins and other little birds, announcing the approach of birds of prey ; for as soon as an hawk appears, with a shrill alarming note he calls all the swallows and martins about him, who pursue in a body, and buffet and strike their enemy till they have driven him from the village, darting down from above on his back, and rising in a perpendicular line in per- fect security. This bird also will sound the alarm and strike at cats when they climb on the roofs of houses, or otherwise approach the nests. Hach species of hirwndo drinks as it flies along, sipping the surface of the water ; but the swallow alone, in general, washes on the wing, by dropping into a pool for many times together. In very hot weather, house-martins and bank-martins dip and wash a little. The swallow is a delicate songster, and, in soft sunny weather, sings both perching and flying; on trees in a kind of concert, and on chimney-tops; is also a bold flier, ranging to distant downs and commons even in windy weather, which the other species seem much to dislike; nay, even frequenting by insects and much injured. This, however, was not the case in an adjoining village, in which a friend of mine, a benevolent clergyman, resided, and who persuaded his parishioners to protect the swallow. I have often thought that if the extensive hop-growers in Kent and other countries were to erect a sort of cheap tower, with projecting eaves, in their hop-grounds, and thatch them over, swallows would build under them, ani thus colonies of these birds would be formed, which would clear the hops of numerons noxious insects. The suggestion is, I am persuaded, worthy of attention. The birds would then be able to fulfil the purpose for which a kind Providence had sent them. Our brethren of the United States harbour and protect the swallows ts mi.ch as possible about their dwellings—Epb. B® 178 SWALLOWS. exposed sea-port towns, and making little excursions ove# the salt water. Horsemen on wide downs are often closely attended by a little party of swallows for miles together, which play before and behind them, sweepmg around, and collecting all the skulking insects that are roused by the trampling of the horses’ feet. When the wind blows hard, without this expedient, they are often forced to settle to pick up their lurking prey. This species feeds much on little coleoptera, as well as on gnats and flies, and often settles on dug ground, or paths, for gravels to grind and digest its food. Before they depart, for some weeks, to a bird they forsake houses and chimneys, and roost in trees, and usually withdraw about the begining of October, though some few stragglers may appear on at times till the first week in November. Some few pairs haunt the new and open streets of London next the fields, but do not enter, like the house-martin, the close and crowded parts of the city. Both male and female are distinguished from their conge- ners by the length and forkedness of their tails. They are undoubtedly the most nimble of all the species; and when the male pursues the female in amorous chase, they then go beyond their usual speed, and exert a rapidity almost too quick for the eye to follow. After this circumstantial detail of the life and discern- ing oropy) of the swallow, I shall add, for your further amusement, an anecdote or two, not much in favour of her sagacity.* * The accompanying very interesting communication made to me will afford some contradiction to this remark :— “ June, 1848. As I know you are interested in the fate of all living beings, I hesitate not to relate the following circumstances. A pair of swallows many years ago built their nest in our carriage-house, and brought up two broods of young ones; for their accommodation our man John, who is a most kind- hearted fellow, put up a perch, for which they seemed grateful. Since that time they have come with unerring instinct year after year to the same spot ; John always announcing their arrival with great glee, and I believe considers them as a sort of guardian spirits of the building. This year another pair built their house in the hay-loft, some distance from, and not in sight of the origina, settlers; however they spied out the perch, and with true democratic insolence took possession of it. The old family disdained to mix with the parvenues, and the result was frequent battles and noisy Gmeutes. Whether these affairs ee SWALLOWS. 1798 A certain swallow built, for two years together, on the handles of a pair of garden-shears, that were stuck up against the boards in an out-house, and therefore must have her nest brought on the following catastrophe, I know not. John going as usual to lock the carriage-house door a few evenings since—for, strange to say, the birds are locked in every night—found, to his great horror, the nest on the floor broken to atoms, and, scattered about, five young birds partially fledged. The parent birds were fixed on the perch and, seemed incapable of motion through grief. John immediately got a small round basket, placed in it a nest that had been recently deserted by a family of starlings, then put in the young birds, and next proceeded to fix the basket on the perch near the place occupied by the destroyed nest. « The old birds watched the proceedings with great gravity, and as soon as John had removed his ladder, they went on the edge of the basket, looked in and appeared to be well satisfied with the arrangement, and have continued since to the delight of us all to tend and feed their young, as if they were still dwelling in their mud-built cottage. The present family will soon take flight, and I am anxious to know what the proceedings will be in regard to the second brood. September, 1848. The swallows have not produced a second family, although after the flight of the first they made the nest in the basket complete, and which they still continue to occupy. I intend to let the basket remain, and I will, if permitted, report proceedings to you next year. “July, 1849. I must give you the sequel of the history of my mysterious friends the swallows, whose adventures last year I related to you. The pair arrived on the 28th of April, which my kind man John announced to me, and further that they had examined the basket-nest, the asylum of their young ones of last season. We now watched their proceedings with much interest, but for some time could not arrive at their intended plans; one point, however, was certain, there was no attempt made to erect the usual mud tenement. The ques- tion was at length set at rest, the basket-nest was adopted, some slight repairs made, and the lady took possession of it, her lord gravely perching by the side of the basket. After a certain time we could not resist taking a peep into the basket during the absence of the matron, and were gratified at seeing four eggs in the nest; since, all has gone on well, the young family have arrived at days of discretion (I hope), at least they have all been introduced into the grand air by their parents, and taught the rudiments of their future pursuits. But their final departure from thcir basket-home has not yet taken place, for this morning I saw the four perched on its edge attended by their mamma. “ November, 1849. I think I told you that the swallows took possession of the basket-house: the result was two full families of young ones, both arrived, I presume, at days of discretion, at least they all eraulated and I think equalled the parent birds in the pursuit of their varied prey at an early period of the season. Indeed they all took their departure about the middle of September. The following is most interesting and I am not aware that it has been before noticed. The basket-nest was fixed on the end of a piece of wood ; the other portion of which, about two feet and a half in length, n2 180 SWALLOWS. spoiled wkenever that implement was wanted. And, what is stranger still, another bird of the same species built its nest on the wings and body of an owl, that happened by accident to hang dead and dry from the rafter of a barn. This owl, with the nest on its wings, and with eggs in the nest, was brought as a curiosity worthy the most elegant private museum in Great Britain. The owner, struck with the oddity of the sight, furnished the bringer with a large shell, or conch, desiring him to fix it just where the owl hung. The person did as he was ordered; and the following year, a pair, probably the same pair, built their nest in the conch, and laid their eggs. The owl and the conch make a strange, grotesque appear- ance, and are not the least curious specimevs in that wonder- ful coliection of art and nature.* Thus is instinct in animals, taken the least out of its way, an undistinguishing, limited faculty, and blind to every circumstance that does not immediately respect self-pre- servation, or lead at once to the propagation or support of their species. LETTER LVIII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Feb. 14, 1774. Dear Sr1r,—I received your favour of the eighth, and am pleased to find that you read my little history of the swallow served the old-and young birds asa perch. After the first brood of four took strong flight, no more was seen of them in the carriage-house till the evening preceding the above-mentioned final departure, when my man hearing a great chattering amongst his favourites, and fearing a cat had got among them, hurried to the rescue, when, to his astonishment, he beheld the two old birds, and all their annual progeny (eleven) perched in a line, evidently receiving instructions relative to their mysterious journey: be that as it may, on the following morning all were gone !” The above remarks also prove that swallows return to the same locality. —Eb. * Sir Ashton Lever’s Museum SWALLOWS. 181 with your usual candour; nor was I the less pleased to find that you made objections where you saw reason. As to the quotations, it is difficult to say precisely which species of hirwndo Virgil might intend, in the lines in ques- tion, since the ancients did not attend to specific differences, hike modern naturalists; yet somewhat may be gathered, enough to incline me to. suppose, that, in the two passages quoted, the poet had his eye on the swallow. In the first place, the epithet garrula* suits the swallow well, who is a great songster, and not the martin, which is rather a mute bird, and when it sings, is so inward as scarce to be heard. Besides, if t¢gnwm in that place signifies a rafter, rather than a beam, as it seems to me to do, then I think it must be the swallow that is alluded to, and not the martin, since the former does frequently build within the roof, against the rafters, while the latter always, as far as I have been able to observe, builds without the roof, against eaves and cornices. As to the simile, too much stress must not be laid on it; yet the epithet gra speaks plainly im favour of the swallow, whose back and wings are very black ; while the rump of the martin is milk-white, its back and wings blue, and all its under part white as snow. Nor can the clumsy motions (comparatively clumsy) of the martin well represent the sudden and artful evolutions, and quick turns, which Juturna gave to her brother’s chariot, so as to elude the eager pur- suit of the enraged Aineas. The verb sonat also seems to imply a bird that is somewhat loquacious. * So-Anacreon— “ Silly swallow! prating thing.””—Eb. + “ Nigra velut magnas domini cum divitis edes Pervolat, et pennis alta atria lustrat hirundo, Pabula parva legens, nidisque loquacibus escas : Et nunc porticibus vacuis, nunc humida circum Stagna sonat.” 4 As the dark swallow in a splendid hall, With gloomy pinions flits along each yall, Of scatter'd crumbs and humble food in quest To still the clamour of the craving nest ; Now through the porch her agile figure bounda, Now by the lake her noisy note resounds.” 182 SAND-MARTINS. We have had a very wet autumn and winter, so as to raise the springs to a pitch beyond anything since 1764, which was a remarkable year for floods and high waters.’ The land-springs, which we call levants, break out much on the downs of Sussex, Hampshire, and Wiltshire. The country people say, when the levants rise, corn will always be dear ; meaning, that when the earth is so glutted with water as to send forth springs on the downs and «uplands, that the corn vales must be drowned: and so it has proved for these ten or eleven years past: for land-springs have never obtained more since the memory of man than during that period, nor has there been known a greater scarcity of all sorts of grain, considering the great improvements of modern husbandry. Such a run of wet seasons, a century or two ago, would, L am persuaded, have occasioned a famine. Therefore, pam- phlets and newspaper letters that talk of combinations, tend to inflame and mislead, simce we must not expect plenty till Providence sends us more favourable seasons. The wheat of last year, all round this district, and in the county of Rutland, and elsewhere, yields remarkably bad; and our wheat on the ground, by the continual late sudden vicissitudes from fierce frost to pouring rains, looks poorly, and the turnips rot very fast. LETTER LIX. TO THE SAME. , SeLBornE, February 26, 1774. Dear Srr,—The sand-martin, or bank-martin, is by much the least of any of the British hirundies, and, as far as we have ever seen, the smallest known hirwndo ; though Brisson asserts that there is one much smaller, and that is the hirwndo esculenta. But it is much to be regretted that it is scarce possible for any observer to be so full and exact as he could wish in reciting the circumstances attending the life and conversa- SAND-MARTINS., 183 tion of this little bird, since it is fera naturd, at least in this part of the kingdom, disclaiming all domestic attachments, and haunting wild heaths and commons where there are large lakes ; while the other species, especially the swallow and house-martin, are remarkably gentle and domesticated, and never seem to think themselves safe but under the protection of man. Here are in this parish, in the sand-pits and banks of the lake of Wolmer Forest, several colonies of these birds; and yet they are never seen in the village, nor do they at all frequent the cottages that are scattered about in that wild district. The only instance I ever remember where this species haunts any building, is at the town of Bishop’s Waltham, in this county, where many sand-martins nestle and breed in the scaffold holes of the back wall of William of Wykeham’s stables; but then this wall stands in a very sequestered and retired enclosure, and faces upon a large and beautiful lake. And, indeed, this species seems so to delight in large waters, that no imstance occurs of their abounding but near vast poois or rivers ; and, in particular, it has been remarked that they swarm in the banks of the Thames, in some places below London Bridge. Jt is curious to observe with what different degrees of architectonic skill Providence has endowed birds of the same genus, and so nearly correspondent in their general mode of life; for, while the swallow and the house-martin discover the greatest address in raising and securely fixing crusts or shells of loam, as cunabula for their young, the bank-martin terebrates a round and regular hole in the sand or earth, which is serpentine, horizontal, and about two feet deep. At the inner end of this burrow does this bird deposit, in a good degree of safety, her rude nest, consisting of fine grasses and feathers, usually goose feathers, very inartificially laid together.* Perseverance will accomplish anything: though at first * M. Eugéne Robert communicated to the Academy of Sciences at Paris a curious observation that he had made in the case of some nests of the sand- martin, which he had an opportunity of examining. He noticed that they were lined or plastered over with a sort of matter, which he believed to be the spawn of fish, and which helped to prevent the sand from falling down inte the nest.—W. Jenyns. 184 SAND-MARTINS, one would be disinclined to believe that tais weak bird, with her soft and tender bill and claws, should ever be able tv bore the stubborn sand-bank, without entirely disabling her- self; yet with these feeble instruments have I seen a pair of them make great dispatch, and could remark how much they had scooped that day, by the fresh sand which ran down the bank, and was of a different colour from that which lay loose and bleached in the sun. In what space of time these little artists are able to mine and finish these cavities I have never been able to discover, for reasons given above; but it would be a matter worthy of observation, where it falls in the way of any naturalist, to make his remarks. This I have often taken notice of, that several holes of different depths are left unfinished at the end of summer. To imagine that these beginnings were intentionally made, in order to be in the greater forwardness for next spring, is allowing, perhaps, too much foresight and skill to a simple bird. May not the cause of these latebre being left unfinished arise from their meeting in those places with strata too harsh, hard, and solid for their purpose, which they relinquish, and go to afresh spot that works more freely ? or may they not in other places fall in with a soil as much too loose and mouldering, liable to founder, and threatening to overwhelm them and their labours ? One thing is remarkable, that, after some years, the old holes are forsaken, and new ones bored ; perhaps because the old habitations grow foul and fetid from long use, or because they may so abound with fleas as to become untenantable. This species of swallow, moreover, is strangely annoyed with fleas; and we have seen fleas, bed-fleas, (pwlex writans,) swarming at the mouths of these holes, like bees on the stools of their hives. The following circumstance should by no means be onutted,—that these birds do not make use of their caverns by way of hybernacula, as might be expected; since banks sv perforated have been dug out with care in the winter, when nothing was found but empty nests. The sand-martin arrives much about the same time with the swallow, and lays, as she does, from four to six white ‘ges. But, as this species is eryptogame, carrying on the business of nidification, incubation, and the support of its SAND-MARTINS. 185 young in the dark, it would not be so easy to ascertain the time of breeding, were it not for the coming forth of the broods, which appear much about the time, or rather some- what earlier, than those of the swallow. The nestlings are supported in common, like those of their congeners, with enats and other small insects, and sometimes they are fed with libellule (dragon-flies) almost as long as themselves. In the last week in June we have seen a row of these sitting on a rail, near a great pool, as perchers, and so young and helpless, as easily to be taken by hand; but whether the dams ever feed them on the wing, as swallows and house- martins do, we have never yet been able to determine ; nor do we know whether they pursue and attack birds of prey. When they happen to breed near hedges and enclosures, they are dispossessed of their breeding-holes by the house- sparrow, which is, on the same account, a fell adversary to house-martins. These hirwndines are no songsters, but rather mute, making only a little harsh noise when a person approaches their nests. They seem not to be ot asociable turn, never with us congre- gating with their congeners in the autumn. Undoubtedly they breed a second time, like the house-martin and swallow ; and withdraw about Michaelmas. Though in some particular districts they may happen to abound, yet on the whole, in the south of England at least, is this much the rarest species; for there are few towns or large villages but what abound with house-martins; few churches, towers, or steeples but what are haunted by some swifts; scarce a hamlet or single cottage-chimney that has not its swallow ; while the bank-martins, scattered here and there, live a sequestered life among some abrupt sand-hills, and in the banks of some few rivers. These birds have a peculiar manner of flying, flitting about with odd jerks and vacillations, not unlike the motions of a butterfly. Doubtless the flight of all hirwndines is influenced by, and adapted to, the peculiar sort of insects which furnish their food. Hence it would be worth inquiry to examine what particular genus of insects affords the principal food of each respective species of swallow. Notwithstanding what has been advanced above, some few sand-martins, I see, haunt the skirts of London, frequenting 186 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS the dirty pools in St. George’s Fields, and about Whitechapel. The question is where these build, since there are no banks or bold shores in that neighbourhood ? Perhaps they nestle in the scaffold-holes of some old or new deserted building. They dip and wash as they fly sometimes, like the house- martin and swallow. Sand-martins differ from their congeners in the diminu- tiveness of their size, and in their colour, which is what is usually called a mouse-colour. Near Valencia, in Spain, they are taken, says Willughby, and sold in the markets for the table, and are called by the country people, probably from their desultory, jerking manner of flight, Papillon de Montagna. LETTER LX. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. SELBORNE, Sept. 2, 1774 Dear Sir,—Before your letter arrived, and of my owr accord, | had been remarking and comparing the tails of the male and female swallow, and this ere any young broods appeared ; so that there was no danger of confounding the dams with their pulli ; and, besides, as they were then always in pairs, and busied in the employ of nidification, there could be no room for mistaking the sexes, nor the individuals of different chimneys, the one for the other. From all my observations, it constantly appeared that each sex has the long feathers in its tail that give it that forked shape; with this difference, that they are longer in the tail of the male than in that of the female. Nightingales, when their young first come abroad, and are helpless, make a plaintive and a jarring noise; and also a snapping or cracking, pursuing people along the hedges as they walk: these last sounds seem intended for menace and — defiance. The grasshopper-lark chirps all night in the height of summer. MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 187 Swans turn white the second year, and breed the third. Weasels prey on moles, as appears by their being somes times caught in mole-traps. Sparrow-hawks sometimes breed in old crows’ nests; and the kestrel in churches and ruins. There are supposed to be two* sorts of eels in the island of Ely. The threads sometimes discovered in eels are per- haps their young: the generation of eels is very dark and mysterious. Hen-harriers breed on the ground, and seem never to settle on trees. When redstarts shake their tails, they move them hori- zontally, as dogs do when they fawn: the tail of the wagtail, when in motion, bobs up and down, like that of a jaded horse. Hedge-sparrows have a remarkable flirt with their wings in breeding time: as soon as frosty mornings come, they make a very piping, plaintive noise. Many birds which become silent about midsummer re- assume their notes again in September; as the thrush, black- bird, woodlark, willow-wren, &c.; hence August} is by much the most mute month, the spring, summer, and autumn through. Are birds induced to sing again because the temperament of autumn resembles that of spring ? Linneus ranges plants geographically ; palms inhabit the tropics ; grasses the temperate zones ; and mosses and lichens the polar circles: no doubt animals may be classed in the samme manner with propriety. House-sparrows{ build under eaves in the spring; as the weather becomes hotter, they get out for coolness, and nest in plum-trees and apple-trees. These birds have been known sometimes to build in rooks’ nests, and sometimes in the forks of boughs under rooks’ nests. * There are three species of eels. See Mr. Yarrell’s work on British fishts. Eels are infested with intestinal worms, a circumstance which has induced many to suppcese them to be viviparous, myself amongst the rest. The generation of eels is now well ascertained.— Ep. + The robin is the only bird I hear sing in August. They perhaps moult earlier than other song-birds, for in the moulting season birds are perfectly mute.— Eb. + There two species of sparrows,—the house and the tree sparrow, See - Mr. Yarrell’s British Birds.—Ep. 188 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. As my neighbour was housing a rick, he observed that his dogs devoured all the little red mice that they could catch, but rejected the common mice; and that his cats eat the common mice, refusing the red. Red-breasts sing all through the spring, summer, and autumn. ‘The reason that they are called autumn songsters is, because in the two first seasons their voices are lost and drowned in the general chorus: in the latter, their song becomes distinguishable. Many songsters of the autumn seem to be the young cock red-breast of that year: notwith- standing the prejudices in their favour, they do much mischief in gardens to the summer frutts.* The titmouse, which early in February begins to make two quaint notes, like the whetting of a saw,f is the marsh tit- mouse; the great titmouse sings with three cheerful joyous notes, and begins about the same time. Wrens sing all the winter through, frost excepted. House-martins came remarkably late this year, both in Hampshire and Devonshire: is this circumstance for or against either hiding or migration ? Most birds drink, sipping at intervals; but pigeons take a long continued draught, like quadrupeds. Notwithstanding what I have said in a former letter, no grey crows were ever known to breed on Dartmoor; it was my mistake. The appearance and flying of the scarabeus solstitialis, or fern-chafer, commence with the month of July, and cease about the end of it. These scarabs are the constant food of caprimulgt, or fern-owls, through that period. They abound on the chalky downs, and in some sandy districts, but not in the clays. In the garden of the Black Bear Inn, in the town of Read- ing, is a stream or canal, running under the stables, and out into the fields on the other side of the road: in this water are many carps, which lie rolling about in sight, being fed by travellers, who amuse themselves by tossing them bread ; but * They eat also the berries of the ivy, the honeysuckle, and the ewonymus europeus, or spindle-tree. + It is undoubtedly the great titmouse, p. major, which whets -ike a saw. I have watched it for a quarter of an hour together ; it has also cheerfus notes.— W.. J. ae / we THe Rosin, oR REDBREAST. (Rubecula familiaris.) MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 189 fs soon as the weather grows at all severe, these fishes are ne longer seen, because they retire under the stables, where they re nain till the return of spring. Do they lie in a torpid state ? if they do not, how are they supported § P The note of the white- throat, which is continually repeated, and often attended with odd gesticulations on the wing, is harsh and displeasing. These birds seem of pugnacious dis- position ; for they sing with an erected crest, and attitudes of riv alry and defiance ; are shy and wild in breeding-time, avoiding neighbourhoods, and haunting lonely lanes and commons ;* nay, even the very tops of the Sussex Downs, where there are bushes and covert; but in July and August, they bring their broods into gardens and orchards, and make great havoe among the summer fruits. The black-cap has, in common, a full, sweet, deep, loud, and wild pipe; yet that strain is of short continuance, and his motions are desultory; but, when that bird sits calmly and engages in song in earnest, he pours forth very sweet, but inward melody, and expresses great variety of soft and gentle modulations, superior, perhaps, to those of any of our warblers, the aightingale excepted. Black-caps mostly haunt orchards and gardens: while they warble, their throats are wonderfully distended. The song of the redstart is superior, though somewhat like that of the white-throat; some birds have a few more notes than others. Sitting very placidly on the top of a tall tree in a village, the cock sings from morning to night; he affects neighbourhoods, and avoids solitude, and loves to build in orchards and about houses; with us he perches on the vane of a tall maypole. The fly-catcher is, of all our summer birds, the most mute and the most familiar; it also appears the last of any. It builds in a vine, or a sweet-brier, against the wall of a house, or ia the hole of a wall, or on the end of a beam or plate, and citen close to the post of a door where people are going in and out all day long. This bird does not make the least * So far from this being the case, a white-throat built its nest in the iron- work on the top of a lamp in Portland Place, and another in the iron-work of one of the beautiful gates of Hampton Court Palace. It is an amicable and amusing bird when its habits are attended to.— Eb, 190 SWIFTS. pretension to song, but uses a little inward wailing note, when it thinks its young in danger from cats or other annoyances : it breeds but once, and retires early.* Selborne parish alone can and has exhibited at times more than half the birds that are ever seen in all Sweden: the former has produced more than one hundred and twenty species, the latter only two hundred and twenty-one.f Let me add, also, that it has shown near half the species that were ever known in Great Britain. On a retrospect, I observe that my long letter carries with it a quaint and magisterial air, and is very sententious: but when I recollect that you requested stricture and anecdote, hope you will pardon the didactic manner for the sake of the information it may happen to contain. LETTER LX. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. | SELBORNE, Sept. 28, 1774. Dear Srz,—As the swift, or black-martin, is the largest of the British hirwndines, so it is undoubtedly the latest comer: for I remember but one instance of its appearing before the last week in April; and in some of our late frosty harsh springs, it has not been seen till the beginning of May. This species usually arrives in pairs. The swift, like the sand-martin, is very defective in archi- tecture, making no crust, or shell, for its nest, but forming it of dry grasses and feathers, very rudely and inartiticially put together. With all my attention to these birds, I have never been able once to discover one in the act of collecting * The muscicapa grisola, Linn.