volcano sprung out of the sea on the coast of Norway. On this occasion Milton's noble simile of the sun, in his first book of Paradise Lost, frequently occurred to my mind; and it is indeed particularly applicable, because, towards the end, it alludes to a superstitious kind of dread, with which the minds of men are always impressed by such strange and unusual phenomena.

"As when the sun, new risen,

Looks through the horizontal, misty air,

Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon,

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds

On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs.-

LETTER LXVI. TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. WE are very seldom annoyed with thunder-storms; and it is no less remarkable than true, that those which arise in the south have hardly been known to reach this village; for before they get over us, they take a direction to the east or to the west, or sometimes divide into two, and go in part to one of those quarters, and in part to the other; as was truly the case in summer 1783, when though the country round was continually harassed with tempests, and often from the south, yet we escaped them all; as appears by my journal of that summer. The only way that I can at all account for this fact--for such it is—is that, on that quarter, between us and the sea, there are continual mountains, hill behind hill, such as Nore-hill, the Barnet, Butser-hill, and Ports-down, which somehow divert the storms, and give them a different direction. High promontories, and elevated grounds, have always been observed to attract clouds and disarm them of their mischievous contents, which are discharged into the trees and summits as soon as they come in contact with those turbulent meteors; while the humble vales escape, because they are so far beneath them.

But, when I say I do not remember a thunder-storm from the south, I do not mean that we never have suffered from thunderstorms at all; for on June 5th, 1784, the thermometer in the morning being at 64, and at noon at 70, the barometer at 29six tenths one-half, and the wind north, I observed a blue mist, smelling strongly of sulphur, hanging along our sloping woods, and seeming to indicate that thunder was at hand. I was called in about two in the afternoon, and so missed seeing the gather

ing of the clouds in the north; which they who were abroad assured me had something uncommon in its appearance. At about a quarter after two the storm began in the parish of Hartley, moving slowly from north to south; and from thence it came over Norton-farm, and so to Grange-farm, both in this parish. It began with vast drops of rain, which were soon succeeded by round hail, and then by convex pieces of ice, which measured three inches in girth. Had it been as extensive as it was violent, and of any continuance (for it was very short), it must have ravaged all the neighbourhood. In the parish of Hartley it did some damage to one farm; but Norton, which lay in the centre of the storm, was greatly injured; as was Grange, which lay next to it. It did but just reach to the middle of the village, where the hail broke my north windows, and all my garden-lights and hand-glasses, and many of my neighbours' windows. The extent of the storm was about two miles in length and one in breadth. We were just sitting down to dinner; but were soon diverted from our repast by the clattering of tiles and the jingling of glass. There fell at the same time prodigious torrents of rain on the farms above mentioned, which occasioned a flood as violent as it was sudden; doing great damage to the meadows and fallows, by deluging the one and washing away the soil of the other. The hollow lane towards Alton was so torn and disordered as not to be passable till mended, rocks being removed that weighed 200 weight. Those that saw the effect which the great hail had on ponds and pools say that the dashing of the water made an extraordinary appearance, the froth and spray standing up in the air three feet above the surface. The rushing and roaring of the hail, as it approached, was truly tremendous.

Though the clouds at South Lambeth, near London, were at that juncture thin and light, and no storm was in sight, nor within hearing, yet the air was strongly electric; for the bells of an electric machine at that place rang repeatedly, and fierce sparks were discharged

When I first took the present work in hand I proposed to have added an Annus Historico-naturalis, or the Natural History of the Twelve Months of the year; which would have comprised many incidents and occurrences that have not fallen in my way to be mentioned in my series of letters;-but, as Mr. Aikin of Warrington has lately published somewhat of this sort, and as

the length of my correspondence has sufficiently put your patience to the test, I shall here take a respectful leave of you and natural history together; And am, &c.

SELBORNE, June, 25, 1787.

GIL. WHITE,

More Particulars respecting the Old Family Tortoise, omitted in the Natural History.

BECAUSE We call this creature an abject reptile, we are too apt to undervalue his abilities, and 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 therefore 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 heat in the 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 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 enterprize. Yet there is a season of the year (usually the beginning of June) when his exertions are remarkable. He then walks on tiptoe, and is stirring by five in the morning; and, traversing the garden, examines every wicket and interstice in the fences, through which he will escape if possible and often has eluded the care of the gardener, 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.

Several years ago a book was written entitled "Fruit-walls improved by inclining them to horizon:" in which the author has shown, by calculation, that a much greater number of the rays of the sun will fall on such walls than on those which are perpendicular.

261

OBSERVATIONS

ON

VARIOUS PARTS OF NATURE.

BIRDS.

In severe weather, fieldfares, redwings, skylarks, and titlarks, resort to watered meadows for food; the latter wades up to its belly in pursuit of the pupa of insects, and runs along upon the floating grass and weeds.* Many gnats are on the snow near the water, these support the birds in part.

