118 ON THE POPULARITY OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



" Beside the cottage in which Elleh dwelt 



Stands a tall Ash-tree ; to whose topmost twig 



A thrush resorts, and annually chants, 



At morn and evening, from that naked perch, 



While all the undergrove is thick with leaves, 



A time beguiling ditty, for delight 



Of his fond partner, silent iti the nest."* 



Bards in general take but a low rank among naturalists, although the latter 

 are indebted to them for many an illustration ; but surely the above is a sweet 

 morsel of local Natural History, recorded by an evident observer and lover of 

 Nature, and though having reference to a particular Thrush and Ash-tree, yet it 

 interests all, because, to say nothing of Ellen, few persons familiar with the 

 country are unacquainted with Thrushes resorting, like that of the poet, to some 

 old tree's " topmost twig." 



Many an observer of Nature, competent to the task, has probably never 

 thought of presenting himself as a professed naturalist, but if his delineation be 

 correct, it is evident that he understands that truly popular language which 

 captivates all hearts by its adaptation to the subject depicted, and which is not 

 the less interesting because it is comprehended by all, and recognized by all who 

 have an opportunity to make the comparison. I scarcely think the manners of 

 that pert braggadocio of the farm -yard, the Common Goose, has been better pour- 

 trayed in any professedly ornithological work, than in the following lines of poor 

 almost-forgotten Bloomfield — 



" He comes, the pest and terror of the yard, 

 His full-fledg'd progeny's imperious guard ; 

 The gander; spiteful, insolent, and baldj 

 At the colt's fetlock, takes his daring hold : 

 There, Serpent-like, escapes a dreadful blow, 

 And straight attacks a poor defenceless Cow. 

 Each booby Goose th' unworthy strife enjoys, 

 And hails his prowess with redoubled noise. 

 Then back he stalks, of self-importance full, 

 Seizes the shaggy foretop of the bull, 

 Till whirled aloft he falls ; a timely check 

 Enough to dislocate his worthless neck : 

 For lo ! of old, he boasts an honoured wound. 

 — Behold that broken wing that trails the ground." 



The following quotations from the same author's " Farmer's Boy," describe 

 two forms of cloud that have received peculiar appellations from scientific mete- 

 orologists, which I dare say Bloomfield never knew of, though his appropriate 



* Poetic*l Works, Vol. V., p. 260. 



