2 ORNITHOLOGICAL RAMBLES. 



swampy flats of Port Meadow, or exploring the 

 sedgy banks of the Isis near Sandford Lasher, al- 

 most forgetting our hastily -moored skiffs in a pro- 

 longed search after the nest of the water-hen, or 

 the airy fabric of the reed-warbler. Once more 

 are we seated beneath the old rook-trees in Christ 

 Church meadow, arid congratulating the dark pro- 

 prietors of the village overhead that their fortu- 

 nate settlement is within the protective influence 

 of academic laws. I have a lively recollection, 

 too, of our delightful correspondence, when, in 

 return for my rough notes from the west of Ire- 

 land, I received such an interesting account of 

 your neighbourhood. But, to turn from retrospect 

 to reality, I rejoice to think that our intercourse 

 has only been interrupted, not annihilated, by the 

 lapse of years. 



You are quite correct in supposing that my pre- 

 dilection for my old pursuits is as strong as ever. 

 It is true that I no longer listen to the roar of the 

 Atlantic, as when I used to indite ornithological 

 epistles to you from the wilds of Erris, but the 

 influence of early habits has survived every vicis- 

 situde of time and place. 



The eagle and the grouse, indeed, are gone; 

 and to the dark, misty mountains, and rock-bound 

 coast of Mayo, have succeeded the bright Downs, 

 the wooded valleys, and the smiling shores of 