* Mr. White perpetually confounds the common and tree pipits, the species he has above designated "titlark" being a very different bird from that which he several times speaks of under the same name in his letters. Four species of this genus-anthus-are now admitted into the British fauna, three of which are common birds in their respective localities. They form a very natural group, and are intimately allied with the different wagtail genera, which they resemble in every essential particular, though externally approximating towards the larks (alauda), in which genus they were arranged by Linnæus and the other earlier naturalists, and by which general name they are still popularly known, our three common species being vulgarly denominated titlark, pipitlark, and mudlark. They have little affinity, however, for the lark genus, notwithstanding this apparent resemblance, and, in a system based on the physiological relations of species, should range at a considerable distance from them, being modifications of a distinct type of organization. In general aspect they are less energetic than the larks, stand higher on the legs, and run about much more in the manner of a water wagtail. They sing generally upon the wing, but never soar to any considerable height, nor have they the characteristic breadth of wing of the lark genus; they ascend only a little way, reiterating without intermission a single note, which only varies as they commence descending, at which time, as they slowly, with wings but half expanded, float obliquely downward, many of them utter strains of more interest. They further differ from the larks, and very strikingly, in the changes they undergo in plumage, a character of much importance towards determining the true affinities of birds. Thus, the larks are at first clad in a peculiar mottled garb, which is entirely cast at the first moulting, including the wing and tail primaries; they also change their feathers once only in the year, though shedding the extreme tips of them in the spring; but the pipits (like all the other wagtail genera) are double moulting birds, changing all but the primaries both in spring and autumn, and retaining their nestling primaries till the second autumn, that is, until the third (including the vernal) renovation of their clothing plumage; their nestling garb, also, is simply intermediate between the diverse seasonal dresses of the old birds.

To return, however, to the specific distinctions, which Mr. White altogether overlooked. The most abundant species is the common pipit (A. communis), or meadow pipit, as it is often called. This is by far the most generally diffused, and haunts everywhere, in all parts of the island, wild moors and commons, marshes, and meadow lands wherever situate, being equally common on the bleakest mountain heaths and along the richest water-meadows of the south It is the smallest species, and one of the most typical, or characteristic of its tribe. The bi is slender and insectivorous-looking, the hind toe furnished with an elongated and straightened claw, as in the larks, which all the genus much resemble in their colours and markings. It sings generally on the wing, in the manner described, but its voice has little music to recommend it,

Birds are much influenced in their choice of food by colour, for though white currants are a much sweeter fruit than red, yet they seldom touch the former till they have devoured every bunch of the latter.

Redstarts, flycatchers, and blackcaps, arrive early in April. If these little delicate beings are birds of passage (as we have reason to suppose they are, because they are never seen in winter) how could they, feeble as they seem, bear up against such storms of snow and rain, and make their way through such meteorous turbulences, as one should suppose would embarrass and retard the most hardy and resolute of the winged nation? Yet they keep their appointed times and seasons; and in spite of frosts and winds return to their stations periodically, as if they had met with nothing to obstruct them. The withdrawing and appearance of the short-winged summer birds is a very puzzling circumstance in natural history!

When the boys bring me wasps' nests, my bantam fowls fare deliciously, and, when the combs are pulled to pieces, devour the young wasps in their maggot state with the highest glee and

being merely the same note, repeated gradually quicker and quicker till it reaches the ground. The summer plumage is considerably more dusky than that of winter.

Closely allied to it is the shore pipit (A. obscuru‹), called mud-lark by the London bird-catchers, of larger size and much darker colour, with the hind-claw somewhat less elongated, and the bill proportionably longer and larger. This species almost exclusively inhabits the sea-shore, where it abounds on many parts of the coast, subsisting, for the most part (as I have ascertained by dissection), on small-shelled mollusca. The common pipit also frequents the same localities. The shore pipit rises singing into the air in exactly the same manner as the former, with the same monotouous pip, pip, pip; but its notes are pleasingly varied in the descent, a little reminding one of those of the domestic canary. It migrates partially within the limits of the island, being found only in winter in some parts of the southern coast; and, in autumn, occasionally ventures inland, being taken sometimes near London by the bird-catchers. Both this and the former species are very commonly the foster-parent of a young cuckoo.

Next we have the tree pipit (A. arboreus), the titlark of Mr. White's letters and of the birdcatchers, though in books this name has been erroneously applied to the A. communis. It is by far the most beautiful of the genus, and the sweetest songster, and differs in many particulars from the rest. The bill is thicker at the base, more conical, and lark-like; the feet have more of a perching character, the toes being longer, with the hind claw shorter and more curved; and there is less difference between its summer and winter plumage. Its general aspect is also very different, being more equally poised on the centre of gravity, whence its movements are more graceful, and they are also much more deliberate than those of the others. It is a migratory species, chiefly inhabiting enclosed situations, more particularly where a few tall trees grow out of the hedge. There it warbles forth its sweet melody, often perched at a considerable height from the ground, and frequently as it slowly sails downward, having only the characteristic pipit-cry when ascending. After moulting at the close of summer, they assemble in small flocks, apparently the amount of broods, soon after which the majority leave the country. This species is much sought after by bird-catchers, in order to teach its song to young canaries, the best songsters of which are usually reared under the tree pipit and nightingale.

The great pipit (A. maximus; Ricardi, auct.) is a very rare bird all over Europe, at once distinguishable by its much larger size. It is n every respect a true anthus, and a specimen lately caught near London by a bird-catcher, during its autumnal moult, enables me to say that its changes are similar to those of A. communis. It is not improbably a summer visitant -ED.