—W. J. + Mr. Yarrell has informed us that near seventy species of birds haye been noticed in Kensington Gardens, which considering the situation, as well as the confined nature of the locality, is an unusually great number,— YaRRELL’S British Birds. { Sweden 221; Great Britain 252 species, ——— ee } ‘ 4 i | ‘ SWIFTS. 191 or carrying in materials: so that I have suspected (since their nests are exactly the same) that they sometimes usurp upon the house-sparrows, and expel them, as sparrows do the house and sand-martin—well remembering that I have seen them squabbling together at the entrance of their holes, and the sparrows up in arms, and much disconcerted at these intruders; and yet I am assured by a nice observer in such matters, that they do collect feathers for their nests in Andalusia, and that he has shot them with such materials in their mouths. Swifts, like sand-martins, carry on the business of nidifi- cation quite in the dark, in crannies of castles, and towers, and steeples, and upon the tops of the walls of churches, under the roof, and therefore cannot be so narrowly watched as those species that build more openly; but, from what I could ever observe, they begin nesting about the middle of May ; and I have remarked, from eggs taken, that they have sat hard by the 9th of June. In general, they haunt tall buildings, churches, and steeples, and breed only in such ; yet, in this village, some pairs frequent the lowest and meanest cottages, and educate their young under those thatched roofs. We remember but one instance where they breed out of buildings, and that is in the sides of a deep chalk pit near the town of Odiham, in this county, where we have seen many pairs entering the crevices, and skimming and squeaking round the precipices. As I have regarded these amusive birds with no small attention, if I should advance something new and peculiar with respect to them, and different from all other birds, I might perhaps be credited, especially as my assertion is the result of many years’ exact observation. The fact that I would advance is, that swifts tread, or copulate on the wing ; and I would wish any nice observer that is startled at this supposition to use his own eyes, and I think he will soon be convinced. In another class of animals, viz., the insect, nothing is so common as to see the different species of many genera in conjunction as they fly. The swift is almost con- tinually on the wing ; and as it never settles on the ground, on trees, or roofs, would seldom find opportunity for amorous rites, were it not enabled to indulge them in the air. [fany person would watch these birds ofa fine morning in May, as 192 SWIFTS. they are sailing round, at a great height from the ground, he would see, every now and then, one drop on the back ot another, and both of them sink down together for many fathoms with a loud piercing shriek. This I take to be the juncture when the business of generation is carrying on. As the swift eats, drinks, collects materials for its nest, and, as it seems, propagates on the wing, it appears to live more in the air than any other bird, and to perform all functions there save those of sleeping and incubation. This hirwndo differs widely from its congeners in layin invariably but two eggs at a time, which are milk-white, long, and peaked at the small end; whereas the other species lay at each brood from four to six. It is a most alert bird, rising very early, and retiring to roost very late, and is on the wing in the height of summer at least sixteen hours. In the longest days it does not withdraw to rest till a quarter before nine in the evening, being the latest of all day birds. Just before they retire, whole groups of them assemble high in the air, and squeak and shoot about with wonderful rapidity. But this bird is never so much alive as in sultry thundery weather, when it expresses great alacrity, and calls forth all its powers. In hot mornings several getting together into little parties dash round the steeples and churches, squeaking as they go in a very clamorous manner: these, by nice observers, are supposed to be males serenading their sitting hens, and not without reason, since they seldom squeak till they come close to the walls or eaves, and since those within utter at the same time a little inward note of complacency. When the hen has sat hard all day, she rushes forth just as it is almost dark, and stretches and relieves her weary limbs, and snatches a sz:anty meal for a few minutes, and then returns to her duty of incubation. Swifts, when wantonly and cruelly shot while they have young, discover a little jump of insects in their mouths, which they pouch and hold under their tongue. In general, they feed in a much higher district than the other species; a proof that gnats and other insects do also abound to a considerable height in the air: they also range tc vast distances; since locomotion is no labour to them, who are endowed with such wonderful powers of wing. Their powers seem to be in proportion to SWIFTS. ‘193 their levers and their wings are longer in proportion than those of almost any other bird. When they mute, or ease themselves in flight, they raise their wings, and make them meet over their backs. At some certain times, in the summer, I had remarked that swifts were hawking very low, for hours together, over pools and streams; and could not help inquiring into the object of their pursuit, that induced them to descend so much below their usual range. After some trouble I found that they were taking phryganee, ephemere, libellule (cadew-flies, may-flies, and dragon-flies), that were just emerged from their aurelia state. I then no longer wondered that they should be so willing to stoop for a prey that afforded them such plentiful and succulent nourishment. They bring out their young about the middle or latter end of July ; but as these never become perchers, nor, that ever I could discern, are fed on the wing by their dams, the coming forth of the young is not so notorious as in the other species. iS the 30th of last June I untiled the eaves of a house where many pairs build, and found in each nest only two squab, naked pull. On the 8th of July I repeated the same inguiry, and found they had made very little progress towards a fledged state, but were still naxed and helpless; from whence we may conclude, that birds whose way of life keeps them perpetually on the wing, would not be able to quit their nest till the end of the month. Swallows and martins that have numerous families, are continually feeding them every two or three minutes; while swifts, that have but two young to maintain, are much at their leisure, and do not attend on their nests for hours together. Sometimes they pursue and strike at hawks that come in their way, but not with that vehemence and fury that swal- lows express on the same occasion. They are out all day long on wet days, feeding about, and disregarding still rain ; from whence two things may be gathered,—first, that many insects abide high in the air, even in rain; and next, that the feathers of these birds must be well preened to resist so much wet. Windy, and particularly windy weather with heavy showers, they dislike, and on such days withdraw, and are scarcely ever seen. o 194 SWIFTS. There is a circumstatce respecting the colour of swifts which seems not to be unworthy our attention. When they arrive in the spring. they are all over of a glossy dark soot colour, except their chims, which are white; but, by being all day long in the sun and air, they become quite weather- beaten and bleached before they depart, and yet they return glossy again in the spring.* Now, if they pursue the sun into lower latitudes, as some suppose, in order to enjoy a perpetual summer, why do they not return bleached? Do they not, rather, perhaps, retire to rest for a season, and at that juncture moult and change their feathers, since all other birds are known to moult soon after the season of breeding ? Swifts are very anomalous in many particulars, dissenting from all their congeners, not only in the number of their young, but in breeding but once in a summer; whereas all the other British hirundines breed invariably twice. It is past all doubt that swifts can breed but once, since they withdraw in a short time after the flight of their young, and some time before their congeners bring out their second broods. We may here remark that, as swifts breed but once in a summer, and only two at a time, and the other hirwn- dines twice, the latter, who lay from four to six eggs, increase, at an average, five times as fast as the former. . But in nothing are swifts more singular than in their early retreat. ‘They retire, as to the main body of them, by the 10th of August, and sometimes a few days sooner; and every straggler invariably withdraws by the 20th: while their congeners, all of them, stay till the beginning of October, many of them all through that month, and some occasionally to the beginning of November. This early retreat is mysterious and wonderful, since that time is often the sweetest season in the year. But what is more extra- ordinary, they begin to retire still earlier in the more southerly parts of Andalusia, where they can be nowise influenced by any defect of heat, or, as one might suppose, defect of food. Are they regulated in their motions with us * Mr. Yarrell says that the swift departs before its moult, and when its plumage is at the worst from wear and tear. Our summer visitors generally complete their moult before they leave us, but not the Hirundinide, SWIFTS. 195 by a failure of food, or by a propensity to moulting, or by a disposition to rest, after so rapid a life, or by what? This is one of those incidents in natural history that not only baffles our researches, but almost eludes our guesses ! These Airwndines never perch on trees or roofs, and so never congregate with their congeners. They are fearless while haunting their nesting places, and are not to be scared with a gun, and are often beaten down with poles and cudgels as they stoop to go under the eaves. Swifts are much infested with those pests to the genus, called hippobosce hirundinis, and often wriggle and scratch themselves, in their flight, to get rid of that clinging annoyance. Swifts are no songsters, and have only one harsh screaming note; yet there are ears to which it is not displeasing, from an agreeable association of ideas, since that note never occurs but in the most lovely summer weather. They never settle on the ground but through accident, and when down can hardly rise, on account of the shortness of their legs and the length of their wings: neither can they walk, but only crawl; but they have a strong grasp with their feet, by which they cling to walls. Their bodies being flat, they can enter a very narrow crevice; and where they cannot pass on their bellies, they will turn up edgewise. The particular formation of the foot discriminates the swift from all the British hirwndines, and, indeed, from all other known birds, the hirwndo melba, or great white-bellied swift of Gibraltar excepted; for it is so disposed as to carry “omnes quatuor digitos anticos,”’ all its four toes forward: besides, the least toe, which should be the back toe, consists of one bone alone, and the other three only of two a-piece,— a construction most rare and particular, but nicely adapted to the purposes in which their feet are employed. This, and some peculiarities attending the nostrils and under mandible, have induced a discerning naturalist * to suppose that this species might constitute a genus per se.t In Londen, a party of swifts frequents the Tower, playing and feeding over the river just below the bridge; others haunt some of the churches of the Borough next the fields, * John Antony Scopoli, of Carniola, M.D. + The genus Cypselus of Illiger is now generally adopted for this group It is also the Apus of Belon.—W. J. 02 L9G SWIFTS. but do not venture, like the house-martin, into the close, crowded part of the town. The Swedes have bestowed a very pertinent name on this swallow, calling it ring-swala, from the perpetual rings, or circles, that it takes round the scene of its nidification. Swifts feed on coleoptera, or small beetles with hard cases over their wings, as well as on the softer insects ; but it does not appear how they can procure gravel to grind their food, as swallows do, since they never settle on the ground. Young ones, overrun with hippobosce, are sometimes found, under their nests, fallen to the ground, the number of vermin rendering their abode insupportable any longer. They fre- uent in this village several abject cottages ; yeta succession still haunts the same unlikely roofs—a good proof this that the same birds return to the same spots. As they must stoop very low to get up under these humble eaves, cats lie in wait, and sometimes catch them on the wing. On the 5th of July, 1775, I again untiled part of a roof over the nest of a swift. The dam sat in the nest; but so strongly was she affected by natural cropy) for her brood, which she supposed to be in danger, that, regardless of her own safety, she would not stir, but lay sullenly by them, per- mitting herself to be taken in hand. The squab young we brought down and placed on the grass-plot, wherethey tumbled about, and were as helpless as a new-born child. While we contemplated their naked bodies,* their unwieldy dispropor- tioned abdomina, and their heads too heavy for their necks to support, we could not but wonder when we reflected that these shiftless beings, in a littie more than a fortnight, would be able to dash through the air almost with the inconceivable swiftness of a meteor, and, perhaps, in their emigration, must traverse vast continents and oceans as distant as the equator. So soon does Nature advance small birds to their nAikia, or state of perfection; while the progressive growth of men and large quadrupeds is slow and tedious! * we hope that Mr. White restored these helpless birds to their nest, und we suppose he did so, but it is not easy to see his object in either rumoving them, or in seeing their feeble state on a grass-plot.—Eb. RETURN OF SWALLOWS. 197 LETTER LXIi. TO THE SAME. Secporneg, Segé. 1774. Dear Str,—By means of a straight cottage chimney, I had n opportunity this summer of remarking, at my leisure, how swallows ascend and descend through the shaft; but my pleasure in contemplating the address with which this feat was performed, to a considerable depth in the chimney, was somewhat interrupted by apprehensions lest my eyes might undergo the same fate with those of Tobit.* Perhaps it may be some amusement to you to hear at what times the different species of hirwndines arrived this spring in three very distant counties of this kingdom. With us, the swallow was seen first on April the 4th; the swift on April the 24th; the bank-martin on April the 12th; and the house-martin not till April the 30th. At South Zele, Devonshire, swallows did not arrive till April the 25th; swifts, in plenty, on May the 1st; and house-martins not till the middle of May. At Blackburn, in Lancashire, swifts were seen April the 28th; swallows, April the 29th; house-martins, May the 1st. Do these different dates, in such distant districts, prove anything for or against migra- tion ? A farmer near Weyhill fallows his land with two teams of asses, one of which works till noon, and the other in the » afternoon. When these animals have done their work, they ‘are penned all night, like sheep, on the fallow. In the winter, they are confined and foddered in the yard, and make plenty of dung. Linneus says, that hawks “ paciscuntur inducias cum avibus, quamdiu cuculus cuculat ;’” but it appears to me that, during that period, many little birds are taken and destroyed by birds of prey, as may be seen by their feathers left in lanes and under hedges. * Tobit, ii. 10. 198 MISSEL-THRUSH. The missel-thrush is, while breeding, fierce and pugnacious, driving such birds as approach its nest, with great fury, to a distance. The Welsh call it pen y llwyn, the head or master of the coppice. He suffers no magpie, jay, or blackbird to enter the garden where he haunts, and is, for the time, a good guard to the new-sown legumens. In general, he is very successful in the defence of his family; but once I ob- served in my garden that several magpies came determined to storm the nest of a missel-thrush. The dams defended their mansion with great vigour, and fought resolutely ; but numbers at last prevailed: they tore the nest to pieces, and swallowed the young alive.* In the season of nidification, the wildest birds are com- paratively tame. Thus the ring-dove breeds in my fields, © though they are continually frequented; and the missel- thrush, though most shy and wild in the autum and winter, builds in my garden close to a walk where people are passing all day long. Wall-fruits abound with me this year; but my grapes, that used to be forward and good, are at present backward beyond all precedent. And this is not the worst of the story ; for the same ungenial weather, the same black, cold solstice, has injured the more necessary fruits of the earth, and disco- loured and blighted our wheat. The crop of hops promises to be very large. Frequent returns of deafness incommode me sadly, and half disqualify me for a naturalist; for, when those fits are upon me, I lose all the pleasing notices and little intimations | * When magpies have young, they will constantly attack the nests of other birds, and frequently the old birds, for food. Indeed there are few things on . which these voracious birds will not feed. The following is extracted from a communication made by Mr. Wasey:—‘ As I was travelling yesterday between Andover and the railway station I noticed on. the road a magpie struggling with some animal; on the approach of the coach it took flight, bearing away its prize to about sixty yards across a field, when it dropped it, and on my brother getting off to see what it was, he found it to be a full- grown red-wing. The magpie had pecked its eyes out to prevent its escape, and would soon have killed it, had we not so unceremoniously deprived him of his dinner. I believe it is*not generally known that magpies ever prey upon living birds, especially a bird of such magnitude and weight as a fieldfare. — No doubt it was hardly pressed by hunger and the inclemency of the season 5 but it is a fact worthy the attention of ornithologists, and if you think fit te take notiee of the circumstance I will vouch for its truth.” Tur Misset THRUSH. GOLDEN-CROWNED WREN. 199 arising from rural sounds; and May is to me as silent and mute, with respect to the notes of birds, &c., as August. My eyesight is, thank God, quick and good; but with respect to the other sense, I am at times disabled, “And Wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.” LETTER LXIII. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. Ir is matter of curious inquiry to trace out how those species of soft-billed birds that continue with us the winter through, subsist during the dead months.* The imbecility of birds seems not to be the only reason why they shun the rigour of our winters ; for the robust wry-neck (so much resembling the hardy race of woodpeckers) migrates, while the feeble little golden-crowned wren, that shadow of a bird, braves our severest frosts, without availing himself of houses or villages, to which most of our winter birds crowd in distressful sea- sons, while he keeps aloof in fields and woods; but perhaps this may be the reason why they may often perish, and why they are almost as rare as any bird we know.t * Nature has been very provident as to the subsistence of soft-billed birds during the winter months; vast numbers of insects hide themselves in interstices of trees, walls, &c., where birds seek for and feed on them. I con- stantly see birds clinging to old walls in search of food. The golden-breasted wren harbours much in winter amongst Scotch firs, where it not only finda shelter, but food, and often roosts in warm low sheds at night.—Eb. + This species extends as far as the Orkney Isles. There is a constant migration of them, about the end of autumn, from the north of Europe, though we also have a great many that are stationary. Mr. Selby has recorded a very singular instance of migration, which occurred on the 24th and 25th October, 1822. After a severe gale, with thick fog, from the north-east, thousands of these birds were seen to arrive on the sea-shore and sand-banks of the North umbrian coast, many of them so fatigued by the length of their flight, as te be unable to rise again from the ground; and great numbers were, in conse- quence, caught or destroyed. This flight must have been immense in quantity, as its extent was traced through the whole length of the coasts of Northumber- laud and Durham.—W. J. 200 SOFT-BILLED BIRDS. I have no reason to doubt but that the soft-billed birds which winter with us, subsist chiefly on imsects in their aurelia state.* All the species of wagtails in severe weather haunt shallow streams, near their spring-heads, where they never freeze; and, by wading, pick out the aurelias of the genus of phryganee,t &e. Hedge-sparrows frequent sinks and gutters in hard wea- ther, where they pick up crumbs and other sweepings; and in mild weather they procure worms, which are stirring every month in the year, as any one may see that will only be at the trouble of taking a candle to a grass-plot on any mild winter’s night. Red-breasts and wrens, in the winter, haunt outhouses, stables, and barns, where they find spiders and flies that have laid themselves up during the cold season. But the grand support of the soft-billed birds in winter, is that infinite profusion of aurelie of the lepidoptera ordo, which is fastened to the twigs of trees and their trunks, to the pales and walls of gardens and buildings, and is found in every cranny and cleft of rock or rubbish, and even in the ground itself. Every species of titmouse winters with us. They have what I call a kind of intermediate bill, between the hard and | the soft, between the Linnean genera of fringilla and mota- cilla. One species alone spends its whole time in the woods and. fields, never retreating for succour, in the severest sea- sons, to houses and neighbourhoods,—and that is the delicate long-tailed titmouse, which is almost as minute as the golden- crowned wren; but the blue titmouse, or nun (parus ceru- leus), the cole-mouse (parus ater), the great black-headed titmouse (fringillago), and the marsh titmouse (parus palus- tris), all resort, at times, to buildings, and in hard weather particularly. The great titmouse, driven by stress of wea- ther, much frequents houses; and, in deep snows, I have seen this bird, while it hung with its back downwards (to * It is an interesting fact, as showing the care of the great Creator for his crea- tures, that the berries of the misseltoe only ripen in the spring, when the hips, haws, the berries of hollies and ivy have generally disappeared. Thus ina prolonged winter many birds are kept from starving by means of the misseltoc, which I never knew them to feed on till about the end of February or early in March.—Ep. + See Deruam’s Physico-Theology, p. 235. Tue TITMovsE. IRELAND. 201 my no small delight and admiration), draw straws lengthwise from out the eaves of thatched houses, in order to pull out the flies that were concealed between them, and that in such numbers that they quite defaced the thatch, and gave it a ragged appearance. The blue titmouse, or nun, is a great frequenter of houses, and a general devourer. Besides insects, it is very fond of flesh, for it frequently picks bones on dunghills. Jt is a vast admirer of suet, and haunts butchers’ shops. When a boy, I have known twenty in a morning caught with snap mouse-traps, baited with tallow or suet. It will also pick holes in apples left on the ground, and be well entertained with the seeds on the head of a sunflower. The blue, marsh, and great titmice will, in very severe weather, carry away barley and oat-straws from the sides of ricks. How the wheat-ear and whin-chat support themselves in winter, cannot be so easily ascertained, since they spend their time on wild heaths and warrens, the former, especially, where there are stone-quarries. Most probable it 1s, that their maintenance arises from the aurelia of the lepidoptera ordo, which furnish them with a plentiful table in the wilderness. LETTER LXIV. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, March 9, 1775. Dear Str,—Some future faunist, a man of fortune, will, I hope, extend his visits to the kingdom of Ireland;* a new * Ireland even still remains comparatively unexplored, except in its botanical productions. The scolopax sabini, a new species of snipe, was, I may say, accidentally discovered there, about three years since, of which specimens have been subsequently got, confirming the identity of the species; and we have every reason to expect some novelties, particularly in ichthyology and ento- mology. JLedwm palustre and papaver nudicale, are among the late botanical discoveries —W. J. Since this note was written, a “ Natura. His- tory of Ireland” has been undertaken by William Thompson, Hsq. The first two volumes, which are all yet published (1850), comprise the birds ; and, as far as we can judge by this portion, the work will be a valuable addition te our literature, 202 MAP OF SCOTLAND. field, and a country little known to the naturalist. He will not, it is to be wished, undertake that tour unaccompanied by a botanist, because the mountains have scarcely been sufficiently examined; and the southerly counties of so mild an island may possibly afford some plants little to be ex- pected within the British dominions. A person of a thinking turn of mind will draw many just remarks from the modern improvements of that country, both in arts and agriculture, where premiums obtained long before they were heard of with us. The manners of the wild natives, their super- stitions, their prejudices, their sordid way of life, will extort from him many useful reflections. He should also take with him an able draughtsman ; for he must, by no means, pass over the noble castles and seats, the extensive and pic- turesque lakes and water-falls, and the lofty, stupendous mountains, so little known, and so engaging to the imagi- nation, when described and exhibited in a lively manner. Such a work would be well received. As I have seen no modern map of Scotland, I cannot retend to say how accurate or particular any such may be; ut this I know, that the best old maps of that kingdom are very defective. The great obvious defect that I have remarked in all maps of Scotland that have fallen in my way is, a want of a coloured line, or stroke, that shall exactly define the just limits of that district called the Highlands. Moreover, all the great avenues to that mountainous and romantic country want to be well distinguished. The military roads formed by General Wade are so great and Roman-like an under- taking, that they well merit attention. My old map, Moll’s map, takes notice of Fort William, but could not mention the other forts that have been erected long since; therefore a good representation of the chain of forts should net be omitted. | | The celebrated zig-zag up the Coryarich must not be passed over. Moll takes notice of Hamilton and Drumlanrig, and such capital houses; but a new survey, no doubt, should represent every seat and castle remarkable for any great event, or celebrated for its paintings, &c. Lord Breadal- bane’s seat and beautiful policy are too curious and extraors dinary to be omitted. GOSSAMER. 203 The seat of the Earl of Eglintoun, near Glasgow, is warthy of notice. The pine plantations of that nobleman are very grand and extensive indeed. LETTER LXV. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. SELBORNE, June 8, 1775, Dear Str,—On September the 21st, 1741, being then on a visit, and intent on field diversions, I rose ‘before daybreak :’ when I came into the enclosures, I found the stubbles and: clover grounds matted all over with a thick coat of cobweb, in the meshes of which a copious and heavy dew hung so: plentifully, that the whole face of the country seemed, as it were, covered with two or three setting-nets, drawn one over another. When the dogs attempted to hunt, their eyes were so blinded and hoodwinked that they could not proceed, but were obliged to lie down and scrape the incumbrances from their faces with their fore feet; so that, finding my sport interrupted, I returned home, musing in my mind on the oddness of the occurrence. As the morning advanced, the sun became bright and warm, and the day turned out one of those most lovely ones which no season but the autumn produces,—cloudless, calm, serene, and worthy of the south of France itself. _ About nine, an appearance very unusual began to demand our attention,—a shower of cobwebs falling from very ele- vated regions, and continuing, without any interruption, till the close of the day. These webs are not single filmy threads, floating in the air in all directions, but perfect flakes or rags; some near an_ inch broad, and five or six long, which fell with a degree of velocity, that showed they were considerably heavier than the atmosphere. On every side, as the observer turned his eyes, he arets behold a continual succession of fresh flakes falling into his sight, and twinkling like stars, as they turned their sides towards the sun. 204 GOSSAMER. How far this wonderful shower extended, would be difficult to say; but we know that it reached Bradley, Selborne, and Alresford, three places which lie in a sort of triangle, the shortest of whose sides is about eight miles in extent. At the second of those places, there was a gentleman (for whose veracity and intelligent turn we have the greatest veneration) who observed it the moment he got abroad; but concluded that, as soon as he came upon the hill above his house, where he took his morning rides, he should be higher than this meteor, which he imagined might have been blown, like thistle-down, from the common above; but, to his great astonishment, when he rode to the most elevated part of the down, 300 feet above his fields, he found the webs, in appearance, still as much above him as before; still descend- ing into sight in a constant succession, and twinkling in the sun, so as to draw the attention of the most incurious.* Neither before nor after, was any such fall observed ; but on this day the flakes hung in the trees and hedges so thick, that a diligent person sent out might have gathered baskets full. The remark that I shall make on these cobweb-like appear- ances, called gossamer, is, that strange and superstitious as the notions about them were formerly, nobody in these days doubts but that they are the real production of small spiders, which swarm in the fields in fine weather in autumn, and have a power of shooting out webs from their tails, so as to render themselves buoyant, and lighter than air. But why these apterous insects should that day take such a wonderful aerial excursion, and why their webs should at once become so gross and material as to be considerably more weighty than air, and to descend with precipitation, is a matter beyond my skill. IfI might be allowed to hazard a * Dr. Lister, in his letters to Mr. Ray, says that on a day when the air was very full of Gossamer, he mounted to the top of the highest part of York minster, and found that the webs were still exceeding high above him.