248 OLD TOKENS OF WIND AND WEATHER 



from the village. It could hardly be supposed that 

 this bird, not larger than a lark, is capable of doing 

 serious injury; yet I this morning witnessed a rick 

 of barley, standing in a detached field, entirely 

 stripped of its thatching, which this bunting ef- 

 fected by seizing the end of the straw, and delibe- 

 rately drawing it out, to search for any grain the 

 ear might yet contain ; the base of the rick being 

 entirely surrounded by the straw, one end resting 

 on the ground, the other against the mow, as it slid 

 down from the summit, and regularly placed as if 

 by the hand ; and so completely was the thatching 

 pulled off, that the immediate removal of the corn 

 became necessary. The sparrow and other birds 

 burrow into the stack, and pilfer the corn ; but the 

 deliberate operation of unroofing the edifice appears 

 to be the habit of this bunting alone. 



Old simplicities, tokens of wind and weather, 

 and the plain observances of rural life, are every 

 where waning fast to decay. Some of them may 

 have been fond conceits; but they accorded with 

 the ordinary manners of the common people, and 

 marked times, seasons, and things, with sufficient 

 truth for those who had faith in them. Little as we 

 retain of these obsolete fancies, we have not quite 

 abandoned them all ; and there are yet found among 

 our peasants, a few who mark the blooming of the 

 large white lily (lilium candidum), and think that 

 the number of its blossoms on a stem will indicate 

 the*price of wheat by the bushel for the ensuing 

 year, each blossom equivalent to a shilling. We 



