proghess of the seasons. 87 



impossible : I will not attempt it. Next, I visited Isleworth ; returning, 

 after a long stroll, to Brentford, and wandering thence through a number of 

 orchards, until I reached Great Ealing. 



Here, amidst other cruelties practised on birds, I observed a large, upright, 

 narrow cage, (painted and made to resemble a house,) suspended beneath a 

 window. In it was immured a harmless sky-lark. I should mention, that 

 this house-cage had no light admitted through its sham windows ; but was 

 dark and gloomy. In front, near the bottom, was a small door, or opening, 

 allowing the poor bird to come forward and stand partially on an arched 

 platform. The space, however, was so wretchedly narrow as to prevent " the 

 bard of Heaven" from squeezing more than half his body into it, — his 

 tail and hinder parts remaining behind in his dark prison. A front of wicker 

 to this little outlet completed the lark's " happy habitation." And there was 

 this noble fellow, — this herald of the sky, — doomed to drag out his wi'etched 

 life ! Restless on the wing, and listening to the happy voices of his " free " 

 brethren just above his head, — there he hung, an object indeed for pity! 

 O man ! man ! what a hard-hearted wretch thou art ! I would here notice, 

 also, the very cruel practice prevalent at this season everywhere, of hanging 

 song-birds out of doors. The drafts of air constantly passing through their 

 wii-y dwellings, not only inflict on them serious injury, but render their inno- 

 cent lives bvirdensome to them. 



Before leaving Ealing, a sensible appetite pressed itself upon me. I as 

 sensibly satisfied it. A rural meal was it, and a frugal one ; rendered doubly 

 enjoyable by the possession of a hapjiy heart, (full of absent friends bi-ought 

 near,) and a body greatly benefited by exercise, a change of air, and a 

 change of scene. But the glass of ale is emptied, and I must progress. 



I now sti-etched out to the lovely locality of Hanger Hill, and was accom- 

 panied all the way by lovely little choristers. I had seen a funeral procession 

 pass me on the road. I had looked in at one of the windows of a mourning 

 coach. I had seen a countenance wan with bitter grief. Methought, as our 

 eyes met, that heart was broken. Meditating upon this, the bell " tolled ; " 

 and the solemn sound, borne on the breeze, caught my ear. I sighed. 

 Again, that sound ! Aye, — nor did it cease for full three quarters of an hour. 

 Three funerals, I had heard, were being " performed ; " and the knell of each 

 vibrated on my ear and heart, as I receded in the distance. * * * 



As I passed, I peeped in at Twyford Abbey, and its beautiful sequestered 

 grounds, A good-natured, arch-looking face had seen me enter, and smiled 

 at me as I came out again. It seemed to say, — " You are a traveller ; tired, 

 but heartily welcome." I felt, somehow, that I was ; and followed that face. 

 The face led me into a snug little apartment in a snug little hostelry, called 

 the " Fox and Goose," and placed before me such a delicious glass of 

 sparkling ale, that I drank it and the pretty face's " health " at the same 

 time. Honi soit qui mal y pense ! 