—Soe Ray's Letters, p. 87. Chaucer, speaking of gossamer as a strange phenomenon, says :— “ As sore some wonder at the cause of thunder, On ebb and flode, on gosomer, and mist 5 And on all thing, ’till that the cause is wist.’? Dryden calls it, “ The filmy gossamer.”—Eb. SOCIALITY OF BRUTES. 205 supposition, I should imagine that those filmy threads, when first shot, might be entangled in the rising dew, and so drawn up, spiders and all, by a brisk evaporation, into the region where clouds are formed; and if the spiders have a power of coiling and thickening their webs in the air, as Dr. Lister says they have [see his Letters to Mr. Ray], then, when they were become heavier than the air, they must fall. Every day in fine weather, in autumn chiefly, do I see those spiders shooting out their webs and mounting aloft: they will go off from your finger, if you will take them into your hand. Last summer one alighted on my book as I was reading in the parlour; and, running up to the top of the page, and shooting out a web, took his departure from thence. But what I most wondered at was, that it went off with considerable velocity in a place where no air was stirring; and I am sure that I did not assist it with my breath. So that these little crawlers seem to have, while mounting, some locomotive power without the use of wings, and to move in the air faster than the air itself. LETTER LXVI. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Aug. 15, 1775. Dear Str,—There is a wonderful spirit of sociality in the brute creation, independent of sexual attachment: the con- gregation of gregarious birds in the winter is a remarkable ' instance. Many horses, though quiet with company, will not stay one minute in a field by themselves: the strongest fences cannot restrain them. My neighbour’s horse will not only not stay by himself abroad, but he will not bear to be lett alone in a strange stable, without discovermg the utmost impatience, and endeavouring to break the rack and manger with his fore feet. He has been known to leap out at a stable- window, through which dung was thrown, after company ; and yet, in other respects, is remarkably quiet. Oxen and 206 SOCIALITY OF BRUTES. cows will not fatten by themselves; but will neglect the finest pasture that is not recommended by society. It would be needless to instance in sheep, which constantly flock together. But this propensity seems not to be confined to animals of the same species; for we know a doe, still alive, that was brought up from a little fawn with a dairy of cows ; with them it goes a-field, and with them it returns to the yard. The dogs of the house take no notice of this deer, being used ta her; but, if strange dogs come by, a chase ensues; while the master smiles to see his favourite securely leading her pur- suers over hedge, or gate, or stile, till she returns to the cows, who, with fierce lowings, and menacing horns, drive the assailants quite out of the pasture. Even great disparity of kind and size does not always prevent social advances and mutual fellowship. For a very intelligent and observant person has assured me, that in the former part of his life, keeping but one horse, he happened also on a time to have but one solitary hen.* These two incongruous animals spent much of their time together, m a lonely orchard, where they saw no creature but each other. By degrees, an apparent regard began to take between these two sequestered individuals. The fowl would approach the quadruped with notes of complacency, rubbing herself gently against his legs; while the horse would look down with satisfaction, and move with the greatest caution and cireum- spection, lest he should trample on his diminutive com- panion. Thus, by mutual good offices, each seemed to con- sole the vacant hours of the other: so that Milton, when he puts the following sentiment in the mouth of Adam, seems to be somewhat mistaken :— “ Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl, So well converse, nor with the ox the ape.” * A gentleman in Scotland had a cock golden pheasant sent him, which he confined in a pen with a solitary chicken which he happened to have. The birds formed a great affection for each other, which they showed in a variety ot ways. The pheasant, however, died, and was immediately stuffed, and the chicken turned loose. It appeared to be miserable after the death of its com- panion, and happening to see it after the pheasant had been stuffed, it drooped its wings after vainly attempting to get at it, and soon afterwards died.—Eb, GIPSIES, 207 LETTER LXVII. TO THE SAME. SELB RNE, Oct. 2, 1775. Drar Str,—We have two gangs, or hordes of gipsies, which infest the south and west of England, and come round in their circuit two or three times in the year. One of these tribes calls itself by the noble name of Stanley,* of which L have nothing particular to say ; but the other is distinguished by an appellative somewhat remarkable. As far as their harsh gibberish can be understood, they seem to say that the name of their clan is Curleople. Now the termination of this word is apparently Grecian; and, as Mezeray and the gravest historians all agree that these vagrants did certainly migrate from Egypt and the East, two or three centuries ago,f and so spread by degrees over Europe, may not this family name, a little corrupted, be the very name they brought with them from the Levant? It would be matter of some curiosity could one meet with an intelligent person among them, to inquire whether, in their jargon, they still retained any Greek words: the Greek radicals will appear in hand, foot, head, water, earth, &c. It is possible that, amidst their cant and corrupted dialect, many mutilated remains of their native language might still be discovered. With regard to these peculiar people, the gipsies, one thing is very remarkable, and especially as they came from a warmer climate, and that is, that while other beggars lodge in barns, stables, and cow-houses, these sturdy savages seem to pride themselves in braving the severities of winter, and in living swb dio the whole year round. Last September was as wet a month as ever was known; and yet, during those deluges, did a young gipsy girl lie in the midst of one of our * IT remember asking a gipsy of the name of Stanley whether she was of the Derby family. The woman was very indignant at the question, and stood up for the antiquity of her family, as infinitely more ancient than that of Derby.— Eb. + See Borrow’s Gipsies 208 RUSH CANDLES. hop-gardens, on the cold ground,* with nothing over her but a piece of a blanket, extended on a few hazel-rods bent hoop fashion, and stuck into the earth at each end, in circumstances too trying for a cow in the same condition; yet within this garden there was a large hop-kiln, into the chambers of which she might have retired, had she thought shelter an object worthy her attention. Europe itself, it seems, cannot set bounds to the rovings of these vagabonds ; for Mr. Bell, in his return from Peking, met a gang of these people on the confines of Tartary, who were endeavouring to penetrate those deserts, and try their fortune in China.t Gipsies are called in French, Bohemians; in Italian and modern Greek, Zingant. LETTER LXVITI, TO THE SAME. “ Hic tede pingues, hic plurimus ignis Semper, et assidua postes fuligine nigri.” SELBORNE, Wov. 1, 1775 I suai make no apology for troubling you with the detail of avery simple piece of domestic economy, being satisfied that you think nothing beneath your attention that tends to utility. The matter alluded to is the use of rushes instead of candles, which I am well aware prevails in many districts besides this; but as I know there are countries also where it does not obtain, and as I have considered the sub: * My kind old friend the late Dr. Fergusson, while residing at Windsor was sent for to see a young gipsy girl who was very ill with the small-pox. She was lying on the ground in the sort of tent Mr. White has described, Dr. Fergusson wanted to have her removed to a house, but nothing could pre- vail on the woman to leave her quarters. She eventually recovered, and for years afterwards he received grateful visits from this woman and some of her tribe to thank him for his kindness.—Eb. + See Berx’s Travels in China. RUSH CANDLES. 209 S with some degree of exactness, I shall proceed in my umble story, and leave you to judge of the expediency. The proper species of rush for this purpose seems to be the juncus conglomeratus, or common soft rush, which is to be found in most moist pastures, by the sides of streams, and under hedges. These rushes are in the best condition in the height of summer; but may be gathered, so as to serve the purpose well, quite on to autumn. It would be needless to add, that the largest and longest are best. Decayed labour- ers, women, and children, make it their business to procure and prepare them. As soon as they are cut, they must be flung into water and kept there, for otherwise they will dry and shrink, and the peel will not run. At first, a person would find it no easy matter to divest a rush of its peel, or rind, so as to leave one regular, narrow, even rib from top to bottom, that may support the pith ; but this, like other feats, soon becomes familiar, even to children; and we have seen an old woman, stone blind, performing this business with great dispatch, and seldom failing to strip them with the nicest regularity. When these jwnci are thus far prepared, they must lie out on the grass to be bleached, and take the dew for some nights, and afterwards be dried in the sun. Some address is required in dipping these rushes in the scalding fat or grease; but this knack also is to be attained by practice. The careful wife of an industrious Hampshire labourer obtains all her fat for nothing, for she saves the scummings of her bacon-pot for this use; and if the grease abounds with salt, she causes the salt to precipitate to the bottom, by setting the scummings over a warm oven. Where hogs are not much in use, and especially by the sea-side, the coarser animal oils will come very cheap. A pound of com- mon grease may be procured for fourpence; and about six pounds of grease will dip a pound of rushes; and one pound of rushes may be bought for one shilling; so that a pound of rushes, medicated and ready for use, will cost three shillings. If men that keep bees will mix a little wax with the grease, it will give it a consistency, and render it more cleanly, and make the rushes burn longer: mutton-suet would have the same effect. A good rush, which measured in length two feet four inches and a half, being minuted, burnt only three minutes P 21) RUSH CANDLES. short of an Lour; and a rush of still greater length has been known to burn one hour and a quarter. These rushes give a good clear light. Watch-lights (coated with tallow), it is true, shed a dismal one—‘“ darkness visible;”’ but then the wicks of those have two ribs of the rind, or peel, to support the pith, while the wick of the dipped rush has but one. The two ribs are intended to impede the progress of the flame, and make the candle last. In a pound of dry rushes, avoirdupois, which I caused to be weighed and numbered, we found upwards of one thou- sand six hundred individuals. Now, suppose each of these burns one with another only half an hour, then a poor man will purchase eight hundred hours of light, a time exceeding thirty-three entire days, for three shillings. Accordmg to this account, each rush, before dipping, cost one thirty-third of a farthing, and one eleventh afterwards. Thus a poor family will enjoy five and a half hours of comfortable light for a farthing. Anexperienced old housekeeper assures me, that one pound and a half of rushes completely supplies his family the year round, since working people burn no candle in the long days, because they rise and go to bed by daylight. Little farmers use rushes much in the short days, both morning and evening, in the dairy and kitchen; but the very poor, who are always the worst economists, and there- fore must continue very poor, buy a halfpenny candle every evening, which in their blowing open rooms, does not burn much more than two hours.. Thus have they only two hours’ light for their money, instead of eleven. While on the subject of rural economy, it may not be improper to mention a pretty implement of housewifery that we have seen no where else; that is, little neat besoms which our foresters make from the stalks of the polytricum commune, or great golden maiden-hair, which they call silk-wood, and find plenty in the bogs.* When this moss is well combed and dressed, and divested of its outer skin, it becomes of a beautiful bright chestnut colour; and being soft and pliant, * Very commonly used in Scotland for the same purposes, and also for mats, or rugs, which are plaited together, leaving the tops sticking out for two ur three inches, and thus making both a warm and useful household appendage. —W. J. PROPENSITY OF AN IDIOT BOY yAS ts very proper for the dusting of beds, curtains, carpets, nangings, &c. If these besoms were known to the brush- makers in town, it is probable they might come much in use for the purpose above mentioned.* LETTER LXIX. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Dec. 12, 1775, Dear Sir,—We had in this village, more than twenty years ago, an idiot boy, whom I well remember, who, from a child, showed a strong propensity to bees; they were his food, his amusement, his sole object. And as people of this cast have seldom more than one point in view, so this lad exerted all his few faculties on this one pursuit. In the winter he dozed away his time, within his father’s house, by the fire- side,in a kind of torpid state, seldom departing from the _ chimney corner; but in the summer he was all alert, and in quest of his game in the fields, and on sunny banks. Honey- bees, humble-bees, and wasps, were his prey wherever he found them: he had no apprehensions from their stings, but would seize them with naked hands, and at once disarm them of their weapons, and suck their bodies for the sake of their honey-bags. Sometimes he would fill his bosom, between his shirt and his skin, with a number of these captives: and sometimes would confine them in bottles. He was a very merops apiaster, or bee-bird; and very injurious to men that kept bees; for he would slide into their bee-gardens, and sitting down before the stools, would rap with his finger on the hives, and so take the bees as they came out. He has been known to overturn hives for the sake of honey, of which he was passionately fond. Whero metheglin was making, he would linger round the tubs and vessels, begging a draught of what he called bee-wine. As ® A Sesom of this sort is to be seen in Sir Ashton Lever’s museum, e2 at? SUPERSTITIONS OF SELKORNE, he ran about, he used to make a humming noise with his lips, resembling the buzzing of bees. This lad was lean and sallow, and of a eadaverous complexion; and, except in his favourite pursuit, in which he was wonderfully adroit, dis- covered no manner of understanding. Had his capacity been better, and directed to the same object, he had perhaps abated much of our wonder at the feats of a more modern exhibiter of bees; and we may justly say of him now, “ Thou, Had thy presiding star propitious shone, Shouldst Wildman be.” * When a tall youth, he was removed from hence to a distant village, where he died, as I understand, before he arrived at manhood. LETTER LXX. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Jan. 8, 1776. Dear Srr,—It is the hardest thing in the world to shake off superstitious prejudices: they are sucked in as it were with our mother’s milk; and growing up with us at a time when they take the fastest hold, and make the most lasting impressions, become so interwoven into our very consti- tutions, that the strongest good sense is required to disen- gage ourselves from them. No wonder, therefore, that the | 1ower people retain them their whole hves through, since their minds are not invigorated by a liberal education, and therefore not enabled to make any efforts adequate to the occasion. Such a preamble seems to be necessary before we enter on the superstitions of this district, lest we should be sus- * It may not be generally known that Wildman’s celebrated work on bees was wiitten by Dr, Templeman, Secretary to the Society of Arts—Kp. SUPERSTITIONS OF SELBORNE. 213 ed of exaggeration in a recital of practices too gross for this enlightened age. But the people of Tring, in Hertfordshire, would do well to remember, that no longer ago than the year 1751, and within twenty miles of the capital, they seized on two super- annuated wretches, crazed with age, and overwhelmed with infirmities, on a suspicion of witchcraft; and, by trying experiments, drowned them in a horse-pond. In a farm-yard, near the middle of this village, stands at this day, a row of pollard-ashes, which, by the seams and long cicatrices down their sides, manifestly show that in former times they have been cleft asunder. These trees, when young and flexible, were severed and held open by wedges, while ruptured children stripped naked were pushed through the apertures, under a persuasion that by such a process, the poor babes would be cured of their infirmity. As soon as the operation was over, the tree in the suffering part was plastered with loam, and carefully swathed up. If the parts coalesced and soldered together, as usually fell out where the feat was performed with any adroitness at all, the party was cured; but where the cleft continued to gape, the operation, it was supposed, would prove ineffectual. Having occasion to enlarge my garden not long since, I cut down two or three such trees, one of which did not grow together. We have several persons now living in the village, who, in their childhood, were supposed to be healed by this superstitious ceremony, derived down, perhaps, from our Saxon ancestors, who practised it before their conversion to Christianity.* At the south corner of the Plestor, or area, near the * The popular superstitions extend even to inseets. A woman in my neighbourhood told me that she had lost all her hives of bees, because she had not tapped at each of the hives when her poor dear husband died, te announce his death to the bees. It is also a common custom to attach a smai: piece of black cloth or crape in a split stick and to fasten it on a hive when the owner has died. The author of a Tour in Brittany says, that, “if bees are kept at a house where a marriage feast is celebrated, care is always taken to dress up their hives in red, which is done by placing upon them pieces of scarlet cloth; the Bretons imagining that the bees would forsake their dwellings if they were not made to participate in the rejoicings of their owners, In the like manner they are all put into mourning when a death occurs in the famiiy."—Ep. 214 SUPERSTITIONS OF SELBORNE. church, there stood, about twenty years ago, a very o.d, grotesque, hollow pollard-ash, which for ages had been looked on with no small veneration as a shrew-ash. Now, a shrew-ash is an ash whose twigs or branches, when gently applied to the limbs of cattle, will immediately relieve the pains which a beast suffers from the running of a shrew- mouse over the part affected;* for it is supposed that a shrew-mouse is of so baneful and deleterious a nature, that wherever it creeps over a beast, be it horse, cow, or sheep, the suffering animal is afflicted with cruel anguish, and threatened with the loss of the use of the limb. Against this accident, to which they were continually liable, our pro vident forefathers always kept a shrew-ash at hand, which, when once medicated, would maintain its virtue for ever. A shrew-ash was made thus :+—Into the body of the tree a deep hole was bored with an auger, and a poor devoted shrew-mouse was thrust in alive, and plugged in, no doubt, with several quaint incantations, long since forgotten. As the ceremonies necessary for such a consecration are no longer understood, all succession is at an end, and no such tree is known to exist in the manor or hundred. As to that on the Plestor, “ The late vicar stubb’d and burnt it,” when he was way-warden, regardless of the remonstrances of the by-standers, who interceded in vain for its preservation, urging its power and efficacy, and alleging that it had been “ Religione patrum multos servata per annos,” With reverential awe preserved for years. * They were supposed, also, to be particularly injurious to horses. “ When a horse in the fields happened to be suddenly seized with anything like a numbness in his legs, he was immediately judged by the old persons to be either planet-struck, or shrew-struck. The mode of cure which they pre- scribed, and which they considered in all cases as infallible, was to drag the animal through a piece of bramble that grew at both ends.”—BrInGLey’s Memoirs of British Quadrupeds.—Cats will kill shrews, but will not eat them.—W. J. + For a similar practice, see Puot’s Staffordshire. WHIPPING OF TREES. 218 LETTER LXXI. TO THE SAME. Se.porneE, Feb. 7, 1776. Dear Str,—In heavy fogs, on elevated situations especially, trees are perfect alembics ; and no one that has not attended to such matters can imagine how much water one tree will distil in a night’s time, by condensing the vapour, which trickles down the twigs and boughs, so as to make the ground below quite in a float. In Newton-lane, in October, 1775, on a misty day, a particular oak in leaf dropped so fast that the cart-way stood in puddles, and the ruts ran with water, though the ground in general was dusty. In some of our smaller islands in the West Indies, if I mistake not, there are no springs or rivers; but the people are supplied with that necessary element, water, merely by the dripping of some large tall trees, which, standing in the bosom of a mountain, keep their heads constantly enveloped with fogs and clouds, from which they dispense their kindly, never-ceasing moisture; and so render those districts habitable by condensation alone. Trees in leaf have such a vast proportion more of surface than those that are naked, that, in theory, their condensa- tions should greatly exceed those that are stripped of their leaves ; but, as the former imbibe also a great quantity of moisture, it is difficult to say which dr p most: but this I know, that deciduous trees, that are entwined with much ivy, seem to distil the greatest quantity. Ivy leaves are smooth, and thick, and cold, and therefore condense very fast ; and besides, evergreens imbibe very little.* These * It has been supposed that trees, by condensing the moisture of the air in foggy weather, matevially affect the climate, and that thickly wooded countries must necessarily be colder and more humid than naked savannahs, There can be little doubt that such is the case. When sowe North American Indians made the discovery that the wild cattle of the prairies got amidst the smoke ef a burning forest to drive away the flies, they set fire to large tracte 216 PONDS ON HILLS. facts may furnish the intelligent with hints concerning what sorts of trees they should plant round small ponds that they would wish to be perennial; and show them how adyan- tageous some trees are in preference to others. Trees perspire profusely, condense largely, and check eva- poration so much, that woods are always moist ; no wonder, therefore, that they contribute much to pools and streams. That trees are great promoters of lakes and rivers appears from a well-known fact in North America; for, since the woods and forests have been grebbed and cleared, all bodies of water are much diminished; so that some streams that were very considerable a century ago will not now drive a common mill.* Besides, most woodlands, forests, and chases, with us, abound with pools and morasses, no doubt for the reason given above. To a thinking mind, few phenomena are more strange than the state of little ponds on the summits of chalk hills, many of which are never dry in the most trying droughts of summer ;—on chalk hills, I say, because in many rocky and gravelly soils springs usually break out pretty high on the sides of elevated grounds and mountains; but no person acquainted with chalky districts will allow that they ever saw springs in such a soil but in valleys and bottoms, since the waters of so pervious a stratum as chalk all lie on one dead level, as well-diggers have assured me again and again. Now, we have many such little round ponds in this dis- trict; and one in particular on our sheep-down, three hundred feet above my house, which, though never above three feet deep in the middle, and not more than thirty feet in diameter, and containing perhaps not more than two or three hundred hogsheads of water, yet never is known to fail, though it affords drink for three hundred or four hundred sheep, and for at least twenty head of large cattle besides. This pond, it is true, is overhung with two moderate beeches, that, doubtless, at times afford it much supply; but then we have others as small, that, without the aid of trees, and in in order the more readily to destroy the buffaloes. The consequence was that light and air penetrated the forests, the snow melted rapidly, and it haa materially altered the climate of the vast regions of North America. So Sin Francis Hrav’s Lmigrant.—Ep. * Vide Kaux’s Travels to North America. THE CUCKOO. 217 spite of evaporation from sun and wind, and perpetual con- sumption by cattle, yet constantly maintain a moderate share of water, without overflowing in the wettest seasons, as they would do if supplied by springs. By my journal of May, 1775, it appears that “the small and even considerable ponds on the vales are now dried up, while the small ponds on the very tops of hills are but little affected.’ Can this difference be accounted for from evaporation alone, which certainly is more prevalent in bottoms? or rather have not those elevated pools some unnoticed recruits, which in the night-time counterbalance the waste of the day, without which the cattle alone must soon exhaust them? And here it will be necessary to enter more minutely into the cause. Dr. Hales, in his Vegetable Statics, advances, from experi- ment, that “the moister the earth is, the more dew falls on it in a night; and more than a double quantity of dew falls on an equal surface of moist earth.” Hence we see that water, by its coolness, is enabled to assimilate to itself a large quantity of moisture nightly by condensation; and that the air, when loaded with fogs and vapours, and even with copious dews, can alone advance a considerable and never-failing resource. Persons that are much abroad, and travel early and late, such as shepherds, fishermen, &c., can tell what prodigious fogs prevail in the night on elevated downs, even in the hottest parts of summer; and how much the surfaces of things are drenched by those swimming vapours, though to the senses all the while little moisture seems to fall. LETTER LXXTII. TO THE SAME. SELBoRNE, April 3, 1776. Dear Sir,—Monsieur Herissant, a French anatomist, seems ersuaied that he has discovered the reason why cuckoos * do not hatch their own eggs; the impediment, he supposes, * The cuckoo is the largest of insectivorous birds, and must require a great 218 THE CUCKOO. arises from the internal structure of their parts, which inca- pacitates them for incubation. According to this gentleman, the crop, or craw, of a cuckoo, does not lie before the sternum at the bottom of the neck, as in the galline, columbe, &¢., but immediately behind it, on and over the bowels, so as to make a large protuberance in the belly.* Induced by this assertion, we procured a cuckoo; and, cutting open the breast-bone, and exposing the intestines to sight, found the crop lying as mentioned above. This stomach was large and round, and stuffed hard, like a pin- cushion, with food, which, upon nice examination, we found to consist of various insects, such as small scarabs, spiders, and dragon-flies—the last of which we have seen cuckoos catching on the wing, as they were just emerging out of the aurelia state. Among this farrago also were to be seen maggots, and many seeds which belonged either to goose- berries, currants, cranberries, or some such fruit; so that these birds apparently subsist on insects and fruits ; nor was there the least appearance of bones, feathers, or fur, to sup- port the idle notion of their being birds of prey-t The sternum in this bird seemed to us to be remarkably short, between which and the anus lay the crop, or craw, ie immediately behind that the bowels, against the back- one. It must be allowed, as this anatomist observes, that the crop,t placed just below the bowels, must, especially when full, be in a very uneasy situation during the business of quantity of food ; to obtain which they must, like the swallow, be in constant search of it. If they sat on their eggs, therefore, how is this necessary supply to be obtained? The eggs would be chilled while they were on the wing.—Eb. * Histoire de V Academie Royale, 1752. + When these birds have fed much on some of the large hairy caverta so common on the northern muirs, the stomach becomes filled and coated with the short hairs, which may have assisted in raising the opinion that they feed on small animals.—W. J. + “The cuckoo,” Mr. Owen says, “has no true crop, and the situation of its proventiculus does not differ from that of other scansorial birds; the esophagus descends along the posterior or dorsal part of the thorax, inclining to the side, and, when opposite to the lower margin of the left lung, it begins to expand ‘into the glandular cavity or proventiculus. The gizzard, which is neither large or strong, is in immediate contact with the abdominal parietes, not separated from them by an intervening stratum of intestines; THE VIPER. 