88 MIGRATION. 



as he was walking with some friends, under Merton- 

 wall, on a remarkably hot noon, either in the last 

 week in December, or the first week in January, he 

 espied three or four swallows huddled together on 

 the moulding of one of the windows of that college. 

 I have frequently remarked that swallows are seen 

 later at Oxford than elsewhere : is it owing to the 

 vast, massy buildings of that place, to the many 

 waters round it, or to what else ? 



When I used to rise in a morning last autumn, 

 and see the swallows and martins clustering on the 

 chimneys and thatch of the neighbouring cottages, 

 I could not help being touched with a secret delight, 

 mixed with some degree of mortification: with de- 

 light, to observe with how much ardour and punc- 

 tuality those poor little birds obeyed the strong 

 impulse towards migration, or hiding, imprinted on 

 their minds by their great Creator ; and with some 

 degree of mortification, when I reflected that, after 

 all our pains and inquiries, we are yet not quite cer- 

 tain to what regions they do migrate ; and are still 

 farther embarrassed to find that some actually do not 

 migrate at all. 



These reflections made so strong an impression 

 on my imagination, that they became productive of 

 a composition, that may perhaps amuse you for a 

 quarter of an hour when next I have the honour of 

 writing to you. 



