290 COUNTRY RAMBLES. 



marvellous invention has been brought to light during the fast 

 closing century. There are "booms" almost continually; goodness 

 only knows what human life will be like unto a hundred years hence 1 

 But as to that, those of the present generation need not trouble 

 themselves. 



The country side is being encroached upon in many districts by 

 the speculative builder, but there is ample room for Natural History 

 study for many, many years to come. We may ramble week by week 

 in the same neighbourhood, often and often down the same lanes, 

 through the same old woods, across the well-known fields, yet every 

 time something crops up of never-failing interest. We never weary 

 at this barren season of hearing the Robin and the Throstle singing, 

 the Chaffinch 4> pinking" and the Rooks "crooing," the Hedge Sparrow 

 " cheeping," and the Pied Wagtail crying " cheese it, cheese it, cheese- 

 it," as we disturb the gentle tripping creature as he is nimbly running 

 over the newly turned-up clods of earth, or of the Nuthatch whistling, 

 the chattering Starling, the noisy Ring Dove, the scampering Hare, 

 the frolicsome Rabbits, the creeping mouse-like Jenny Wren, the 

 agile Stoat or Weasel, the darting Jay, the swift-winged Kingfisher; 

 these all contribute to the familiar sights and sounds. 



We never tire of Nature; whenever we open her book a new 

 page is presented to view. We may have seen the impression before, 

 but now we imagine we see it in broader, deeper lines, only to 

 find shortly after that this again was but an impression. Just now 

 one's thoughts turn to the various insects, chrysalides, and grubs 

 harbouring in crannies and crevices, and underground, in a torpid 

 state. Thousands upon thousands of minute creatures are stored 

 away in profound slumber, sleeping until the Spring. They sleep, 

 but it is no ordinary slumber, for the allwise goddess, Nature, has 

 so ordained it that in this Winter torpor cold or frost rarely aftects 

 them. To all appearances when disturbed in the midst of their 

 Winter sleep these creatures are lifeless; but Spring tells a different 

 tale. It is very wonderful, and the more so when one reflects upon 

 the fact that many winged creatures emerge from the chrysalis state 

 daring the night so as to be prepared for their aerial flights on their 

 natal day. How do the apparently insensible mites know when it is 

 night? It is instinct, or sense, or what? All around us, therefore, in 

 most unlikely places perchance, are secreted these wonderful creatures 

 which will gladden our sense of sight next Summer as the Cuckoo 

 will our sense of hearing. 