219 incubation ; yet the test will be, to examine whether birds that are actually known to sit for certain, are not fermed in a similar manner. This inquiry I proposed to myself to make with a fern-owl, or goat-sucker, as soon as opportunity offered; because, if their information proves the same, the reason for incapacity in the cuckoo will be allowed to have been taken up somewhat hastily. Not long after, a fern-owl was procured, which, from its habits and shape, we suspected might resemble the cuckoo in its internal construction. Nor were our suspicions ill grounded ; for, upon the dissection, the crop, or craw, also lay behind the sternum, immediately on the viscera, between them and the skin of the belly. It was bulky, and stuffed hard with large phalene, moths of several sorts, and their eggs, which, no doubt, had been forced out of these insects by the action of swallowing. Now, as it appears that this bird, which is so well known to practise incubation, is formed in a similar manner with cuckoos, Monsieur Herissant’s conjecture that cuckoos are incapable of incubation from the disposition of their intes- tines, seems to fall to the ground ; and we are still at a loss for the cause of that strange and singular peculiarity in the instance of the cweulus exnorus. We found the case to be the same with the ring-tail hawk, in respect to formation ; and, as far as I can recollect, with the swift; and probabiy it is so with many more sorts of birds that are not granivorous. LETTER LXXIII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Aprif 29, 1776. Dear Str,—-Gn August the 4th, 1775, we surprised a large viper, which seemed very heavy and bloated, as it lay in the ass, basking in the sun. When we came to cut it up, we found that the abdomen was crowded with young, fifteen in but this position cannot be supposed to interfere with the power of incuba- tion, since it occurs also in other birds that do incubate, as the owl and Caryocatacles.” . 220 THE VIPER. number; the shortest of which measured full seven inches, and were about the size of full-grown earth-worms. This little fry issued into the world with the true viper spirit about them, showing great alertness as soon as disengaged from the belly of the dam: they twisted and wriggled about, and set themselves up, and gaped very wide when touched with a stick, showing manifest tokens of menace and defi- ance, though as yet they had no manner of fangs that we could find, even with the help of our glasses. To a thinking mind, nothing is more wonderful than that early instinct which impresses young animals with the notion of the situation of their natural weapons, and of using them properly in their own defence, even before those weapons subsist or are formed. Thus a young cock will spar at his adversary before his spurs are grown, and a calf or lamb will push with their heads before their horns are sprouted. In the same manner did these young adders attempt to bite before their fangs were in being. The dam, however, was furnished with very formidable ones, which we lifted up (for they fold down when not used), and cut them off with the point of our scissors. There was little room to suppose that this brood had ever been in the open air before,* and that they were taken in for refuge, at the mouth of the dam, when she perceived that danger was approaching; because then, probably, we should have found them somewhere in the neck, and not m the abdomen. * The very circumstance which Mr. White mentions, of the young vipere being fully seven inches in length, proves that they had been in the open air before, as they have been known to leave the stomach of the dam when they have been from one to two inches in length. From various facts commu- nicated to me by viper-catchers and others, I can have no doubt but that the young vipers, when alarmed, take refuge in the inside of the parent, whe extends her mouth for the purpose.—Eb. CASTRATION. 221 LETTER LXXTYV., TO THE SAME. CasTRATION has a strange effect: it emasculates both man, beast, and bird, and brings them to a near resemblance of the other sex. Thus, eunuchs have smooth unmuscular arms, thighs, and. legs; and broad hips, and beardless chins, and squeaking voices. Gelt stags and bucks have hornless heads,* like hinds and does. ‘Thus wethers have small horns, like ewes; and oxen large bent horns, and hoarse voices when they low, like cows: for bulls have short straight horns; and though they mutter and grumble in a deep tremendous tone, yet they low ina shrill high key. Capons have small combs and gills, and look pallid about the head like pullets; they also walk without any parade, and hover chickens like hens. Barrow-hogs have also small tusks, like sows. Thus far it is plaim, that the deprivation of masculine vigour puts a stop to the growth of those parts or appendages that are looked upon as its insignia. But the imgenious Mr. Lisle, in his book on husbandry, carries it much further ; for he says that the loss of those insignia alone has some- times a strange effect on the ability itself. He had a boar so fierce and venereous that, to prevent mischief, orders were given for his tusks to be broken off. No sooner had the beast suffered this injury than his powers forsook hun, and he neglected those females to whom before he was passicn- ately attached, and from whom no fences could restrain him.t * This is not the case if the spermatic cord has been separated. It equally emasculates the animal, but the horns remain as before the operation.—Eb. + LI apprehend this remark to be erroneous, as I have known the tusks of many dangerous boars sawn off, for safety, without any such consequence following. I have seen them, however, no longer able io command the monopoly of the sows, as the young boars were no longer afraid of them. —Mr. SeExzs. 222 TUE HUG LETTER LXXYV, TO THE SAME. THE natural term of a hog’s life is little known, and the reason is pla n—because it is neither profitable nor conve- nient to keep that turbulent animal to the full extent of its time; however, my neighbour, a man of substance, who had no occasion to study every little advantage to a nicety, kept a half-bed Bantam sow, who was as thick as she was long, and whose belly swept on the ground, till she was advanced to her seventeenth year; at which period, she showed some tokens of age by the decay of her teeth, and the decline of her fertility. For about ten years, this prolific mother produced two litters in the year, of about ten at a time, and once above twenty at a litter; but, as there were near double the number of pigs to that of teats, many died. From long experience in the world, this female was grown very sagacious and artful. When she found occasion to converse with a boar, she used to open all the intervening gates, and march, by herself, up to a distant farm where one was kept; and, when her purpose was served, would return by the same means. At the age of about fifteen, her litters began to be reduced to four or five ; and such a litter she exhibited when in her fatting-pen. She proved, when fat, good bacon, juicy and tender; the rind, or sward, was remarkably thin. At a moderate computation, she was allowed to have been the fruitful parent of three hundred pigs—a prodigious instance of fecundity in so large a quadruped! She was killed in spring, 1775. LA ZA THe Common oR Domestic Hoe. (Sus scrofa.) AFFECTION IN A CAT. pas LETTER LXXVI. TO THE SAME, * SELBoRNE, May 9, 1776. 6 Admé6runt ubera tigres.” Deaz Str,— We have remarked in a former letter how much incongruous animals, in a lonely state, may be attached to each other from a spirit of sociality ; in this, it may not be amiss to recount a different motive, which has been known to create as strange a fondness. My friend had a little helpless leveret brought to him, which the servants fed with milk in a spoon, and about the same time, his cat kittened, and the young were dispatched and buried. ‘The hare was soon lost, and supposed to be gone the way of most foundlings, to be killed by some dog or cat. However, in about a fortnight, as the master was sitting in his garden, in the dusk of the evening, he observed his cat, with tail erect, trotting towards him, and calling with littie snort inward notes of complacency, such as they use towards their kittens, and something gamboling after, which proved to be the leveret that the cat had supported with her milk, and continued to support with great affection.* * About two years since, at a cottar’s house in Annandale, Dumfries-shire, a litter of pigs by some accident lost their mother; at the same time a pointer bitch happened to pup, and the puppies suffering the lot common to most suci, their place was supplied by the pigs, which were well and affectionately nursed by their foster-parent—W. J., 1829. It has been most beautifully and providentially ordered that the process ot suckling their young is as pleasurable to the parent animal, as it is essential te the support of the infant progeny. The mamme of animals become painful when over distended with milk. Drawing off that fluid removes positive uneasiness, and affords positive pleasure. The nipple, previously soft and flaccid, becomes, on the young beginning to suck, enlarged, firm, and erect, and the flowing of the milk is accompanied by an exquisitely pleasing sensation. The nipple is highly organised, and becomes enlarged on application of slight friction, and by a kind of spasmodic action will sometimes throw ou: the 094 WORMS, Thus was a graiinivorous animal nurtured by a carnivorous and predaceous one! Why so cruel and sanguinary a beast as a cat, of the fero- cious genus of felis, the murium leo, “the lion of mice,” as Linneus calls it, should be affected with any tenderness towards an animal which is its natural prey, is not so easy to determine. This strange affection probably was occasioned by that desiderium, those tender maternal feelings, which the loss of her kittens had awakened in her breast; and by the com- placency and ease she derived to herself from procuring her teats to be drawn, which were too much distended with milk; till, from habit, she became as much delighted with this foundling, as if it had been her real offspring. . This incident is no bad solution of that strange circum- stance which grave historians, as well as the poets, assert, of exposed children being sometimes nurtured by femaie wild beasts that probably had lost their young. For it is not one whit more marvellous that Romulus and Remus, in their infant state, should be nursed by a she-wolf, than that a poor little sucking leveret should be fostered and cherished by a bloody grimalkin. LETTER LXXVII. TO THE SAME. Serzorne, May 20, 1777. Dear Sir,—Lands that are subject to frequent inundations are always poor; and, probably, the reason may be, because the worms are drowned. The most insignificant insects and reptiles are 2f much more consequence, and have much more influence in the economy of Nature, than the incurious are aware of; and are mighty in their effect, from their minute- ness, which renders them less an object of attention; and milk in jets. I once saw a young panther suckled by a bitch, and Jast year I had a kitten who was often to be seen sucking a spaniel bitch, Many ether instance- might be brought forward.—Ep. WORMS. . 225 from their numbers and fecundity. Earth-worms, though in appearance a small and despicable link in the chain of Nature, yet, if lost, would make a lamentable chasm.* Fot to say nothing of half the birds, and some quadrupeds, which are almost entirely supported by them, worms seem to be the great promoters of vegetation, which would proceed but lamely without them, by boring, perforating, and loosen- ing the soil, and rendering it pervious to rains and the fibres of plants, by drawing straws and stalks of leaves into it; and, most of all, by throwing up such infinite numbers of lumps of earth, called worm-casts, which being their excre- ment, is a fine manure for grain and grass.t Worms pro- * The following interesting account of the earth-worm was communicated to me by an intelligent correspondent :—“ On Tuesday night, February 3rd, 1836, we had the deepest snow which has fallen for the winter; though not to be compared with what fell in the west, and in other parts of England. As on other occasions we observed the blackbirds and thrushes drawing up to the house, and cowering as if to give notice of a coming storm. On the following morning, on looking out of window we noticed an unusual appear- ance. At first sight it seemed as if the unsullied snow had many little twigs or sticks scattered all over its surface. On closer inspection it proved that numbers of large earth-worms were writhing on the face of the snow, and they furnished a rich repast for the birds to breakfast on, so that some of our usual visitors forsook their crumbs under the verandah. What circumstances can have induced these earth-worms to leave their holes and to be found in such an uncongenial station, we cannot imagine. Perhaps, as the evening was mild and moist they may have sallied forth, and the snow, coming suddenly, may have prevented their finding their way to their homes. _But why mount to the surface and expose themselves to certain death! The recollection of this phenomenon is still fresh in our memories, and when I recalled it toa sister who was with us, she spoke of it with disgust, as like a layer of flesh upon the snow. But I have never had the causes clearly explained, nor am I sufficiently acquainted with the habits of earth-worms to do so. As far as I have observed they never leave their holes, unless something is the matter. You have probably observed on a mild moist evening, when they bask on the turf, and dart into their holes with infinite vivacity, that they always retain possession at one extremity. I have found that if I have snatched one from his hold, I could not restore it again. The poor creature was quite lost, and could neither find his way home himself or be replaced in it by me. Am I right in supposing that they never voluntarily leave their holes? Or do they wander forth in the depth of the night, and in the case described above, were they excluded by the sudden fall of snow and change of tem- perature ? ”—Ep. + The runs, also, made by worms in the earth, enables the water to per- colate to the roots of wheat and other grain. Worm-casts, when collected are an excellent soil for many flowers, such as carnations, pinks, &c.—Eb. Q 226 WORMS. “ably provide new soils for hills and slopes where the rain washes the earthaway ;and they affect slopes, probably, to avoid being flooded. Gardeners and farmers express their detiestation of worms ;* the former, because they render their walks unsightly, and make them much work: and the latter, because, as they think, worms eat their green corn. But these men would find, that the earth without worms would soon become cold, hard-bound, and void of fermentation ; and, consequently, sterile: and, besides, in favour of worms, it should be hinted, that green corn, plants and flowers are not so much injured by them as by many species of coleoptera (scarabs), and tipule (long-legs), in their larva or grub-state; and by unnoticed myriads of small shell-less snails, called slugs, which silently and imperceptibly make amazing havoc in the field and garden.t These hints we think proper to throw out, in order to set the inquisitive and discerning to work. A good monography of worms would afford much enter- * We are indebted to Charles Darwin, Esq., for a remarkable and interest- ing memoir on the utility of the earth-worm, read before the Geological Society. The worm-casts, which so much annoy the gardener by deforming his smooth-shaven lawns, are of no small importance to the agriculturist; and this despised creature is not only of great service in loosening the earth, and rendering it permeable by air and water, but is also a most active and power- ful agent in adding to the depth of the soil, and in covering comparatively barren tracts with a superficial layer of wholesome mould. The author's attention was disected by Mr. Wedgwood, of Maer Hall, Staffordshire, to several fields, some of which had a few years before been covered with lime, and others with burnt marl and cinders, which substances in every case are now buried to the depth of some inches below the turf, just as if, as the farmers believe, the particles had worked themselves down. After showing the impossibility of this supposed operation, the author affirms that the whole is due to the digestive process by which the common earth-worm is sup- ported; since, on carefully examining between the blades of grass in the fields above-mentioned, he found that there was scarcely a space of two inches square without a little heap of cylindrical castings of worms; it being well known that worms swallow the earthy matter, and that having separated the serviceable portion, they eject at. the mouth of their burrows the remainder in little intestine-shaped heaps. Still more recently Mr. Darwin has noticed a more remarkable instance of this kind, in which, in the course of eighty years, the earth-worm had covered a field then manured with marl, with a bed of earth, averaging thirteen inches in thickness. + Farmer Young, of Norton-farm, says, that this spring (1777) about four actes of his wheat in one field was entirely destroyed by slugs, which gwain.ed on the blades of corn, and devoured it as fast as it sprang. Worms. (Vermes.) TORPIDITY OF SWALLOWS. 997 tainment, and information, at the same time; and would open a large and new field in natural history. Worms work most in the spring, but by no means lie torpid in the dead months; are out every mild night in the winter, as any per- son may be convinced that will take the pains to examine his grass plots with a candle; are hermaphrodites, and much addicted to venery, and consequently very prolific. LETTER LXX VIII. TO THE SAME. SELBoRNE, Nov. 22, 1777. Drar Str,—You cannot but remember that the 26th and 27th of last March were very hot days; so sultry, that every body complained, and were restless under those sensations to which they had not been reconciled by gradual approaches. This sudden summer-like heat was attended by many sum- mer coincidences; for, on those two days, the thermometer rose to sixty-six in the shade; many species of insects revived and came forth; some bees swarmed in this neighbourhood ; the old tortoise, near Lewes, awakened, and came forth out of its dormitory; and, what is most to my present purpose, many house-swallows appeared, and were very alert in many places, and particularly at Cobham, in Surrey. But as that short warm period was succeeded as well us preceded by harsh, severe weather, with frequent frosts and ice, and cutting winds, the insects withdrew, the tortoise retired again into the ground, and the swallows were seen no more until the 10th of April, when the rigour of the spring abating, a softer season began to prevail. Again, it appears by my journals for many years past, that house-martins retire, to a bird, about the beginning of Octo- ber; so that a person not very observant of such matters would conclude that they had taken their last farewell; but then it may be seen in my diaries, also, that considerable flocks have discovered themselves again in the first week of November, and often on the fourth day of that month, only Qs 228 LEPIOSY. for one day ; and that not as if they were im actual migras tion, but piaying about at their leisure, and feeding calmly, as if no enterprise of moment at all agitated their spirits. And this was the ease in the beginning of this very month; for, on the 4th of November, more than twenty house- martins, which, in appearance, had all departed about the 7th of October, were seen again, for that one morning only, sporting between my fields and the Hanger, and feasting on insects which swarmed im that sheltered district. The pre- ceding day was wet and blustering, but the fourth was dark, and mild, and soft, the wind at south-west, and the thermo- meter at 584, a pitch not common at that season of the year. Moreover, it may not be amiss to add in this place, that whenever the thermometer is above 50, the bat comes flitting out in every autumnal and winter month. From all these circumstances laid together, it is obvious that torpid insects, reppies, and quadrupeds, are awakened from their profoundest slumbers by a little untimely warmth, and, therefore, that nothing so much promotes this death- like stupor as a defect of heat. And, farther, it is reasonable to suppose, that two whole species, or at least many indivi-. duals of these two species of British hirundines, do never leave this island at all, but partake of the same benumbed state; for we cannot suppose that, after a month’s absence, house-martins can return from southern regions to appear for one morning in November, or that house-swallows should leave the districtsggf Africa to enjoy, in March, the transient: summer of a see of days. LETTER LXXIX. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Jan. 8, 1778. Dear Str,—There was in this little village several years ago, a miserable pauper who from his birth was afflicted with a leprosy, as far as we are aware, of a singular kind, since it affected only the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. LEPROSY. 229 This scaly eruption usually broke out twice in the year, at the spring and fall; and by peeling away left the skin so thin and tender that neither his hands nor his feet were able to perform their functions ; so that the poor object was half his time on crutches, incapable of employ, and languish- ing in a tiresome state of indolence and inactivity. His habit was lean, lank, and cadaverous. In this sad plight he dragged on a miserable existence, a burden to himself and his parish, which was obliged to support him, till he was relieved by death, at more than thirty years of age. The good women, who love to account for every defect in children by the doctrine of longing, said that his mother felt a violent propensity for oysters, which she was unable to gratify, and that the black rough scurf on his hands and feet were the shells of that fish, We knew his parents, neither of whom were lepers ; his father, in particular, lived to be far advanced in years. In all ages, the leprosy has made dreadful havoc among mankind. The Israelites seem to have been greatly afflicted with it from the most remote times, as appears from the peculiar and repeated injunctions given them in the Levitical law.* Nor was the rancour of this foul disorder much abated in the last period of their commonwealth, as may be seen in many passages of the New Testament. Some centuries ago, this horrible distemper prevailed all over Europe; and our forefathers were by no means exempt, as appears by the large provision made iy objects labourmg under this calamity. There was an’ hospital for female lepers in the diocese of Lincoln, a noble one near Durham, three in London and Southwark, and perhaps many more in or near our great towns and cities. Moreover, some crowned heads, and other wealthy and charitable personages, be- queathed large legacies to such poor people as languished under this hopeless infirmity. It must, therefore, in these days be to a humane and thinking person a matter of equal wonder and satisfaction when he contemplates how nearly this pest is eradicated, and, observes that a leper is now a2 rare sight. He will, more- over, when engaged in such a train of thought, naturally * See Leviticus, chap. xiii. and xiv, 230 LEPROSY. inquire for the reason. This happy change, perhaps, may have originated and been continued from the much smaller quantity of salted meat and fish now eaten in these kingdoms —from the use of linen next the skin—from the plenty of better bread—and from the profusion of fruits, roots, legumes, and greens, so common in every family. Three or four centuries ago, before there were any enclosures, sown grasses, field turnips, or field carrots, or hay, all the cattle that had grown fat in summer, and were not killed for winter use, were turned out soon after Michuelmas to shift as they could through the dead months: so that no fresh meat could be bad in winter or spring. Hence the marvei- sous account of the vast stores of salted flesh found im the larder of the eldest Spencer,* in the days of Edward the Second, even so late in the spring as the 3d of May. Itwas from magazines like these that the turbulent barons supported in idleness their riotous swarms of retamers, ready for any disorder or mischief. But agriculture has now arrived at such a pitch of perfection, that our best and fattest meats are killed in the winter; and no man needs eat salted flesh, unless he prefer it, that has money to buy fresh. One cause of this distemper might be, no doubt,. the quantity of wretched fresh and salt fish consumed by the commonalty at all seasons, as well as in Lent, which our poor now would hardly be persuaded to touch. The use of linen changes, shifts or shirts, in the room of sordid or filthy woollen, long worn next the skin, is a matter of neatness comparatively modern, but must prove a great means of preventing cutaneous ails. At this very time, woollen instead of linen prevails among the poorer Welsh, who are subject to foul eruptions. The pleuty of good wheaten bread that now is found among all ranks of people in the south, instead of that miser- able sort which used in old days to be made of barley or beans, may contribute not a little to the sweetening their blood, and correcting their juices; for the inhabitants of mountainous districts to this day are still liable to the itch and other cutaneous disorders, from a wretchedness and poverty of diet. 4 * "Viz. six hundred bacons, eighty carcasses of beef, and six hundred muttons, GARDENS. #31 - As to the produce of a garden, every middled-aged person of observation may perceive, within his own memory, both in town and country, how vastly the consumption of vegetables is increased. Green stalls in cities now support multitudes in a comfortable state, while gardeners get for- tunes. Every decent labourer also has his garden, which is half his support, as well as his delight ; and common farmers provide plenty of beans, peas, and greens, for their hinds to eat with their bacon; and those few that do not are despised for their sordid parsimony, and looked upon as regardless of the welfare of their dependents. Potatoes have prevailed in this little district, by means of premiums, within these twenty years only, and are much esteemed here now by the poor, who would scarce have ventured to taste them in the last reign. Our Saxon ancestors certainly had some sort of cabbage, because they call the month of February sprout-cale ; but long after their days the cultivation of gardens was litle attended to. The religious, being men of leisure, and keep- ing up a constant correspondence with Italy, were the first people among us who had gardens and fruit-trees in any perfection, within the walls of their abbeys* and priories. The barons neglected every pursuit that did not lead to war, or tend to the pleasure of the chase. It was not till gentlemen took up the study of horticulture themselves that the knowledge of gardening made such hasty advances. Lord Cobham, Lord Ta, and Mr. Waller, of Beaconsfield, were some of the first people of rank that pro- moted the elegant science of ornamenting, without despis- ing the superintendence of the kitchen quarters and fruit walls. A remark made by the excellent Mr. Ray in his Tour of Europe, at once surprises us, and corroborates what has been advanced above ; for we find him observing, so late as his days, that “the Italians use several herbs for sallets, which are not yet, or have not been but lately used in England, viz. * “In monasteries, the lamp of knowledge continued to burn, however dimly. In them, men of business were formed for the state. The art of writing was cultivated by the monks; they were the only proficients in mechanics, gardening, and architecture.”—See Datrympie’s Annals of Scotland. 232 ECHOES. sellert (celery), which is nothing else but the sweet small- age, the young shoots whereof, with a little of the head of the root cut off, they eat raw with oil and pepper.” And further, he adds, “curled endive blanched is much used beyond seas, and for a raw sallet, seemed to excel lettuce itself.’ Now this journey was undertaken no longer ago than in the year 1663. ‘ LETTER LXXX. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Feb. 12, 1778 “ Forté puer, comitum seductus ab agmine fido, Dixerat, ecquis adest? et, adest, responderat echo. Hic stupet; utque aciem partes divisit in omnes; Voce, veni, clamat magna. Vocat illa vocantem.” Dear S1r,—In a district so diversified as this, so full of hollow vales and hanging woods, it is no wonder that echoes should abound. Many we have discovered, that return the cry of a pack of dogs, the notes of a hunting horn, a tunable ring of bells, or the melody of birds, very agreeably ; but we were still at a loss for a polysyllabical articulate echo, till a young gentleman, who had parted from his company in a summer evening walk, and was calling after them, stumbled upon a very curious one in a spot where it might least be expected. At first he was much surprised, and could not be persuaded but that he was mocked by some boys; but, repeating his trials in several languages, and finding his respondent to be a very adroit polyglot, he then discerned the deception. This echo, in an evening before rural noises cease, would repeat ten syllables most articulately and distinctly, especially if quick dactyls were chosen. The last syllables of “ Tityre, tu patule recubans —— were as audibly and intelligibly returned as the first; and ECHOES. 233 there is no doubt, could trial have been made, but that at midnight, when the air is very elastic, and a dead stillness reyails, one or two syllables more might have been obtained ; but the distance rendered so late an experiment very inconvenient. Quick dactyls, we observed, succeeded best ; for when we came to try its powers in slow, heavy, embarrassed spondees of the same number of syllables, . ” * Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens we could perceive a return of but four or five. All echoes have some one place to which they are returned stronger and more distinct than to any other; and that is always the place that lies at right angles with the object of repercussion, and is not too near, nor too far off. Buildings, or naked rocks, re-echo much more articulately than hanging woods or vales; because, in the latter, the voice is as it were entangled, and embarrassed in the covert, and weakened in the rebound. The true object of this echo, as we found by various experiments, is the stone-built, tiled hop-kiln in Gally Lane, which measures in front 40 feet, and from the ground to the eayes 12 feet. The true centrum phonicum, or just distance, is one particular spot in the King’s Field, in the path to Norehill, on the very brink of the steep balk above the hollow cart-way. In this case, there is no choice of distance ; but the path, by mere contingency, happens to be the lucky, the identical spot, because the ground rises or falls so imme- diately, 1f the speaker either retires or advances, that his mouth would at once be above or below the object. We measured this polysyllabical echo with great exact- ness, and found the distance to fall very short of Dr. Plot’s rule for distant articulation ; for the Doctor, in his Histor of Oxfordshire, allows 120 feet for the return of each syllable distinctly ; hence this echo, which gives ten distinct syllables, ought to measure 400 yards, or 120 feet to each syllable ; whereas our distance is only 258 yards, or near 75 feet to each syllable. Thus our measure falls short of the Doctur’s as five to eight ; but then it must be acknowledged, that this candid philosopher was convinced afterwards, that some 234 ECHOES. latitude must be admitted of in the distance of echoes according to time and place. When experiments of this sort are making, it should always be remembered, that weather and the time of day have a vast influence on an echo; for a dull, heavy, moist air deadens and clogs the sound; and hot sunshine renders the air thin and weak, and deprives it of all its springmess; and a ruffling wind quite defeats the whole. In a still, clear dewy evening, the air is most elastic; and perhaps the later the hour the more so. Echo has always been so amusing to the imagination, that the poets have personified her; and in their hands she has been the occasion of many a beautiful fiction. Nor need the gravest man be ashamed to appear taken with such a pheno- menon, since it may become the subject of philosophical or mathematical inquiries. One should have imagined that echoes, if not entertaiming, must at least have been harmless and inoffensive: yet Virgil advances a strange notion, that they are injurious to bees. After enumerating some probable and reasonable annoy- ances, such as prudent owners would wish far removed from their bee-gardens, he adds, “ Aut ubi concava pulsu Saxa sonant, vocisque offensa resultat imago.” Or where the hollow rocks emit a sound, And echoed voices from the cliffs rebound. This wild and fanciful assertion will hardly be admitted by the philosophers of these days, especially as they all now seem agreed that insects are not furnished with any organs _ of hearing at all.* But if it should be urged, that, though they cannot hear, yet perhaps they may feel the repercussion of sounds, I grant it 1s possible they may. Yet that these impressions are distasteful or hurtful I deny, because bees, in good summers, thrive well in my outlet, where the echoes are very ‘strong; for this village is another Anathoth, a * Bees certainly utter a murmuring sound when their hives have been tapped in the still of the evening as I have frequently ascertained. The chirp. ing of the house-cricket is probably to induce the female to come to it—Ep. ECHOES. 235 place of responses, or echoes. Besides, it does not appear from experiment that bees are in any way capable of being affected by sounds: for I have often tried my own with a large speaking trumpet held close to their hives, and with such an exertion of voice as would have hailed a ship at the distance of a mile, and still these insects pursued their various employments undisturbed, and without showing the least sensibility or resentment. Some time since its discovery, this echo is become totally silent, the object or hop-kiin remains: nor is there any mystery in this defect, for the field between is planted as a hop-garden, and the voice of the speaker is totally absorbed and lost among the poles and entangled foliage of the hops. And when the poles are removed in autumn, the disappoint- ment is the same; because a tall quick-set hedge, nurtured up for the purpose of shelter to the hop-ground, entirely interrupts the impulse and repercussion of the voice: so that, till those obstructions are removed, no more of its garrulity can be expected. Should any gentleman of fortune think an echo in his park or outlet a pleasant incident, he might build one at little or no expense. For, whenever he had occasion for a new barn, stable, dog-kennel, or the like structure, it would be only needful to erect this building on the gentle declivity of a hill, with a like rising opposite to it, at a few hundred yards distance; and perhaps success might be the easier insured could some canal, lake or stream, intervene. From a seat at the phonic centre, he and his friends might amuse themselves sometimes of an evening with the prattle of this loquacious nymph; of whose complacency and decent reserve, more may be said than can with truth of every individual of her sex; since she is “ Quee nec reticere loquenti, Nec prior ipsa loqui, didicit resonabilis echo.” The vocal echo ne’er withholds reply, But ne’er intrudes. P.S. The classic reader will, I trust, pardon the following 1ovely quotation, so finely describing echoes, and so poetically accounting for their causes from popular superstition. 236 ECHOES. “ Que bené quom videas, rationem reddere possi Tute tibi atque aliis, quo pacto per loca sola Saxa pareis formas verborum ex ordine reddant, Palanteis comites quom monteis inter opacos Querimus, et magn dispersos voce ciemus. Sex etiam, aut septem loca vidi reddere voces Unam quom jaceres: ita colles collibus ipsis Verba repulsantes iterabant dicta referre. Hee loca capripedes Satyros, Nymphasque tenere Finitimi fingunt, et Faunos esse loquuntur ; Quorum noctivago strepitu, ludoque jocanti Adfirmant volgo taciturna silentia rumpi. Chordarumque sonos fieri, dulceisque querelas, Tibia quas fundit digitis pulsata canentum ; Et genus agricoliim laté sentiscere, qaom Pan Pinea semiferi capitis velamina quassans, Unco spe labro calamos percurrit hianteis, Fistula silvestrem ne cesset fundere musam.” Lucretius, lib. iv. 1. 57, This shows thee why, whilst men, through caves and groves, Call their lost friends, or mourn unhappy loves, The pitying rocks, the groaning caves return Their sad complaints again, and seem to mourn: This all observe, and I myself have known Both rocks and hills return six words for one: The dancing words from hill to hill rebound, They all receive, and all restore the sound: The vulgar and the neighbours think, and tell, That there the Nymphs and Fauns, and Satyrs dwell: And that their wanton sport, their loud delight, Breaks through the quiet silence of the night: Their music’s softest airs fill all the plains, And mighty Pan delights the list’‘ning swains: ‘The goat-faced Pan, whose flocks securely feed ; With long-hung lip he blows his oaken reed: The horned, the half-beast god, when brisk and gay, With pine-leaves crowned, provokes the swains to play. WIFT. THE S SWI1rTSs. 237 LETTER LXXXI. TO THE SAME. SerpornE, May 13, 1778, Dear Str,—Among the many singularities attending those amusing birds, the swifts, | am now confirmed in the opinion that we have every year the same number of pairs invariably; at least the result of my inquiry has been exactly the same for a long time past. The swallows and martins are so numerous, and so widely distributed over the village, that it - is hardly possible to recount them; while the swifts, though they do not all build im the church, yet so frequently haunt it, and play and rendezvous round it, that they are easily erumerated. The number that I constantly find are eight pairs, about half of which reside in the church, and the rest in some of the lowest and meanest thatched cottages. Now, as these eight pairs—allowance being made for accidents— breed yearly eight pairs more, what becomes annually of this increase ? and what determines, every spring, which pairs shall visit us, and re-occupy their ancient haunts ? * Ever since I have attended to the subject of ornithology, I have always supposed that the sudden reverse of affection, that strange dvtiorépyn, which immediately succeeds in the feathered kind to the most passionate fondness, is the occa- sion of an equal dispersion of birds over the face of the earth. Without this provision, one favourite district would be crowded with inhabitants, while others would be destitute and forsaken. But the parent birds seem to maintain a jealous superiority, and to oblige the young to seek for new abodes; and the rivalry of the males in many kinds prevents their crowding the one on the other. Whe- ther the swallows and house-martins return in the same exact number annuaily is not easy to say, for reasons given * Swifts, swallows, and martins are perhaps, from their rapid flight, less preyed upon than any other small birds. Numbers of them undoubtedly perish during the progress of their two annual migrations.x—Ep. 238 BOTANY: above; but it is apparent, as I have remarked before in my Aonographies, that the numbers returning bear no -nanner of proportion to the numbers retiring. LETTER LXXXII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, June 2, 1778. Dear S1r,—The standing objection to botany has always been, that it is a pursuit that amuses the fancy and exercises the memory, without improving the mind, or advancing any real knowledge ; and, where the science is carried no farther than a mere systematic classification, the charge is but tvo true. But the botanist that is desirous of wiping off this aspersion, should be by no means content with a list of names; he should study plants philosophically, should inves- tigate the laws of vegetation, should examine the powers and virtues of efficacious herbs, should promote their cultivation, and graft the gardener, the planter, and the husbandman on the phytologist. Not that system is by any means to be thrown aside—without system the field of Nature would be a pathless wilderness—but system should be subservient to, not the main object of, pursuit. Vegetation is highly worthy of our attention, and in itself is of the utmost consequence to mankind, and productive of many of the greatest comforts and elegancies of life. To piants we owe timber, bread, beer, honey, wine, oil, linen, cotton, &¢c.—what not only strengthens our hearts, and exhilarates our spirits, but what secures us from inclemencies of weather, and adorns our persons. Man, in his true state of nature, seems to be subsisted by spontaneous vegetation ; in middle climes, where grasses prevail, he mixes some animal food with the produce of the field and garcen: and it is towards the polar extremes only, that, like his kindred bears anc. wolves, he gorges himself with flesh alone, and is driven to what hunger has never been known to compel the very beasts—to prey upon his own species.* * See the late voyages to the South Seas, BOTANY OF SELBORNE. 239 The productions of vegetation have had a vast influence - on the commerce of nations, and have been the great pro- moters of navigat'on, as may be seen in the articles of sugar, tea, tobacco, opium, ginseng, betel, pepper, &c. As every elimate has its peculiar produce, our natural wants bring a mutual intercourse: so that by means of trade, each distant part is supplied with the growth of every latitude. But, without the knowledge of plants and their culture, we must have been content with our hips and haws, without enjoying the delicate fruits of India, and the salutiferous drugs of Pern. Instead of examining the minute distinctions of every various species of each obscure genus, the botanist shoula endeavour to make himself acquainted with those that are useful. You shall see a man readily ascertain every herb of the field, yet hardly know wheat from barley, or at least one sort of wheat or barley from another. But of all sorts of vegetation the grasses seem to be most neglected ; neither the farmer nor the grazier seem to distin- guish the annual from the perennial,the hardy from the tender, nor the succulent and nutritive from the dry and juiceless. The study of grasses would be of great consequence to a northerly and grazing kingdom. The botanist that could improve the sward of the district where he lived, would be an useful member of society : to raise a thick turf on a naked soil, would be worth volumes of systematic knowledge ; and he would be the best commonwealth’s man that could occa- sion the growth of “two blades of grass where one alone was seen before.” LETTER LXXXIII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, July 3, 1778 Dear Str,—In a district so diversified with such a variety of hill and dale, aspects and soils, 1t is no wonder that great choice of plants should be found. Chalks, clays, sands, sheep-walks and downs, bogs, heaths, woodlands, and cham- 240 BOTANY OF SELBORNE, - paign fields, cannot but furnish an ample flora. The deep rocky lanes abound with jilices, and the pastures and moist woods with fungi. If in any branch of botany we may seem to be wanting, it must be in the large aquatic plants, which are not to be expected on a spot far removed from rivers, and lying up amidst the hill-country at the spring-heads. To enumerate all the plants that have been discovered within our limits, would be a needless work; but a short lst of the more rare, and the spots where they are to be found, may neither be unacceptable nor unentertaining. Helleborus fotidus, stinking hellebore, bear’s-foot, or setterwort—all over the Highwood and Coneycroft-hanger ; this continues a great branching plant the winter through, blossoming about January, and is very ornamental in shady walks and shrubberies. The good women give the leaves powdered to children troubled with worms ; but it is a violent remedy, and ought to be administered with caution. Helleborus viridis, green hellebore—in the deep stony lane, on the left hand just before the turning to Norton farm, and at the top of Middle Dorton under the edge; this plant dies aown to the ground early in autumn, and springs again about February, flowering almost as soon as it appears above ground. Vaccinium oxycoccus, creeping bilberries, or cranberries— in the bogs of Bin’s pond; Vaccinium myrtillus, whortle, or bilberries—on the dry hillocks of Wolmer Forest ; Drosera rotundifolia, round-leaved sundew—in the bogs of Bin’s-pond ; ve Drosera longifolia,* long-leaved sundew—in the bogs of Bin’s-pond. Comarum palustre, purple comarum, or marsh cinque-foil —in the bogs of Bin’s-pond. Hypericum androsemum, Tutsan, St. John’s wort—in the stony, hollow lanes ; Vinea minor, less periwinkle—in Selborne-hanger and Shrub-wood ; Monatropa hypopithys, yellow monotropa, or bird’s-nest— in Selborne-hanger under the shady beeches, to whose roots it seems to be parasitical—at the north-west end of the Hanger ; * Shou:d this not have been Drosera Anglica?—W. JS VERNAL AND AUTUMNAL CROCUS. 241 Ohlora perfoliata, Blackstonia perfoliata, Hudsoni, perfo- liated yellow-wort—on the banks in the King’s Field; Paris quadrifolia, herb Paris, true love, or one-berry— in the Church-litten coppice ; Chrysosplenium oppositifolium, opposite golden saxifrage —in the dark and rocky hollow lanes ; Gentiana amarella, autumnal gentian, or fellwort—on the Zig-zag and Hanger ; Lathrea squammaria,tooth-wort—in the Church-litten cop- pice, under some hazels near the foot-bridge, in Trimming’s garden hedge, and on the dry wall opposite Grange-yard ; Dipsacus pilosus, small teasel—in the Short and Long Lith ; Lathyrus sylvestris, narrow-leaved, or wild lathyrus—in the bushes at the foot of the Short Lith, near the path ; Ophrys spiralis, ladies’ traces—in the Long Lith, anc towards the south corner of the common ; Ophrys nidus avis, bird’s nest ophrys—in the Long Lith, under the shady beeches among the dead leaves, in Great Dorton among the bushes, and on the Hanger plentifully ; Serapias latifolia, helleborine—in the Highwood under the shady beeches ; Daphne laureola, spurge-laurel—in Selborne-hanger and the High-wood ; Daphne mezereum, the mezereon—in Selborne-hanger, among the shrubs at the south-east end, above the cottages ; Lycoperdon tuber, truffles—in the Hanger and High-wood ; Sambucus ebulus, dwarf-elder, wal-wort, or dane-wort— among the rubbish and ruined foundations of the Priory. Of all the propensities of plants, none seem more strange than their different periods of blossoming. Some produce their flowers in the winter, or very first dawnings of spring ; many when the spring is established; some at midsummer, and some not till autumn. When we see the helleborus Setidus and helleborus niger blowing at Christmas, the helle- borus hyemalis in January, and the helleborus viridis as soon as ever it emerges out of the ground, we do not wonder, because they are kindred plants that we expect should keep pace the one with the other; but other congenerous vege- tables differ so widely in their time of flowering, that we cannot but admire. I shall only instance at present in the R 242 FLIGHT OF BIRDS crocus sativus, the vernal and the autumnal crocus, which have such an affinity, that the best botanists only make them varieties of the same genus, of which there is only one species, not being able to discern any difference in the: eorolla, or in the internal structure. Yet the vernal crocus expands its flowers by the beginning of March at farthest, and often in very rigorous weather ; and cannot be retarded but by some violence offered; while the autumnal (the saffron) defies the influence of the. spring and summer, and will not blow till most plants begin to fade and run to seed. This circumstance is one of the wonders of the creation, little noticed because a common occurrence, yet ought not to be overlooked on account of its being familiar, since it would be as difficult to be explained as the most stupen- dous phenomenon in nature. “ Say, what impels, amidst surrounding snow Congeal’d, the crocus’ flamy bud to glow ? Say, what retards, amidst the summer’s blaze. Th’ autumnal bulb, till pale, declining days? The Gop of Seasons; whose pervading power Controls the sun, or sheds the fleecy shower: He bids each flower his quickening word obey, Or to each lingering bloom enjoins delay.” LETTER LXXXIV. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Aug. 7, 1778. “ Omnibus animalibus reliquis certus et uniusmodi, et in suo cuique genere incessus est; aves sole vario meatu feruntur, et in terra, et in dere.”--PxLin. ITist. Nat. lib. x. cap. 38. All other animals have a certain, definite, and peculiar gait; birds alone move in a varied manner both on the ground and in the air. Dear Srr,—A good ornithologist should be able to distin- guish birds by their air, as well as by their colours and shape, on the ground as well as on the wing, and in the bush as well as in the hand. For, though it must not be said that every species of birds has a manner peculiar to as ery ab res en =e i ” & 4 THe Kite, (Falco Milvus.) FLIGHT OF BIRDS. : TAR itself, yet there 1s somewhat in most genera at least that at first sight discriminates them, and enables a judicious observer to pronounce upon them with some certainty. Put a bird in motion, “ Et vera incessu patuit.’ And it is truly declared by its gait. Thus kites and buzzards sail round in circles,* with wings expanded and motionless; and it is from their glidmg manner that the former are still called, in the north of England, gleads, from the Saxon verb glidan, to glide. The kestrel, or windhover, has a peculiar mode of hanging in the air in one place, his wings all the while being briskly . agitated. Hen-harriers fly low over heaths or fields of corn, and beat the ground regularly like a pointer or setting dog. Owls move in a buoyant manner, as if lighter than the air; they seem to want ballast. There is a peculiarity belonging to ravens that must draw the attention even of the most incurious—they spend all their leisure time in striking and cuffing each other on the wing in a kind of playful skirmish ; and when they move from one place to another, frequently turn on their backs with a loud croak, and seem to be falling on the ground. When this odd gesture betides them, they are scratching themselves wita one foot, and thus lose the centre of gravity. Rooks some- times dive and tumble in a frolicsome manner; crows and daws swagger in their walk ; woodpeckers fly volatu wndoso, opening and closing their wings at every stroke, and so * This sailing round in circles, with wings expanded, and apparently quite motionless, is very curious and difficult to understand. A friend tells me that he has frequently watched the flight of the carrion crow (Vultur Aura), both in Africa and the West Indies, where, as in all tropical countries, they abound, and are invaluable. This bird soars at very great heights—at one moment it seems stationary, and at another it sweeps round in large circles without the smallest visible motion of the wings, the wind blowing steadily from one point. How are these circles completed against the wind without perceptible muscular exertion >—Eb. + “The hawk proineth,” says the new glossary to Chaucer; that 1s, pricketh or dresseth her feathers. From hence the word preen, a term in ornithology, when birds adjust and oil their feathers.—Eb. + In some parts of Scotland, that is said and believed to be the forerunner ef stormy weather.—W. J. R2 244 FLIGHT OF BIRDS. are always rising and falling in curves. All of this genus use their tails, which incline downwards, as a support while they run up trees. Parrots, like all other hooked-clawed birds, walk awkwardly, and make use of thew bill as a third foot, climbing and descending with ridiculous caution. All the galling parade and walk gracefully, and run nimbly ; but fly with diffieulty, with an impetuous whirring, and in a straight line. Magpies and jays flutter with powerless wings, and make no dispatch ; herons * seem encumbered with too much sail for their light bodies; but these vast hollow wings are necessary In carrying burdens, such as large fishes, and the like; pigeons, and particularly the sort called smiters, have a way of clashing their wings, the one against the other, over their backs, with a loud snap; another variety, called tumblers, turn themselves over in the air. Some birds have movements peculiar to the season of love; thus ring-doves, though strong and rapid at other times, yet, in the spring, hang about on the wing in a toying and playful manner; thus the cock-snipe, while breeding, forgetting his former flight, fans the air like a windhover; and the greenfinch, im particular, exhibits such languishing and faltering gestures as to appear like a wounded and dying bird; the kmg-fisher darts along like an arrow ; fern-owls, or goat-suckers, glance in the dusk over the tops of trees like a meteor; starlings, as it were, swim along, while missel-thrushes use a wild and desultory flight; swallows sweep over the surface of the ground and water, and distinguish themselves by rapid turns and quick evolutions ; swifts dash round in circles ; and the bank-martin moves with frequent vacillations like a butterfly. Most of the small birds fly by jerks, rising and falling as they advance. Most small birds hop; but wagtails and larks walk, moving their legs alternately. Sky-larks rise and fall perpendicularly as they sing ; woodlarks hang poised in the air; and tit-larks rise and fall in large curves, singing in their descent. ‘The white-throat uses odd jerks and gesticu- lations over the tops of hedges and bushes. All the duck kind waddle; divers and auks walk as if fettered, and stand * When herons sail over their nests, when disturbed from them, they use their long legs as rudders in making their gyrations. They sometimes only use one leg, at others both. In a straight flight the head rests between the vhoulders and the legs are extended together.—Eb. LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 245 erect on their tails; these are the compedes of Linnzus. Geese and cranes, and most wild fowls, move in figured flights, often changing their position. The secondary remiges of Tring, wild ducks, and some others, are very long, and give their wings, when in motion, an hooked appearance. Dabchicks, moor-hens, and coots,* fly erect, with their legs hanging down, and hardly make any dispatch ; the reason is plain, their wings are placed too forward out of the true centre of gravity ; as the legs of auks and divers are situated too backward. LETTER LXXXvV. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, Sept. 9, 1778. Dersar Str,—From the motion of birds, the transition is natural enough to their notes and language, of which I shall say something. Not that I would pretend to understand their language like a vizier, who, by the recital of a conver- sation which passed between two owls, reclaimed a sultan, before delighting in conquest and devastation ; but I would be thought only to mean, that many of the winged tribes have various sounds and voices adapted to express their various passions, wants, and feelings, such as anger, fear, love, hatred, hunger, and the like. All species are not equally eloquent ; some are copious and fluent, as it were, in their utterance, while others are confined to a few impor- tant sounds; no bird, like the fish { kind, is quite mute, though some are rather silent. The language of birds is * Coots have a very powerful flight when once on the wing and fly with their legs stretched out behind, acting the part of a tail, in the manner of the heron. In Scotland and the north of England, they arrive in the marshes and lakes to breed, and retire at the commencement of winter to the more southern coasts.— W. J. + See Spectator, vol. vii. No. 512. ¢ Fish are not always mute. I have not unfrequently heard tench utter sounds, and Mr. Thompson of Hull, says that some tench which he caught made a croaking like a frog for a full half hour, whilst in the basket on his eboulder.—Ep, 246 LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. ery ancient, and like other ancient modes of speech, very elliptical : little is said, but much is meant and understood.* The notes of the eagle kmd are shrill and piercmmg; and about the season of nidification much diversified, as I have been often assured by a curious observer of Nature, who long resided at Gibraltar, where eagles abound. The notes of our hawks much resemble those of the king of birds. Owls have very expressive notes; they hoot m a fine vocal sound, much resembling the vex humana, and reduable by a pitch-pipe to a musical key. This note seems to express complacency and rivalry among the males; they use also a quick call and a horrible scream; and can snore and hiss when they mean to menace. Mavens, besides their loud croak, can exert a deep and solemn note that makes the woods to echo; the amorous sound of a crowis strange and ridiculous; rooks, in the breeding season, attempt some- times, in the gaiety of their hearts, to sing, but with no great success ; the parrot kind have many modulations of voice, as appears by their aptitude to learn human sounds; doves coo in an amorous and mournful manner, and are emblems of despairing lovers; the woodpecker sets up a sort of loud and hearty laugh ; the fern-owl, or goat-sucker, from the dusk till day-break, serenades his mate with the clattering of castanets. All the tuneful passeres express their compla- cency by sweet modulations, and a variety of melody. ‘The swallow, as has been observed in a former letter, by a shrill alarm, bespeaks the attention of the other hirwndimnes, and bids them be aware that the hawk is at hand. Aquatic and gregarious birds, especially the nocturnal, that shift their quarters in the dark, are very noisy and loquacious; as cranes, wild-geese, wild-ducks, and the like: their perpetual clamour prevents them from dispersing and losmg their companions. ; In so extensive a subject, sketches and outlines are as much as can be expected: forit would be endless to instance in all the infinite variety of the feathered nation. We shall, therefore, confine the remainder of this letter to the few domestic fowls of our yards, which are most known, and, * The call of birds that fly in families, as the tit-mice-jays, &c., when they hove been separated and want to find each other, is very interesting—Eb. - LANGUAGE OF FOWLS. 247 therefore, best understood. At first,—the peacock, with his gorgeous train, demands our attention; but, like most of the gaudy birds, his notes are grating and shocking to the ear: the yelling of cats. and the braying of an ass, are not more disgustful. The voice of the goose is trumpet-like, and clanking ; and once saved the Capitol at Rome, as grave historians assert: the hiss also of the gander is formidable, and full of menace, and “ protective of his young.” Among ducks, the sexual distinction of voice is remarkable; for, while the quack of the female is loud and sonorous, the voice of the drake is inward, and harsh, and feeble, and scarce discernible. The cock-turkey struts and gobbles to his mistress in a most uncouth manner ; he hath also a pert and petulant note when he attacks his adversary. When a hen- turkey leads forth her young brood, she keeps a watchful eye ; and if a bird of prey appear, though ever so nigh in the air, the careful mother announces the enemy with a little inward moan, and watches him with a steady and attentive look; but, if he approach, her note becomes earnest and alarming, and her outcries are redoubled. No inhabitants of a yard seem possessed of such a variety of expression, and so copious a language, as common poultry. Take a chicken of four or five days old, and hold it up to a window where there are flies, and it will immediately seize its prey with little twittermgs of complacency; but if you tender it a wasp or a bee, at once its note becomes harsh and expressive of disapprobation, and a sense of danger. When a pullet is ready to lay, she intimates the event by a ‘hie and easy soft note. Of all the occurrences of their ife, that of layimg seems to be the most important ; for, no sooner has a hen disburdened herself, than she rushes forth with a clamorous kind of joy, which the cock and the rest of his mistresses immediately adopt. The tumult is not confined to the family concerned, but catches from yard to — yard, and spreads to every homestead within hearing, till at last the whole village is im an uproar. As soon as a hen becomes a mother, her new relation demands a new language; she then runs clucking and screaming about, and seems -agitated as if possessed. The father of the flock has also a considerable vocabulary ; if he finds food, he calls a favourite concubine to partake; and if a bird of prey passes bver, with 248 HELIOTROPES. a warning voice he bids his family beware. Tre gaiiant chanticleer has, at command, his amorous phrases, and his terms of defiance. But the sound by which he is best known is his crowing: by this he has been distinguished in ail ages as the countryman’s clock or larum—as the watchman that proclaims the divisions of the night. Thus the poet elegantly styles him “ The crested cock, whose clarion sounds The silent hours.” A neighbouring gentleman, one summer, had lost most of his chickens by a sparrow-hawk, that came gliding down between a fagot pile and the end of his house to the place where the coops stood. The owner, inwardly vexed to see his flock thus diminishing, hung a setting net adroitly between the pile and the house, into which the caitiff dashed, and was entangled. Resentment suggested the law of retali- ation; he therefore clinped the hawk’s wings, cut off his talons, and, fixing a cork on his bill, threw him down among the brood-hens. Imagination cannot paint the scene that ensued ; the expressions that fear, rage, and revenge inspired, were new, or at least such as had been unnoticed before. The exasperated matrons upbraided—they execrated—they insulted—they triumphed. In a word, they never desisted from buffeting their adversary till they had torn him in a hundred pieces. LETTER LXXXYVI. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE. - Monstrent * * * * * * Quid tanttiim Oceano properent se tingere soles Hyberni; vel que tardis mora noctibus obstet.” They show * * * * * * Why winter-suns so rapidly descend, And what delays the tardy nights extend. GENTLEMEN who have outlets might contrive to make orna- ment subservient to utility ; a pleasing eye-trap might also SPARROW-HAWE. 4 THE HELIOTROPES. 249 contribute to promote science; an obelisk in a garden or park might be both an embellishment and an heliotrope. Any person that is curious, and enjoys the advantage of a good horizon, might, with little trouble, make two helio- tropes, the one for the winter, the other for the summer solstice ; and these two erections might be constructed with very little expense; for two pieces of timber frame-work, about ten or twelve feet high, and four feet broad at the base, and close lined with plank, would answer the purpose. The erection for the former should, if possible, be placed within sight of some window in the common sitting parlour ; because men, at that dead season of the year, are usually within doors at the close of the day; while that of the latter might be fixed for any given spot in the garden or outlet, whence the owner might contemplate, in a fine summer’s evening, the utmost extent that the sun makes to the north- ward at the season of the longest days. Now nothing would be necessary but to place these two objects with so much exactness, that the westerly limb of the sun, at setting, might but just clear the winter heliotrope to the west of it, on the shortest day, and that the whole disc of the sun, at the longest day, might exactly, at setting, also clear the summer heliotrope to the north of it. By this simple expedient, it would soon appear that there is no such thing, strictly speaking, as a solstice; for, from the shortest day, the owner would, every clear evening, see the disc advancing, at its setting, to the westward of the object; and, from the longest day, observe the sun retiring backwards every evening, at its setting, towards the object westward, till, in a few nights, it would set quite behind it, and so by degrees to the west of it ; for when the sun comes near the summer solstice, the whole disc of it would at first set behind the object: after a time, the northern limb would first appear, and so every night gradually more, till at length the whole diameter would set northward of it for about three nights ; but, on the middle night of the three, sensibly more remote than the former or following. When beginning its recess from the summer tropic, it would continue more and more to be hidden every night, till at length it would descend quite behind the object again ; and so nightly more - and more to the westward. 250 HILLS. LETTER LXXXVII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE. <4 Mugire videbis Sub pedibus terram, et descendere montibus ornos.” Wuen I was boy, I used to read, with astonishment ana implicit assent, accounts in Baker’s Chronicle of walking hills and travelling mountains. John Philips, in his Cyder, alludes to the credit that was given to such stories, with a delicate but quaint vein of humour, peculiar to the author of the Splendid Shilling : “T-nor advise, nor reprehend, the choice Of Marcley Hill; the apple no where finds A kinder mould: yet ’tis unsafe to trust Deceitful ground : who knows but that, once more, This mount may journey, and, his present site Forsaking, to thy neighbour’s bounds transfer Thy goodly plants, affording matter strange For law debates !” But, when I came to consider better, I began to suspect that, though our hills may never have journeyed far, yet that the ends of many of them have slipped and fallen away at distant periods, leaving the cliffs bare and abrupt. This seems to have been the case with Nore and Whetham Hills, and especially with the ridge between Harteley Park and Ward-le-ham, where the ground has slid into vast swellings and furrows, and lies still in such romantic con- fusion as cannot be accounted for from any other cause. A strange event, that happened not long since, justifies our suspicions ; which, though it befel not within the limits of this parish, yet as it was within the hundred of Selborne, and as the circumstances were singular, may fairly claim a place in a work of this nature. | The months of January and February, m the year 1774, were remarkable for great melting snows and vast gluts of FALL OF A CLIFF. 253 | rain; so that, by the end of the latter month, the land- springs, or levants, began to prevail, and to be near as high as in the memorable winter of 1764. The beginning of March also went on in the same tenor, when, in the night between the 8th and 9th of that month, a considerable part of the great woody hanger at Hawkley was torn from its place, and fell down, leaving a high free-stone cliff naked and bare, and resembling the steep side of a chalk pit. It appears that this huge fragment, being, perhaps, sapped and undermined by waters, foundered, and was ingulphed, gomg down in a perpendicular direction; for a gate, which stood in the field on the top of the hill, after smking with its posts for thirty or forty feet, remained in so true and upright a position, as to open and shut with great exactness, just as in its first situation. Several oaks also are still standing, and in a state of vegetation, after taking the same desperate leap. That great part of this prodigious mass was absorbed in some gulf below, is plain also from the mclining ground at the bottom of the hill, which is free and unencumbered, but would have been buried in heaps of rubbish, had the fragment parted and fallen forward. About a hundred yards from the foot of this hanging coppice, stood a cottage by the side of a lane ; and two hundred yards lower, on the other side of the lane, was a farm-house, in which lived a labourer and his family; and just by, a stout new barn. The cottage was inhabited by an old woman and her son, and his wife. These people, in the evening, which was ver dark and tempestuous, observed that the brick floors of their kitchens began to heave and part, and that the walls seemed to open, and the roofs to crack; but they all agree that no tremor of the ground, indicating an earthquake, was ever felt, only that the wind continued to make a most tre- mendous roaring in the woods and hangers. The miserable inhabitants, not daring to go to bed, remained in the utmost solicitude and confusion, expecting every moment to be buried under the ruins of their shattered edifices. When daylight came, they were at leisure to contemplate the devas- cations of the night. They then found that a deep rift, or chasm, had opened under their houses, and torn them, as it were, in two, and that one end of the barn had suffered in a similar manner: that a pond near the cottage had under- 252 FALL OF A CLIFF. gone a strange reverse, becoming deep at the shallow end, and so vice versa: that many large oaks were removed out of their perpendicular, some thrown down, and some fallen into the heads of neighbouring trees; and that a gate was thrust forward, with its hedge, full six feet, so as to require a new track to be made to it. From the foot of the cliff, the general course of the ground, which is pasture, inclines in a moderate descent for half a mile, and is interspersed with some hillocks, which were rifted in every direction, as well towards the great woody hanger as from it. In the first pasture the deep clefts began, and, running across the Jane and under the buildings, made such vast shelves that the road was impassable for some time; and so over to an arable field on the other side, which was strangely torn and disordered. The second pasture field, being more soft and springy, was protruded forward without many fissures in the turf, which was raised in long ridges resembling graves, lying at right angles to the motion. At the bottom of this enclosure, the soil and turf rose many feet against the bodies of some oaks that obstructed their further course, and terminated this awful commotion. The perpendicular height of the precipice, in general, is twenty-three yards; the length of the lapse or slip, as seen from the fields below, one hundred and eighty-one: and a partial fall, concealed in the coppice, extends seventy yards more; so that the total length of this fragment that fell was two hundred and fifty-one yards. About fifty acres of land © suffered from this violent convulsion; two houses were entirely destroyed; one end of a new barn was left in ruins, the walls being cracked through the very stones that com- posed them; a hanging coppice was changed to a naked rock ; and some grass grounds and an arable field so broken and rifted by the chasms, as to be rendered for a time, neither fit for the plough, nor safe for pasturage, till con- siderable labour and expense had been bestowed in levelling the surface, and filling in the gaping fissures. FIELD-CRICKETS. 253 LETTER LXXXVIII. TO THE SAME. SELBORNE. Resonant arbusta,” The groves resound. THERE is a steep abrupt pasture field, interspersed with furze, close to the back of this village, well known by the name of the Short Lithe, consisting of a rocky dry soil, and inclining to the afternoon sun. This spot abounds with the gryllus campestris, or field-cricket ;* which, though frequent im these parts,is by no means a common insect in many other counties. As their cheerful summer cry cannot but draw the atten- tion of a naturalist, I have gone down to examine the economy of these grylli, and study their mode of life; but they are so shy and cautious that it is no easy matter to get a sight of them; for, feeling a person’s footsteps as he advances, they stop short in the midst of their song, and retire backward nimbly into their burrows, where they lurk till all suspicion of danger is over. At first we attempted to dig them out with a spade, but without any great success; for either we could not get, to the bottom of the hole, which often terminated under a great stone; or else in breaking up the ground, we inadvertently squeezed the poor insect to death. Out of one so bruised, we took a multitude of eggs, which were long and narrow, of a yellow colour, and covered with a very tough skin. By this accident we learned to distinguish the male from the female ; the former of which is shining black, with a golden stripe across his shoulders;t the latter is more dusky, more capacious about the abdomen, and carries a long sword-shaped weapon at her tail, which probably is the * Achela campestris.— F arricivs. “ The vaulting grasshopper of glossy green.” 254 FIELD-CRICKETS. instrument with which she deposits her eggs in craunies and safe receptacles. Where violent methods will not avail, more gentle means will often succeed ; and so it proved in the present case : for, though a spade be too boisterous and rough an implement, a pliant stalk of grass, gently insinuated into the caverns, will probe their windings to the bottom, and quickly bring out the inhabitant; and thus the humane inquirer may gratify his curiosity without injuring the object of it. It is remarkable, that though these insects are furnished with long legs behind, and brawny thighs for leaping, like grass- hoppers; yet when driven from their holes, they show no activity, but crawl along in a shiftless manner, so as easily to be taken: and again, though provided with a curious apparatus of wings, yet they never exert them when there seems to be the greatest occasion. The males only make that shrilling noise, perhaps out of rivalry and emulation, as is the case with many animals which exert some sprightly note during their breeding-time: it is raised by a brisk friction of one wing against the other. They are solitary beings, living singly male or female, each as it may happen ; ‘ but there must be a time when the sexes have some inter- course, and then the wings may be useful, perhaps during the hours of night. When the males meet they will fight fiercely, as I found by some which I put into the crevices of a dry stone wall, where I should have been glad to have made them settle: for though they seemed distressed by being taken out of their knowledge, yet the first that got possession of the chinks, would seize on any that were obtruded upon them, with a vast row of serrated fangs. With their strong jaws, toothed like the shears of a lobster’s claws, they perforate and round their curious regular cells, having no fore-claws to dig, like the mole-cricket. When taken in hand, I could not but wonder that they never offered to defend themselves, though armed with such formidable weapons. Of sach herbs as grow before the mouths of their burrows, they eat indiscriminately ; and on a little platform, which they make just by, they drop their dung ; and never in the day-time seem to stir more than two or three inches from home. Sitting in the entrance of their caverns, they chirp all night as well as day, from the middle. FIELD-CRICKETS. 253 of the month of May tc the middle of July; md in hot weather, when they are most vigorous, they maze the hills echo ; and in the still hours of darkness, may be heard +o a considerable distance. In the beginning of the season, their notes are more faint and inward; but become louder as the summer advances, and so die away again by degrees. Sounds do not always give us pleasure according to their sweetness and melody; nor do harsh sounds always displease. We are more apt to be captivated or disgusted with the associations which they promote, than with the notes them- selves. Thus the shrilling of the field-cricket, though sharp and stridulous, yet marvellously delights some hearers, filling their minds with a train of summer ideas of every thing that is rural, verdurous, and joyous. About the 10th of March, the crickets appear at the mouths of their cells, which they then open and bore, and shape very elegantly. All that ever 1 have seen at that season were in their pupa state, and had only the rudiments of wings lying under a skin, or coat, which must be cast before the insect can arrive at its perfect state:* from whence I should suppose that the old ones of last year do not always survive the winter. In August their holes begin to be obliterated, and the insects are seen no more till spring. Not many summers ago, I endeavoured to transplant a colony to the terrace in my garden, by boring deep holes in the sloping turf. The new inhabitants stayed some time, and fed and sung; but wandered away by degrees, and were heard at a farther distance every morning; so that it appears that on this emergeney, they made use of their wings in attempting to return to the spot from which they were taken. One of these crickets, when confined in a paper cage, and set in the sun, and supplied with plants moistened with water, will feed and thrive, and become so merry and loud as to be irksome in the same room where a person is sitting: if the plants are not wetted, it will die. * We have observed that they cast tuese skins in April, which are then seou lying at the mouths of their hoi2s. 256 UOUSE-CRICK#TS. LETTER LXXXIX. TO THE SAME. SELBORN#, “ Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth.” Mitton’s 71 Penseroso. Drar Srz,—While many other insects must be sought after in fie-ds, and woods, and waters, the gryllus domesticus, or house-cricket, resides altogether within our dwellings, intru- ding itself upon our notice whether we will or no. This species delights in new-built houses, being, like the spider, pleased with the moisture of the walls; and, besides, the softness of the mortar enables them to burrow and mine between the joints of the bricks or stones, and to open com- munications from one room to another. They are particularly fond of kitchens and bakers’ ovens, on account of their perpetual warmth. Tender insects that live abroad either enjoy only the short period of one summer, or else doze away the cold uncomfort- able months in profound slumbers ; but these, residing as it were in a torrid zone, are always alert and merry; a good Christmas fire is to them like the heats of the dog-days. Though they are frequently heard by day, yet is their natural time of motion only in the night. As soon as it grows dusk, the chirping increases, and they come running forth, and are from the size of a flea to that of their full stature. As one should suppose, from the burning atmosphere which they inhabit, they are a thirsty race, and show a great propensity for liquids, being found frequently drowned in pans of water, milk, broth, or the like. Whatever is moist they affect ; and, therefore, often gnaw holes in wet woollen stockings and aprons that are hung to the fire; they are the house- wife’s barometer, foretelling her when it will rain; and are prognostics. sometimes, she thinks, of ill or good luck ; of the death of a near relation, or the approach of an absent lover. By being the constant companions of her solitary hours, they — HOUSE-CRICKETS. O57 naturally become the objects of her superstition.* These crickets are not only very thirsty, but very voracious; for they will eat the scummings of pots, and yeast, salt, ana crumbs of bread, and any kitchen offal or sweepings. In the summer we have observed them to fiy, when it became dusk, out ot the windows, and over the neighbouring roofs. This feat of activity accounts for the sudden manner in which they often leave their haunts, as it does for the method by which they come to houses where they were not known before. It is remarkable that many sorts of insects seem never to use their wings but when they have a mind to shift their quarters, and settle new colonies. When in the air, they move volatu undoso, in waves, or curves, like wood- peckers, opening and shutting their wings at every stroke, and so are always rising or sinking. When they increase to a great degree, as they did once in the house where I am now writing, they become noisome pests, flying into the candles, and dashing into people’s faces ; but may be blasted and destroyed by gunpowder dis- charged into their crevices and crannies. In families, at such times, they are, like Pharaoh’s plague of frogs, “in their bed-chambers, and upon their beds, and in their ovens, and in their kneading-troughs.” + Their shrilling noise is occasioned by a brisk attrition of their wings. Cats catch hearth-crickets, and, playing with them as they do with mice, devour them. Crickets may be destroyed, like wasps, by phials half filled with beer, or any liquid, and set in their haunts ; for, being always eager to drink, they will crowd in till the bottles are full. * It is a common superstition in Dumfries-shire, that, if the crickets forsake a house which they have long inhabited, some evil will befall the family— generally the death of some member is portended. In like manner, the presence or return of this cheerful little insect is lucky, and portends some good to the family.—W. J. t Exod. viil, 3. 258 MOLE-CRICKRTS. LETTER XC. TO THE SAME. SELBURNE. How diversified are the modes of life, not only of incens gruous, but even of congenerous animals! and yet thei specific distinctions are not more various than their propen- sities. Thus, while the field-cricket delights in sunny, dry banks, and the house-cricket rejoices amidst the glowing heat of the kitchen hearth or oven, the gryllus gryllotalpa (the mole-cricket*) haunts moist meadows, and frequents the sides of ponds and banks of streams, performing all its functions in a swampy, wet soil. With a pair of fore-feet, curiously adapted to the purpose, it burrows and works under ground like the mole, raising a ridge as it proceeds, but seldom throwing up hillocks. As mole-crickets often infest garderis by the sides of canals, they are unwelcome guests to the gardener, raising up ridges in their subterraneous progress, and rendering the walks unsightly. If they take to the kitchen quarters, they occasion great damage among the plants and roots, by destroying whole beds of cabbages, young legumes, and flowers. When dug out, they seem very slow and helpless, and make no use of their wings by day; but at night they come abroad, and make long excursions, as I have been cone vinced by finding stragglers in a morning in improbable places. In fine weather, about the middle of April, and just at the close of day, they begin to solace themselves with a low, dull, jarring note, continued for a long time without interruption, and not unlike the chattering of the fern-owl, or goat-sucker, but more inward. About the beginning of May they lay their eggs, as I was once an eye-witness ; for a gardener, at a house where I was on a visit, happening to be mowing, on the 6th of that month, by the side of a canal, his scythe struck too deep, pared off a * Gryllotalpa vulgaris, in some places where abundant, does great damage to newly sown seed, particularly peas, beans, &c.—W. J. HIMANTOPUS. 259 large piece of turf, and laid open to view a curious scene of domestic economy :— “ Ingentem lato dedit ore fenestram : Apparet domus intus, et atria longa patescunt: Apparent peretralia.’ A yawning breach of monstrous size he made* The inmost house is now to sight display’d; The admitted light with sudden lustre falls On the long galleries and the splendid halls, There were many caverns and winding passages leading to a kind of chamber, neatly smoothed and rounded, and about the size of a moderate snuff-box. Within the secret nursery were deposited near an hundred eggs, of a dirty yellow colour, and enveloped in a tough skin ; but too lately excluded to contain any rudiments of young, being full of a viscous substance. The eggs lay but shallow, and within the influence of the sun, just under a little heap of fresh moved mould, like that which is raised by ants. When mole-crickets fly, they move cursu undoso, rising and fallmg in curves, like the other species mentioned before. In different parts of the kingdom people call them fen-crickets, churr-worms, and eve-churrs, all very apposite names. Anatomists, who have examined the intestines of these insects, astonish me with their accounts; for they say that, from the structure, position, and number of their stomachs, or maws, there seems to be good reason to suppose that this and the two former species ruminate, or chew the cud, like many quadrupeds ! LETTER XCI. TO THE SAME. SeLBorne, May 7, 1779. Ir is now more than forty years that I have paid some atten- tion to the ornithology of this district, without being able to exhaust the subject: new occurrences still arise as lcng as any inquiries are kept alive. s 2 = 260 HIMANTOPUS. In the last week of last month, five of those most rare birds, too uncommon to have obtained an English name, but known to naturalists by the terms of himantopus, or loripes, and charadrius himantopus were shot upon the verge of Frinsham Pond, a large lake belonging to the Bishop of Winchester, and lying between Wolmer Forest and the town of Farnham, in the county of Surrey. The pond-keeper says there were three brace in the flock; but that, after he haa satisfied his curiosity, he suffered the sixth to remain unmo- lested. One of these specimens I procured, and found the length of the legs to be so extraordinary, that, at first sight, one might have supposed the shanks had been fastened on to impose on the credulity of the beholder: they were legs in caricatura ; and had we seen such proportions on a Chi- nese or Japan screen, we should have made large allowances for the fancy of the draughtsman. These birds are of the plover family, and might, with propriety, be called the stilt- plovers.* Brisson, under that idea, gives them the apposite name of /’échasse. My specimen, when drawn, and stuffed with pepper, weighed only four ounces and a quarter, though the naked part of the thigh measured three inches and a half, and the legs four inches and a half. Hence we may safely assert, that these birds exhibit, weight for inches, incompar- ably the greatest length of legs of any known bird. The flamingo, for instance, is one of the most long-legged birds, and yet it bears no manner of proportion to the himantopus; for a cock flamingo weighs, at an average, about four pounds avoirdupois; and his legs and thighs measure usually about twenty inches. But four pounds are fifteen times and a fraction more than four ounces and a quarter; and if four ounces and a quarter have eight inches of legs, four pounds must have one hundred and twenty inches and a fraction of legs, viz. somewhat more than ten feet,—such a monstrous proportion as the world never saw! If you should try the experiment in still larger birds, the disparity would still merease. Jt must be matter of great curiosity to see the stilt-plover move; to observe how it can wield such a length of lever with such feeble muscles as the thighs seem to be * The stilted plover is a very rare bird in this country, and its appearance ia now allowed to be quite recidental.—Eb. TORTOISE. 261 furnished with. At best, one should expect it to be but a bad walker: but what adds to the wonder is, that it has no back toe. Now, without that steady prop to support its steps, it must be liable, in speculation, to perpetual vacil- lations, and seldom able to preserve the true centre of gravity. The old name of himantopus is taken from Pliny ; and, by an awkward metaphor, implies that the legs are as slender and pliant as if cut out of a thong of leather. Neither Willughby nor Ray, in all their curious researches, either at home or abroad, ever saw this bird. Mr. Pennant never met with it in all Great Britain, but observed it often in the cabinets of the curious at Paris. Hasselquist says, that it migrates to Egypt in the autumn; and a most accurate observer of nature has assured me, that he has found it on the banks of the streams in Andalusia. Our writers record it to have been found only twice in Great Britain. From all these relations it plainly appears, that these long-legged plovers are birds of South Europe, and rarely visit our island; and when they do, are wanderers and stragglers, and impelled to make so distant and northeraz an excursion, from motives or accidents, for which we are not able to account. One thing may fairly be deduced, that these birds come over to us from the Continent, since nobody can suppose that a species not noticed once in an age, and of such a remarkable make, can constantly breed unobserved in this kingdom. LETTER XCIL TO THE SAME. SELBORNE, April 21, 1780. Dear Srr,—The old Sussex tortoise, that I have mentioned to you so often, is become my property. I dug it out of its winter dormitory in March last, when it was enough awakened to express its resentments by hissing; and, packing it in a box with earth, carried it eighty miles in post-chaises. The rattle and hurry of the journey so perfectly roused it, that when I 262 TORTOISE. turned it out on a border, it walked twice down to the bottoth of my garden: however, in the evening, the weather being cold, it buried itself in the loose mould, and continues still concealed. As it will be under my eye, I shall now have an oppor- tunity of enlargimg my observations on its mode of life and propensities ; and perceive already, that, towards the time of coming forth, it opens a breathing-place in the ground near its head, requiring, I conclude, a freer respiration as it becomes more alive. This creature not only goes under the earth from the middle of November to the middle of April, but sleeps great part of summer; for it goes to bed, in the longest days, at four in the afternoon, and often does not stir in the morning till late. Besides, it retires to rest for every shower, and does not move at all in wet days.* When one reflects on the state of this strange being, it is a matter of wonder to find that Providence should bestow such a profusion of days, such a seeming waste of longevity, on a reptile that appears to relish it so little as to squamder more than two-thirds of its existence in a joyless stupor, and be lost to all sensation for months together in the profoundest of slumbers. While I was writing this letter, a moist and warm after- noon, with the thermometer at 50, brought forth troops of * In Mr. White’s unpublished MS.,I find the following notices of Timothy, the tortoise, for so Mr. White called it. “ March 17th.—Brought away Mrs. Snooke’s old tortoise, Timothy, which she valued very much, and had treated kindly for forty years. When dug out of its hybernaculum, it resented the insult by hissing. “ May 14th.—Timothy travelled about the garden. “ May 2nd.—Timothy eats. “ March 15th.—Timothy comes forth, and weighs 6 1b. 53 oz. “ June 4th.—Timothy took his usual ramble, and could not be confined within the limits of the garden. His pursuits, which seem of the amorous kind, transport him beyond the bounds of his usual gravity, “Sept. 17th.— When we call loudly through the speaking-trumpet to Timothy, he does not seem to regard the noise.” There are many other notices of Timothy, too long for insertion. He appears to have been weighed at certain times; to have been immersed in water to see if he was amphibious, and was ev‘dently much alarmed at finding himself out of his element, and there is a humorous and entertaining letter, which Mr. White composed for him, to Miss Becky Mulso, dated from his border under the fruit wall in 1784, and signed, “ Your sorrowful reptile Timothy.”—Epb, TORTOISE. 263 shell-snails ; and, at the same juncture, the tortoise heaved up the mould and put out its head; and the next morning came forth, as it were raised from the dead, and walked about till four in the afternoon. This was a curious coinci- dence—a very alusing occurrenee—to see such a similarity of feelings between two gepeotxor.—tfor so the Greeks call both the shell-snail and the tortoise. Summer birds are, this cold and backward spring, unusually late: I have seen but one swallow yet. This conformity with the weather convinces me more and more that they sleep in the winter. MORE PARTICULARS RESPECTING THE OLD FAMILY TORTOISE. Because we call this creature an abject reptile, we are tec apt to undervalue his abilities, and to depreciate his powers of instinct. Yet he is, as Mr. Pope says of his lord, “ Much too wise to walk into a well ;” and has so much discernment as not to fall down an haha, but to stop and withdraw from the brink with the readiest precaution. - Though he loves warm weather, he avoids the hot sun; because his thick shell, when once heated, would, as the poet says of solid armour, “scald with safety.’ He there- fore spends the more sultry hours under the umbrella of a large cabbage-leaf, or amidst the waving forests of an asparagus bed. | But as he avoids the heat in summer, so, in the decline of the year, he improves the faint autumnal beams by getting within the reflection of a fruit wall; and, though he never has read that planes inclining to the horizon receive a greater share of warmth,* he inclines his shell, by tilting it against the wall, to collect and admit every feeble ray. Pitiable seems the condition of this poor embarrassed * Severai years ago a book was written entitled, ® Fruit Walls improved 264 HONEY-BUZZARDS. reptile: to be cased in a suit of ponderous armour, which he cannot lay aside; to be imprisoned, as it were, within his own shell, must preclude, we should suppose, all activity and disposition for enterprise. Yet there’is a season of the year (usually the beginning of June) when his exertions are re- markable. He then walks on tiptoe, and is stirring by five inthe morning ; and, traversing the garden, examines eve wicket and interstice in the fences, through which he will escape if possible; and often has eluded the care of the gar- dener, and wandered to some distant field. The motives that impel him to undertake these rambles seem to be of the amorous kind. His fancy then becomes intent on sexual attachments, which transport him beyond his usual gravity, and induce him to forget for a time his ordinary solemn deportment. LETTER XCIIl. TO THOMAS PENNANT, ESQ. A parr of honey-buzzards, buteo apivorus, sive vespiworus, Raii, built them a large shallow nest, composed of twigs, and lined with dead beechen leaves, upon a tall slender beech near the middle of Selborne Hanger, in the summer of 1780. In the middle of the month of June, a bold boy climbed this tree, though standing on so steep and dizzy a situation, and brought down an egg, the only one in the nest, which had been set on for some time, and contained the embryo of a young bird. The egg was smaller, and not so round, as those of the common buzzard ; was dotted at each end with small red spots, and surrounded in the middle with a broad bloody zone. The hen bird was shot, and answered exactly to Mr. Ray’s description of that species; had a black cere, short thick legs, and a long tail. When on the wing, this species may be by inclining them to the horizon ;” in which the author has shown, by cal- cucation, that a muck greater number of the rays of the sun will fall on such walls than on those which are perpendicular’ Ture Honey BuzzaARD. SPARROW-HAWEKS. 265 easily distinguished from the common buzzard by its hawk- like appearance, small head, wings not so blunt, and longer tail. This specimen contained in its craw some limbs of frogs, and many grey snails without shells.* The irides of the eyes of this bird were of a beautiful bright yellow colour. About the 10th of July, in the same summer, a pair of sparrow-hawks bred in an old crow’s nest on a low beech in the same hanger; and as their brood, which was numerous, began to grow up, became so daring and ravenous, that they were a terror to all the dames in the village that had chick- eus or ducklings under their care. + THE MAGPIE. OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 309 Missel thrushes do not destroy the fruit in gardens like the other species of turdi, but feed on the berries of mis- seltoe, and in the spring on ivy berries, which then begin to ripen. In the summer, when their young become fledged, they leave neighbourhoods, and retire to sheep-walks and wild commons The magpies, when they have young, destroy the broods of missel thrushes, though the dams are fierce birds, and fight bold in defence of their nests. It is probably to avoid such insults, that this species of thrush, though wild at other times, delights to build near houses, and in frequented walks and gardens. WHITE. Of the truth of this I have been an eye-wituess, having seen the common thrush feeding on the shell-snail. In the very early part of this spring (1797), a bird of this species used to sit every morning on the top of some high elms close to my windows, and delight me with its charming song,* attracted thither, probably, by some ripe ivy berries that grew near the place. I have remarked something like the latter fact; for 1 remember, many years ago, seeing a pair of these birds fly up repeatedly and attack some larger bird, which I suppose dis- turbed their nest in my orchard, uttering, at the same time, violent shrieks.—Since writing the above, I have seen, more than once, a pair of these birds attack some magpies that had disturbed their nest, with great violence, and loud shrieks. Marxkwick. Povrttry.—Many creatures are endowed with a ready discernment to see what will turn to their own advantage and emolument; and often discover more sagacity than could be expected. Thus, my neighbour’s poultry watch fox waggons loaded with wheat, and, running after them, pick up a number of grains which are shaken from the sheaves by the agitation of the carriages. Thus, when my brother used to take down his gun to shoot sparrows, his cats would run out before him, to be ready to catch up the birds as they fell. *« . . . dew drops thick as early blossoms hung, And trembled as the minstrel sweetly sung.”—BLoomrietp. 810 CBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. The earnest and early propensity of the galline to roost on high is very observable ;* and discovers a strong dread impressed on their spirits respecting vermin that may annoy them on the ground during the hours of darkness. Hence poultry, if left to themselves and not housed, will perch the winter through on yew trees and fir trees ; and turkeys and guinea fowls, heavy as they are, get up into apple trees ; pheasants also, im woods, sleep on trees to avoid foxes ; while pea-fowls climb to the tops of the highest trees round their owner’s house for security, let the weather be ever so cold or blowing. Partridges, it is true, roost on the ground, not having the faculty of perching ; but then the same fear prevails in their minds; for, through apprehensions from polecats and stoats, they never trust themselves to coverts, but nestle together i in the midst of large fields, far removed from hedges and coppices, which they love to haunt in the day, and where, at that season, they can skulk more secure from the ravages of rapacious birds. As to ducks and geese, their awkward, splay, web- fect forbid them to settle on trees ;+ they therefore, 3 in the hours of darkness and danger, betake themselves to their own element, the water, where, amidst large lakes and pools, like ships riding at anchor, they float the whole night long in peace and security. WHITE. Guinea fowls not only roost on high, but in hard weather resort, even in the day-time, to the very tops of highest trees. t * Fowls that roost in trees are much later in laying their eggs than those which have been housed and kept warm. Fowls belonging to London bakers, and which roost over their ovens, are very early layers. Warmth, there- fore, seems to be necessary to the early production of eggs, and it might be worth inquiry whether those birds which are most exposed to cold do not. begin the process of incubation at a later period than those birds which affect. warmth. Pigeons are early breeders, and they are warmly housed.—Ep. + The Cape geese in Richmond Park not only settle on trees, but make their nests in the old oak pollards, and convey their young in safety to the ground by placing one at a time under one of their wings. When these geese made their nests on the ground of the island in the large pond in the park, the water-rats destroyed the eggs, which induced the birds to take to the trees near the side of the pond —Ep. t This, probably, is the reason why they lay their eggs so mtch later in Tue WILD DwucK. OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. BL Last winter, when the ground was covered with snow, I dis- covered all my guinea fowls, in the middle of the day, sitting on the highest boughs of some very tall elms, chattering and making a great clamour: I ordered them to be driven down, lest they should be frozen to death in so elevated a situation; but this was not effected without much difficulty, they being very unwilling to quit their lofty abode, notwithstanding one of them had its feet so much frozen, that we were obliged to kill it. JI know not how to account for this, unless it was occasioned by their aversion to the snow on the ground, they being birds that came originally from a hot climate.* Notwithstanding the awkward, splay, web-feet, as Mr. White cails them, of the duck genus, some of the foreign species have the power of settling on the boughs of trees, apparently with great ease; an instance of which IJ have seen in the Earl of Ashburnham’s menagerie, where the summer duck (anas sponsa) flew up and settled on the branch of an oak tree in my presence; but whether any of them roost on trees in the night, we are not informed by any author that I am acquainted with. I suppose not; but that, like the rest of the genus, they sleep on the water, where the birds of this genus are not always perfectly secure, as will appear from the following circumstances, which happened in this neighbourhood a few years since, as I was credibly informed. A female fox was found in the morning drowned in the same pond in which were several geese, and it was supposed, that in the night, the fox swam into the pond to devour the geese, but was attacked by the gander, which being the most owerful in its own element, buffeted the fox with its wings about the head till it was drowned. Marxkwick. Hen Parrriper.—a< hen partridge came out of a ditch, the year than the common fowl or even the pheasant, which latter, however, roosts in trees, but generally either in warm fir-trees, or in sheltered situations in woods.—Ep. * It is a beautiful arrangement of Providence that guinea-fowls, which are African birds, and deposit their eggs on the ground, shculd have the shells so hard that the common snakes of the country cannot break them. They may, indeed, remove some of them from the nest, but in order to make up for this deficiency, the guinea-fowl lays more eggs than any other bird.—Ep. 312 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. and ran along shivering with her wings, and crying out as if wounded and unable to get from us. While the dam acted this distress, the boy who attended me saw her brood, that was small and unable to fly, run for shelter into an old fox- earth under the bank. So wonderful a power is instinct.* WHITE. It is not uncommon to see an old partridge feign itself wounded, and run along on the ground fluttering and crying, before either dog or man, to draw them away from its help- less unfledged young ones. I have seen it often; and once. in particular, 1 saw a remarkable instance of the old bird’s solicitude to save its brood. As I was hunting with a young ointer, the dog ran on a brood of very small partridges ; the old bird cried, fluttered, and ran tumbling along, just before the dog’s nose, till she had drawn him to a considerable dis- tance, when she took wing and flew still farther off, but not out of the field: on this the dog returned to me, near which place the young ones lay concealed in the grass, which the old bird no sooner perceived, than she flew back again to us, settled just before the dog’s nose again, and, by rolling and tumbling about, drew off his attention from her young, and thus preserved her brood a second time. I have also seen, when a kite has been hovering over a covey of young par- tridges, the old birds fly up at the bird of prey, screaming and fighting with all their might, to preserve their brood. MarkwIck. A Hyprip Pueasant.—Lord Stawell sent me, from the great lodge in the Holt, a curious bird for my inspection. It was found by the spaniels of one of his keepers in a coppice, and shot on the wing. The shape, hair, and habit of the bird, and the scarlet ring round the eyes, agreed well with the appearance of a cock pheasant; but then the head and neck, and breast and belly, were of a glossy black; and * It is, no doubt, a wonderful instinct, and at the same time a proof how strongly Providence has implanted in animals the love of their young, which neither fear nor the natural love of self-preservation seems to lessen. Mr. Markwick’s remarks on the fact mentioned by Mr. White are highly interesting to every lover of nature —Ep, . Ma a — THE R&p-LEGGED PARTRIDGE. (Perdix rufus.) OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. ole though it weighed three pounds three ounces and a half,* the weight of a large full-grown cock pheasant, yet there was no sign of any spurs on the legs, as is usual with all grown cock pheasants, who have long ones. The legs and feet were naked of feathers, and therefore it could be nothing of the grouse kind. In the tail were no long, bending feathers, such as cock pheasants usually have, and are characteristic of the sex. The tail was much shorter than the tail of a hen pleasant, and blunt and square at the end. The back, wing- feathers, and tail, were all of a pale russet, curiously streaked, somewhat like the upper parts ofa hen partridge. I returned it with my verdict, that it was probably a spurious, or hybrid hen-bird, bred between a cock pheasant and some domestic fowl. When I came to talk with the keeper who brought it, he toid me that some pea-hens had been known last summer to haunt the coppices and coverts where this mule was found. Mr. Elmer, of Farnham, the famous game-painter, was em- ployed to take an exact copy of this curious bird. N.B. It ought to be mentioned, that some good judges have imagined this bird to have been a stray grouse or black-cock; it is, however, to be observed, that Mr. W. remarks, that its legs and feet were naked, whereas those of the grouse are feathered to the toes. WHITE. Mr. Latham observes, that “pea-hens, after they have done laying, sometimes assume the plumage of the male bird,” and has given a figure of the male-feathered pea-hen now to be seen in the Leverian Museum; and M. Salerne remarks, that “the hen pheasant, when she has done laying and sitting, will get the plumage of the male.” May not this hybrid pheasant, as Mr. White calls it, be a bird of this kind? that is, an old hen pheasant which has just begun to assume the plumage of the cock. MarkwIcxk. * Hen pheasants usually weigh only two pounds ten ounces. + See the account by John Hunter, in the Philosophical Transact. Art. xxx.1760. ‘‘ The subject of the account is a hen pheasant with the feathers of the cock. The author concludes, that it is most probable that all those hen pheasants which are found wild, and have the feathers of the cock, were formerly perfect hens, but that now they are changed with age, and perhaps by certain constitutional circumstances.” It appears also, that the hen, taking 314 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. Lanp-rart.—A man brought me a land-rail, or daker-hen, a bird so rare in this district that we seldom see more than one or two in a season, and these only in autumn. This is deemed a bird of passage by all the writers; yet, from its formation, seems to be poorly qualified for migration ; for its wmgs are short, and placed so forward, and out of the centre of gravity, that it flies in a very heavy and embarrassed manner, with its legs hanging down; and can hardly be sprung a second time, as it runs very fast, and seems to depend more on the swiftness of its feet than on its flying. When we came to draw it, we found the entrails so soft and tender, that in appearance they might have been dressed like the ropes of a woodcock. The craw, or crop, was small - and lank, containing a mucus; the gizzard thick and strong, and filled with small shell-snails, some whole, and many ground to pieces, through the attrition which is occasioned by the muscular force and motion of that intestine. We saw no gravels among the food; perhaps the shell snails might perform the functions of gravels or pebbles, and might grind one another. lLand-rails used to abound formerly, I remember, in the low, wet bean fields of Christian Malford, in North Wilts, and in the meadows near Paradise Gardens, at Oxford, where I have often heard them cry, crex, crex. The bird mentioned above weighed 7} oz., was fat and tender, and in flavour like the flesh of a woodcock. ‘The liver was very large and delicate. WHITE. Land-rails are more plentiful with us than in the neigh- bourhood of Selborne. I have found four brace in an after- noon, and a friend of mine lately shot nine in two adjoining fields; but I never saw them in any other season than the autumn. That it is a bird of passage* there can be little doubt, the plumage of the cock, is not confined to the pheasant alone ; it takes place also with the pea-hen, as may be seen in the specimen belonging to Lady Tynte, which was in the Leverian Museum. After many broods, this hen took much of the plumage of the cock, and also the fine train belonging to that bird. See also Montacu's Ornithological Dictionury, Art. Pheasant. Rev. J. Mitrorp. * The land-rail or corn-crake is a bird of passage, and a simmer visitor to this country. When in the neighbourhood of Swansea some years ago, I was assured by a gentleman residing near that place, that he discovered in a field THe Corn-CrAKE, oR LAND-RaAIL. (Ortygometra crex.) OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 313 though Mr. White thinks it poorly qualified for migration, on account of the wings being short, and not placed in the exact centre of gravity: how that may be I cannot say, but I know that its heavy sluggish flight is not owing to its inability of flying faster, for | have seen it fly very swiftly ; although in general its actions are sluggish. Its unwilling- ness to rise proceeds, I imagine, from its sluggish disposition, and its great timidity; for it will sometimes squat so close to the ground as to suffer itself to be taken up by the hand, rather than rise; and yet it will at times run very fast. What Mr. White remarks respecting the small shell-snails found in its gizzard, confirms my opiion, that it frequents corn fields, seed clover, and brakes or fern, more for the sake of snails, slugs, and other insects which abound in such places, than for the grain or seeds; and that it is entirely an insectivorous bird.* MarkwIck. Foop FoR THE Rine-pove.—One of my neighbours shot a ring-dove on an evening as it was returning from feed and going to roost. When his wife had picked and drawn it, she found its craw stuffed with the most nice and tender tops of turnips. These she washed and boiled, and so sat down to a choice and delicate plate of greens, culled and provided in this extraordinary manner. | Hence we may see that graminivorous birds, when grain fails, can subsist on the leaves of vegetables. There is reason to suppose that they would not long be healthy with- out; for turkeys, though corn-fed, delight in a variety of plants, such as cabbage, lettuce, endive, &¢c.; and poultry pick much grass; while geese live for months together on commons by grazing alone. “ Nought is useless made: On the barren heath The shepherd tends his flock, that daily crop Their verdant dinner from the mossy turf Sufficient: after them, the cackling goose, Close grazer, finds wherewith to ease her want,” Pauips’ Cyder. WHITE. near the sea a large congregation of these birds. The next day not one was to be found.—Eb. i * There is no doubt of its feeding much on grass seeds, which the length 316 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. , That many graminivorous birds feed also on the herbage, or leaves of plants, there can be no doubt; partridges and larks frequently feed on the green leaves of turnips, which give a peculiar flavour to their flesh, that is to me, very palatable; the flavour also of wild ducks and geese greatly depends on the nature of their food; and their flesh fre- quently contracts a rank unpleasant taste, from their having lately fed on strong marshy aquatic plants, as I suppose. That the leaves of vegetables are wholesome, and con- ducive to the health of birds, seems probable, for many people fat their ducks and turkeys with the leaves of lettuce chopped small. Marxwicxk. Hn-Harrirer.—A neighbouring gentleman sprung a pheasant in a wheat stubble, and shot at it; when, notwith- standing the report of the gun, it was immediately pursued by the blue hawk, known by the name of the hen-harrier, but escaped into some covert. He then sprung a second, and a third, in the same field, that got away in the same manner ; the hawk hovering round him all the while that he was beating the field, conscious, no doubt, of the game that lurked in the stubble. Hence we may conclude that this bird of prey was rendered very daring and bold by hunger, and that hawks cannot always seize their game when they please. We may farther observe, that they cannot pounce their quarry on the ground, where it might be able to make a stout resistance, since so large a fowl as a pheasant could not but be visible to the piercing eye of a hawk, when hover- ing over the field. Hence that propensity of cowering and squatting, till they are almost trod on, which, no doubt, was intended as a mode of security: though long rendered destructive to the whole race of galline by the invention of — nets and guns. WHITE. Of the great boldness and rapacity of birds of prey, when urged on by hunger, I have seen several instances; par-— of its legs and neck enable it to reach from the tops of the stalks. When confined, tte seeds should therefore be placed above them, and not strewed on the ground, Mr. Herbert says that he does not believe the land-rail will | touch a slug, and it may be doubted whether or not they ever take their food from the ground.— Ep. ‘ Ss RIERS, HAR Hen OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 317 ticularly, when shooting in the winter, in company with two friends, a woodcock flew across us, closely pursued by a small hawk ; we all three fired at the woodcock instead of the hawk, which, notwithstanding the report of three guns close by it, continued its pursuit of the woodcock, struck it down, and carried it off, as we afterwards discovered.* At another time, when partridge-shooting with a friend, we saw a ring-tail hawk rise out of a pit with some large bird in its claws; though at a great distance, we both fired, and obliged it to drop its prey, which proved to be one of the partridges which we were in pursuit of: and lastly, in an evening, I shot at and plainly saw that I had wounded a partridge; but, it being late, was obliged to go home with- out finding it again. The next morning, I walked round my land without any gun; but a favourite old spaniel fol- lowed my heels. When I came near the field where I wounded the bird the evening before, I heard the partridges eal], and they seemed to be much disturbed. On my approaching the bar-way, they all rose, some on my right and some on my left hand; and just before and over my head, I perceived (though indistinctly, from the extreme velocity of their motion) two birds fly directly against each other, when instantly to my great astonishment, down dropped a partridge at my feet; the dog immediately seized it, and, on examination, I found the blood flow verv fast from a fresh wound in the head, but there was some dry clotted blood on its wings and side; whence I concluded, that a hawk had singled out my wounded bird as the object of his prey, and had struck it down the instant that my approach had obliged the birds to rise on the wing; but the space between the hedges was so small, and the motion of the birds so instantaneous and quick, that I could not dis- tinctly observe the operation. Markwick. Great Specktep Diver, or Loon.—As one of my neighbours was traversing Wolmer Forest, from Bramshot across the moors, he found a large uncommon bird fluttering in the heath, but not wounded, which he brought home alive. * TI have known two instances of hawks dashing through a pane of glass te seize canary birds which were hanging near the window.—En. 318 OBSERVATIONS ON RIRDS. On examination it proved to be colymbus glacialis, Linn., the great speckled diver, or loon, which is most excellently described in Willughby’s Ornithology. Every part and proportion of this bird is so incomparably adapted to its mode of life, that in no instance do we see the wisdom of God in the creation to more advantage. The head is sharp, and smaller than the part of the neck adjoin- ing, in order that it may pierce the water; the wings are placed forward, and out of the centre of gravity, for a pur- pose which shall be noticed hereafter; the thighs quite at the podex, in order to facilitate diving; and the legs are flat, and as sharp backwards almost as the edge of a knife, that, in striking, they may easily cut the water; while the feet are palmated and broad for swimming, yet so folded up, when advanced to take a fresh stroke, as to be full as— narrow as the shank. The two exterior toes of the feet are longest; the nails flat and broad, resembling the human, which give strength, and increase the power of swimming. The foot, when expanded, is not at right angles with the leg or body of the bird; but the exterior part inclining towards the head, forms an acute angle with the body; the intention being, not to give motion in the line of the legs themselves, but, by the combined impulse of both in an intermediate line, the line of the body. Most people know, that have observed at all, that the swimming of birds is nothing more than a walking in the — waver, where one foot succeeds the other as on the land, yet no one, as far as | am aware, has remarked that diving fowls, while under water, impel and row themselves forward by a motion of their wings, as well as by the impuise of their | feet: but such is really the case, as any person may easily — be convinced, who will observe ducks when hunted by dogs : ina clear pond. Nor do I know that.any one has given a reason why the wings of diving fowls are placed so forward: doubtless, not for the purpose of promoting their speed in — flying, since that position certainly impedes it; but probably : for the increase of their motion under water, by the use of — four oars instead of two; yet were the wings and feet. nearer — together, as in land birds, they would, when in action, rather hinder than assist one another. This colymbus was of considerable bulk, weighing only OBSERVATIONS ON BIRLS. 319 three drachms short of three pounds avoirdupois. It meas sured in length, from the bill to the tail (which was very short) two feet, and to the extremities. of the toes four inches more: and the breadth of the wings expanded was 42 inches. A person attempted to eat the body, but found it very strong and rancid, as is the flesh of all birds living on fish. Divers, or loons, though bred in the most northerly parts of Europe, yet are seen with us in very severe winters; and on the Thames are called sprat-loons, because they prey much on that sort of fish. The legs of the colymbi and mergi are placed so very back- ward, and so out of all centre of gravity, that these birds cannot walk at all. They are called by Linneus compedes, because they move on the ground as if shackled or fettered. WHITE. These accurate and ingenious observations, tending to set forth in a proper light the wonderful works of God in the creation, and to point out his wisdom in adapting the singular form and position of the limbs of this bird to the particular mode in which it is destined to pass the greatest part of its ufe, in an element much denser than the air, do Mr. White credit, not only as a naturalist, but as a man and as a philo- sopher, in the truest sense of the word, in my opinion; for, were we enabled to trace the works of Nature minutely and accurately, we should find, not only that every bird, but every creature, is equally well adapted to the purpose for which it was intended; though this fitness and propriety of form is more striking in such animals as are destined to any uncommon mode of life. I have had in my possession two birds, which, though of a different genus, bear a great resemblance to Mr. White’s colymbus in their manner of life, which is spent chiefly in the water, where they swim and dive with astonishing rapidity ; for which purpose their fin-toed feet, placed far behind, and very short wings, are particularly well adapted, and show the wisdom of God in the creation as conspicuously as the bird before mentioned. These birds were the greater and lesser crested grebe (podiceps cristatus et auritus). What surprised me most was, that the first of these birds was found alive on dry ground, about seven miles from the sea, to which place 820 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. there was no communication by water. How did it get so far from the sea, its wings and legs being so ill adapted either to flying or walking? The lesser crested grebe was also found in a fresh-water pond, which had no communica- tion with other water, at some miles distance from the sea. Marxkwicx. StonE-CurRLEwW.*—On the 27th of February ,1788, stone- curlews were heard to pipe; and on March 1st, after it was dark, some were passing over the village, as might be per- ceived by their quick short note, which they use in their nocturnal excursions by way of watch-word, that they may not stray and lose their companions. Thus we see that, retire whithersoever they may in the winter, they return again early in the spring, and are, as it now appears, the first summer birds that come back. Per- haps the mildness of the season may have quickened the emigration of the curlews this year. They spend the day in high elevated fields and sheep- walks; but seem to descend, in the night, to streams and meadows, perhaps for water, which their upland haunts do not afford them. WHITE. On the 31st of January, 1792, I reccived a bird of this species, which had been recently killed by a neighbouring farmer, who said that he had frequently seen it in his fields during the former part of the winter: this perhaps was an occasional straggler, which, by some accident, was prevented from accompanying its companions in their migration. MARKWICK. — Tur SMALLEST UNCRESTED WILLOW- W REN.—The smallest * These birds breed on the fallows, and often startle the midnight traveller by their shrill and ominous whistle. This is supposed to be the note so beautifully alluded to by Sir Walter Scott in his poem of the Lady of the _ Lake :— “ And in the plover’s shrilly strain, The signal whistle’s heard again ;” for it certain.y sounds more like a human note than that of a bird.— WILLIAMSON. The eye of the stone-curlew ia singularly beautiful.—Eb. OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 321 uncrested willow-wren, or chiff-chaf, 1s the next early summer bird which we have remarked; it utters two sharp piercing notes, so loud in hollow woods as to occasion an echo, and is usually first heard about the 20th of March. WHITE. This bird, which Mr. White calls the smallest willow-wren, or chiff-chaf, makes its appearance very early in the spring, and is very common with us; but I cannot make out the three different species of willow-wrens, which he assures us he has discovered. Ever since the publication of his History of Selborne, I have used my utmost endeavours to discover his three birds, but hitherto without success. J have fre- quently shot the bird which “ haunts only the tops of trees, aud makes a sibilous noise,’ even in the very act of uttering that sibilous note; but it always proved to be the common willow-wren, or his chiff-chaf. In short, I never could dis- cover more than one species, unless my greater pettichaps (sylvia hortensis of Latham) is his greatest willow-wren. MarkwIcx. Frery-Ow1, or Goat-Sucker.—The country people have a notion that the fern-owl, or churn-owl, or eve-jarr, which they also call a puckeridge, is very injurious to weanling calves, by inflicting, as it strikes at them, the fatal distemper known to cow-leeches by the name of puckeridge. Thus does this harmless, ill-fated bird fall under a double impu- tation, which it by no means deserves,—in Italy, of sucking the teats of goats, whence it is called caprimulgus ; and with us, of communicating a deadly disorder to cattle. But the truth of the matter is, the malady above mentioned is occa- sioned by the estrus bovis, a dipterous insect, which lays its eggs along the chines of kine, where the maggots, when hatched, eat their way through the hide of the beast into the flesh, and grow to a very large size. I have just talked with @ man, who says he has more than once stripped calves who have died of the puckeridge ; that the ail or complaint lay along the chine, where the flesh was much swelled, and filled. with purulent matter. Once I myself saw a large rough maggot of this sort squeezed out of the back of a cow. These maggots in Essex are called wornils, _ The least observation and attention would convinee men ¥ 3292 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. that these birds neither injure the goatherd nor the grazier, but are perfectly harmless, and subsist alone, being night+ birds, on night-insects, such as scarabei and phalene; and through the month of July, mostly on the scarabeus solsti- tialis, which in many districts abounds at that season. Those that we have opened have always had their craws stuffed with large night-moths and their eggs, and pieces of chaffers ; nor does it anywise appear how they can, weak and unarmed as they seem, inflict any harm upon kine, unless they possess the powers of animal magnetism, and can affect them by fluttering over them. A fern-owl this evening (August 27) showed off in a very unusual and entertaining manner, by hawking round and round the circumference of my great spreading oak for twenty times following, keeping mostly close to the grass, but occasionally glancing up amidst the boughs of the tree. This amusing bird was then in pursuit of a brood of some particular phalene belonging to the oak, of which there are . several sorts; and exhibited on the occasion a command of wing superior, I think, to that of the swallow itself. When a person approaches the haunt of fern-owls in an evening, they continue flying round the head of the obtruder ; and, by striking their wings together above their backs, in the manner that the pigeons called smiters are known to do, make a smart snap ; perhaps at that time they are jealous for their young; and their noise and gesture are intended by way of menace. Fern-owls have attachment to oaks, no doubt on account of food; for the nexs evening we saw one again several times among the boughs of the same tree; but it did not skim round its stem over the grass, as on the evening before. In May, these birds fiad the scarabeus melolontha on the oak; and the scarabeus solstitialis at midsummer. These peculiar birds can only be watched and observed for two hours in the twenty-four: and then in a dubious twilight, an hour after sun-set, and an hour before sun-rise. On this day (July 14, 1789), a woman brought me two egos of a fern-owl, or eve-jarr, which she found on the verge of the Hanger, to the left of the Hermitage, under a beechen shrub. This person, who hves just at the foot of the Hanger, seems well acquainted with these nocturnal swallows, and ee or OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 323 says sue has often found their eggs near that place, and that they lay only two at a time on the bare ground. The eggs were oblong, dusky, and streaked somewhat m the manner of the plumage of the parent bird, and were equal m size at each end. The dam was sitting on the eggs when found, which contained the rudiments of young, and would have been hatched, perhaps, in a week. ‘From hence we may see the time of their breeding, which corresponds pretty well with the swift, as does also the period of their arrival. Each species is usually seen about the beginning of May; each breeds but once in a summer ; each lays only two eggs. July 4, 1790.—The woman who brought me two fern- owl’s eggs last year, on July 14, on this day produced me two more, one of which had been laid this morning, as appears plainly, because there was only one in the nest the evening before. They were found, as last July, on the verge of the Down above the Hermitage, under a beechen shrub, on the naked ground. Last year, those eggs were full ot young, and just ready to be hatched. These circumstances point out the exact time when these curious a migratory birds lay their eggs and hatch their young.* fF ern-owls, like snipes, stone- curlews, and some other birds, make no nests. Birds that build on the ground do not make much of nests. WHIte. No author that I am acquainted with has given so accu- rate and pleasing an account of the manners and habits of the goat-sucker as Mr. White, taken entirely from his own observations. Its beimg a nocturnal bird, has prevented my having many opportunities of observing it. I suspect that it passes the day in concealment amidst the dark and shady gloom of deep-wooded dells, or, as they are called here, gills ; having more than once seen it roused from such solitary places by my dogs, when shooting in the day-time. I have * The fern-owl arrives one of the last of our migratory birds, and it has been known to remain in this country till late in November. I disturbed a pair of these birds on a bright sunny day as they were sitting on a stunted oak tres at the edge of some boggy ground in Wales. They made a short flight, and appeared stupified and unconscious of any danger. It is to be regretted that they should be wantonly destroyed, for they are very useful in devouriug numbers of chaffers.— Ep, ¥2 324 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. also sometimes seen it in an evening, but not long enough to take notice of its habit and manners. I have never seen it but in the summer, between the months of May and September. MarkwiIcxk. Sanp-Martins.—March 238, 1788.—A gentleman, who was this week on a visit at Waverley, took the opportunity of examining some of the holes in the sand-banks with which that district abounds. As these are undoubtedly bored by bank-martins, and are the places where they avowedly breed, he was in hopes they might have slept there also, and that he might have surprised them just as they were awaking from their winter slumbers. When he had dug for some time, he found the holes were horizontal and serpentine, as I had observed before; and that the nests were deposited at the inner end, and had been occupied by broods in former summers; but no torpid birds were to be found. He opened and examined about a dozen holes. Another gentleman made the same search many years ago, with as little success. These holes were in depth about two feet.* March 21, 1790.—A single bank or sand-martin was seen hovering and playing round the sand-pit at Short Heath, where in the summer they abound. April 9, 1793.—A. sober hind assures us, that this day, on Wish-Hanger Common, between Hedleigh and Frinsham, he saw several bank-martins playing in and out, and hanging before some nest holes in a sand bill, where these birds usually nestle. This incident confirms my suspicions that this species of hirundo is to be seen first of any; and gives great reason to suppose that they do not leave their wild haunts at all, but are secreted amidst the clefts and caverns of those abrupt cliffs where they usually spend their summers. The late severe weather considered, it is not very probable * I am not sure that the habits of the little sand-martin (Hirundo riparia) do not interest me more than those of the swallow. They eavavate their holes in sunny sand-banks with wonderful rapidity, and dart in and out of them ina way peculiarly pleasing, and which I am never tired of watch- ing. When the male and female are resting for a few moments, in the receases of their sandy retreat, their gentle notes of love and affection may be heard, and then they resume their rapid and “ joyous” flight.—Eb, OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 325 that these birds should have migrated so early from a tropical region, through all these cutting winds and pinching frosts - but it is easy to suppose that they may, like bats and flies, have been awakened by the influence of the sun amidst their secret latebre, where they have spent the uncomfortable foodless months in a torpid state, and the profoundest of slumbers. There is a large pond at Wish-Hanger, which induces these sand-martins to frequent that district. For I have ever remarked that they haunt near great waters, either rivers or lakes. WHITE. Here, and in many other passages of his writings, this very ingenious naturalist favours the opinion that part, at least, of the swallow tribe pass their winter in a torpid state, in the same manner as bats and flies, and revive again on the approach of spring. I have frequently taken notice of all these circumstances, which induced Mr. White to suppose that some of the hirundines lie torpid during winter. I have seen, so late as November, on a finer day than usual at that season of the year, two or three swallows flymg backwards and forwards under a warm hedge, or on the sunny side of some old building; nay, I once saw, on the 8th of December, two martins flying about very briskly, the weather being mild. I had not seen any considerable number, either of swallows or martins, for a good while before: from whence, then, could these few birds come, if not from some hole or cavern where they had laid themselves up for the winter? Surely it will not be asserted that these birds migrate back again, from some distant tropical region, merely on the appearance of a fine day or two at this late season of the year. Again, very early in the spring, and sometimes immediately after very cold, severe weather, on its growing a little warmer, a few of these birds suddenly make their appearance, long before the generality of them are seen. These appearances certainly favour the opinion of their passing the winter in a torpid state, but do not absolutely prove the fact; for who ever saw them reviving of their own accord from their torpid state, without being first brought to the fire, and, as it were, forced into life again; soon after which revivification, they constantly die. MaRkKwIck. 826 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS, SwaLtows, ConGREGATING AND D1ISAPPEARANCE OF.*— During the severe winds that often prevail late in the spring, it is not easy to say how the hirwndines subsist; for they withdraw themselves, and are hardly ever seen, nor do any insects appear for their support. That they can retire to rest, and sleep away these uncomfortable periods, as bats do, is a matter rather to be suspected than proved: or do they not rather spend their time in deep and sheltered vales near waters, where insects are more likely to be found? Certain it is, that hardly any individuals of this genus have, at such times, been seen for several days together. September 13, 1791.—The congregating flocks of hirun- dines on the church and tower are very beautiful and amusing! When they fly off together from the roof, on any alarm, they quite swarm in the air. But they soon settle in heaps, and, preening their feathers, and lifting up their wings to admit the sun, seem highly to enjoy the warm situation. Thus they spend the heat of the day, preparing for their emigra- tion, and, as it were, consulting when and where they are to go. The flight about the church seems to consist chiefly of house-martins, about four hundred in number: but there are other places of rendezvous about the village frequented st the same time. It is remarkable, that though most of them sit on the bat- tlements and roof, yet many hang or cling for some time by their claws against the surface of the walls, in a manner not practised by them at any other time of their remaining with us. The swallows seem to delight more in holding their assemblies on trees.¢ November 8, 1789.—Two swallows were seen this morning at’ Newton Vicarage House, hovering and settling on the roofs and out-buildings. None have been observed at Sel- borne since October 11. It is very remarkable, that after * A correspondent informs me that he has observed that when a ‘arge number of swallows have congregated in the neighbourhood of Liverpool, they have suddenly disappeared, but, upon a strong gale of wind arising, they have as suddenly reassembled till the gale was over.—Eb, : + On the 2nd and 38rd of December, 1842, several swallows were seen flying about some of the towers of Windsor Castle ; the thermometer then wag 48, and the wind S.S.W.—Eb, ' OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 327 the hirundines have disappeared for some weeks, a few are occasionally seen again; sometimes, in the first week in November, and that only for one day. Do they not with- draw and slumber in some hiding-place during the interval ? for we cannot suppose they had migrated to warmer climes, and so returned again for one day. Is it not more probable that they are awakened from sleep, and, like the bats, are come forth to collect a little food?* Bats appear at al! * Concerning swallows, the reader will see, that Mr. White appears to incline more and more in favour of their torpidity, and against their migration. Mr. D. Barrington is still more positive on the same side of the question. See his Miscellanies, p.225, The ancients generally mention this bird as winter- ing in Africa. See Anacreon, Ay. ed. Brunk. p.38. The Rhodians had a festival called xeAddvia, when the boys brought about young swallows: the song which they sang may be seen in the works of Meursius, v. iii. p- 974. fol. *HAGe, "HAGE, xeALSwY KaAGs “Npas &yovta, kal Kadovs *"EviavTovs °Em) yaotépa AcuKa kK Gm vaTa wéAatva. “ He comes! He comes! who loves to bear Soft sunny hours and seasons fair ; The swallow hither comes to rest His sable wings and snowy breast.” And, alluding to this custom, Avienus (whe may be considered only as a very bad translator of an excellent poem, the Periegesis of Dionysius,) thus says, v. 705, « Nam cum vere novo, tellus se dura relaxat, Culminibusque cavis, blandum strepit ales hirundo, Gens devota choros agitat !” When the hard earth grows soft in early spring, And on our roofs the noisy swallows sing. . From a passage in the Birds of Aristophanes, we learn, that among the Greeks, the crane pointed out the time of sowing; the arrival of the kite, the time of sheep-shearing ; and the swallow the time to put on summer clothes. Accord- ing to the Greek: Calendar of Flora, kept by Theophrastus at Athens, the Ornithian winds blow, and the swallow comes, between the 28th of February and the 12th of March ; the kite and nightingale appear between the 11th and 26th of March ; the cuckoo appears at the same time the young figs come out; thence his name. See Stivzinerieet’s TZ'racts on Natural His- tory, p. 324. Mr. White says, p. 148, it is strange that rooks and starlings accompany each other: but this is the case with other birds; the short-eared owl often accompanies flights of woodcocks in this country. See Pennant’s Scotland, i. p- 11. In Greece, the cuckoo migrates with the turtle flocks, thence they call him trigonokractes, or turtle-leader.— Mitrorp. 328 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. seasons through the autumn and spring months, when the thermometer is at 50, because then phalene and moths are stirring. These swallows looked like young ones. Wuirz. Of their migration, the proofs are such as will scarcely admit of a doubt. Sir Charles Wager and Captain Wright saw vast flocks of them at sea,* when on their passage from one country to another. Our author, Mr. White, saw what he deemed the actual migration of these birds, and which he has described at p.78 of his History of Selborne ; and of their congregating together on the roofs of churches and other buildings, and on trees, previous to their departure, many instances occur; particularly, 1 once observed a large flock of house-martins on the roof of the church here at Catsfield, which acted exactly in the manner here described by Mr. White, sometimes preening their feathers, and spreading their wings to the sun, and then flying off all together, but soon returning to their former situation. The greatest part of these birds seemed to be young ones. Marxwicx. Waeratis.— While the cows are feeding in the moist low pasture, broods of wagtails, white and grey, run round them, close up to their noses, and under their very bellies, availing themselves of the flies that settle on their legs, and probably finding worms and larve that are roused by the trampling of their feet. Nature is such an economist, that * I have had so many facts sent me of vast flocks of swallows having been seen at sea, and also of their settling on the rigging of ships, that the proofs of their migration cannot be doubted. Indeed I have frequently witnessed their departure fiom, and, in one instance, their arrival in this country. In the latter case they settled on tLe ground in Kew Park, about 11 o’clock in the norning, and were so much exhausted, that they suffered me to ride close to then.. This was in April. The strong propensity of migratory birds to leave and return at the appointed season, plainly demonstrates that this unvarying principle within them is an instinct given them by a beneficent Creator at the very time best adapted for their flight, and which is apparently irresistible. Indeed, they seem to migrate as by a sudden impulse, and neither sooner or later than is expedient, almost at the saine time yearly ; so that up to the hour of their flight, and as long as it is needful to stay fos their preservation, they appear to have no thought of departure.—Eb, rt if \\nases \\ \ THe Grey WAGTAIL. OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 329 the most inconyruous animals can avail themselves of each other! Interest makes strange friendships. WHITE. Birds continually avail themselves of particular and un- usual circumstances to procure their food; thus wagtails keep playing about the noses and legs of cattle as they feed, in quest of flies and other insects which abound near those animals; and great numbers of them will follow close to the plough to devonr the worms, &c., that are turned up by that instrument. The red-breast attends the gardener in digging his borders; and will, with great familiarity and tameness, pick out the worms almost close to his spade, as I have frequently seen.* Starlings and magpies very often sit on the backs of sheep and deer to pick out their ticks. Markwick. Wrynecrs.—These birds appear on the grass-plots and walks; they walk a little as well as hop, and thrust their bills into the turf, in quest, I conclude, of ants, which are their food. While they hold their bills in the grass, they draw our their prey with their tongues, which are so long as to be coiled round their heads. WHITE. - GrosBeak.—Mr, B. shot a cock grosbeak, which he had observed to haunt his garden for more than a fortnight. I began to accuse this bird of making sad havoc among the buds of the cherries, gooseberries, and wall-fruit of all the neighbouring orchards. Upon opening its crop, or craw, no buds were to be seen; buta mass of kernels of the stones of fruits. Mr. B. observed, that this bird frequented the spot where plum-trees grow; and that he had seen it with somewhat hard in its mouth, which it broke with difficulty ; these were the stones of damsons. The Latin ornithologists call this bird coccothraustes, i. e. berry-breaker, because with its large horny beak it cracks and breaks the shells of stone fruits for the sake of the seed or kernel. Birds of this sort are rarely seen in England, and only in winter. WHITE. * Rooks may be seen following close upon a plough at work, to feed upon any grubs or worms which may be turned up.—Eb. 330 OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. T have never seen this rare bird but during the severest cold of the hardest winters: at which season of the year, I have had in my possession two or three that were killed in this neighbourhood in different years. Marxwick. Ow1s.—Mr. White has observed, p. 159, that the ow! returns to its young with food once in five minutes. Mr. Montague has observed, that the wren returns once in two minutes, or, upon an average, thirty-six times im an hour; and this continued full sixteen hours in a day, which, if equally divided between eight young ones, each would receive seventy-two feeds in the day, the whole amounting to five hundred and seventy-six. See Ornitholog. Dict. p. 35. To this I will add, that the swallow never fails to return to its nest at the expiration of every second or third minute. MiIrForp. CucKkoos.—Since Mr. White’s time, much has been added to our knowledge of the cuckoo, by the patient attention of Dr. Jenner. Concerning the singing of the cuckoo, men- tioned by Mr. White, at p. 140, I will add the following curious memoranda from the 7th volume of the Transactions . of the Linnean Society. “'The cuckoo begins early in the season with the interval of a minor third, the bird then proceeds to a major third, next to a fourth, then a fifth, after which his voice breaks without attaining a minor sixth.” This curious circumstance was, however, observed very long ago; and it forms the subject of an epigram in that scarce black-letter volume, the Hpigrams of John Heywood, 1587. Mirrorp. ORSERVATIONS ON QUADRUPEDS. 301 OBSERVATIONS ON QUADRUPEDS. Surrp.—tThe sheep on the downs this winter (1769) are very ragged, and their coats much torn; the shepherds say, they tear their fleeces with their own mouths and horns, and they are always in that way in mild wet winters, being teased and tickled with a kind of lice. After ewes and lambs are shorn, there is great confusion and bleating, neither the dams nor the young being able to distinguish one another as before. This embarrassment seems not so much to arise from the loss of the fleece, which may occasion an alteration in their appearance, as from the defect of that notus odor, discriminating each individual personally: which also is confounded by the strong scent of the pitch and tar wherewith they are newly marked; for the brute creation recognise each other more from the smell than the sight; and in matters of identity and diversity, appeal much more to their noses than their eyes. After sheep have been washed, there is the same confusion, from the reason given above. WHITE, Razgirs.—Rabbits make incomparably the finest turf, for they not only bite closer than larger quadrupeds,* but they * It has been generally supposed that wild rabbits will not beeome domes- ticated. The following interesting account of one, communicated to me by a lady, will afford a proof to the contrary :— “ One evening last spring my dog barked at something behind a flower-pot that stood in the door-porch. I thought a toad was there, but it proved to be avery young rabbit, a wild one. The poor thing was in a state of great exhaustion as if it had been chased, and had been a long while without food. It was quiet in the hand and allowed a little warm milk to be put into its mouth. Upon being wrapt in flannel and placed in a basket by the fire, it soon went to sleep. When it awoke, more milk was offered in a small spoon, which this time was sucked with right good will ; and the little creature con- tinued to take the milk in this way for several days, until strong enough to help itself out of a cup. It appeared to become tame 'mmediately, soon learnt its name, and I never saw a happier or merrier little pet. Its gambols on the carpet were full of fun. When tired with play, it would feed on the 332 OBSERVATIONS ON QUADRUPEDS, allow no bents to rise; hence warrens produce much the most delicate turf for gardens. Sheep never touch the stalks of grasses.* WHITE. green food and nice bits placed there for it, and, when satisfied, it used to climb up the skirt of the dress, nestle in the lap or under the arm, and go t sleep, If this indulgence could not be permitted, then Bunny (as we callea it) would spring into my work-basket, and take a nap there. At mid-day it liked to sit in the sun cn the window-seat, then it would clean its fur and long ears, each being separately drawn down, and held by one foot while brushed by the other. This duty performed, it would stretch at full ‘length, and basking in the sun-beams fall asleep. Strange to tell, all this was going on with the dog in the room, wiio had been mide to understand that the rabbit was not to be touched; stranger still, the rabbit ceased to show any fear o. th. dog; but, on the contrary, delighted in jumping on the dog’s back and running after his tail. These liberties, however, were not pleasing to Jewel; they were evidently only endured in obedience to the commands of his mistress. Not approving of one favourite being made happy at the other’s expense, I was obliged to interfere upon these cccasions, and call Bunny to order. ° “ Being frequently told that a wild rabbit could not be so thoroughly .domesticated, but that it would return to the woods if it regained its liberty I feared that if mine got loose it would certainly run away. Yet I wished it should be sometimes in the garden to feed upon such green food as it liked best: for this purpose I fastened it with a collar and small chain, and, thus secured, led it about. One evening the chain unfortunately broke, and Bunny was free! At first we saw it runuing from place to place with wild delight, but after a little while we could not see it, and we hunted in vain under the shrubs, calling it by name, until it became dark; we then ceased to search any longer, and I concluded my pretty pet was gone. “ Before retiring for the night, 1 gave a last look out of the window, in the hope I might chance to see it once more. The moon was then shining brightly, and I distinctly saw my little rabbit sitting at the door with head and ears erect, as if listening for its friends within, anxious, perhaps, for its accustomed Rice supper and soft warm bed. I hastened down stairs to let it in, calling it by name, when, the moment I opened the door, a strange cat darted forward, seized it by the neck, and bore it screaming away! Of course every effort of mine was useless to overtake the cat. “T feel convinced that this fond little creature would not have left us, to return to the wood. That it did not come when called, was the effect or excessive joy for its newly found freedom, which must have been doubly delightful while we were near, as no doubt it saw us when we could not see it, and was only quietly feeding when we thought it was gone away. “Four months must have been the extent of poor Bunny's shor. life.”’—Eb. * This is a wise and beautiful provision of Providence. If sheep, or indeed any quadrupeds were to feed on the stalks of grasses, the seed vessels would be destroyed, and, consequently, the turf would not be renovated from time to time. In order to guavd against their destruction, the stalks are very bitter. (Sce Rabbits.)\—En. nam” OBSERVATIONS ON QUADRUPEDS. 333 Caz? anp Squirrets.—A boy has taken three little young squirrels in their nest, or drey,* as it is called in these parts. These small creatures he put under the care of a cat who had lately lost her kittens, and finds that she nurses and suckles them with the same assiduity and affection as if they were her own offspring.t This circumstance corroborates my suspicion, that the mention of exposed and deserted children being nurtured by female beasts of prey who had lost their young, may not be so improbable an incident as many have supposed; and therefore may be a justification of those authors who have gravely mentioned, what some have deemed to be a wild and improbable story. So many people went to see the little squirrels suckled by a cat, that the foster mother became jealous of her charge, and in pain for their safety; and therefore hid them over the ceiling, where one died. This circumstance shows her affection for these foundlings, and that she supposed the squirrels to be her own young. ‘Thus hens, when they have hatched ducklings. are equally attached to them as if they were their own chickens. WHITE. Horsrt.—An old hunting mare, which ran on the common, being taken very ill, ran down into the village, as it were, to implore the help of men, and died the night following in the street. WUuITE. Hounps.—The king’s stag hounds came down to Alton, attended by a huntsman and six yeomen prickers, with horns, to try for the stag that has haunted Harteley Wood for so long a time. Many hundreds of people, horse and foot, attended the dogs to see the deer unharboured; but though the huntsman drew Harteley Wood, and Long Coppice, and Shrubwood, and Temple Hangers, and, in their way back, Harteley and Ward-le-ham Hangers, yet no stag could be found. * The squirrel’s nest is not only called a drey in Hampshire, but also in other counties ; in Suffolk it is called a bay. The word “drey,” though now provincial, I have met with in some of our old writers.—Mitrorp. + ayy 4 * pate 4, ' , yp hy yf De pt eta Se fF hp ery?) den ia Ps eatiietes esa seit ¢ thetetate® 4 the tote s¢ ylgt at oS a ie Hasiieeeeeteats $eo4 CATON EE BE pe hy aed } ete fe 4 nate hy Sete Ge t etal d atcha ne Pyne Ot oF ye ‘ pee sain ted at ail ‘ a4 oda 6c 654 + eae fate 11! el Soot. t sf {i ! hd ‘ ¢ £ t ed —e~ t bee vf 4 $ tue, * é tes mt 44 ; "4 . taf ¢itate POO Coe ad ot ee yea Aihese crt PA ee ae eae ye es Se ws * _— eae yw Fe ees