WINTER SHIFTS. 231 



get so weak that they are unable to extricate them- 

 selves from the hedges into which they fluttered 

 out of your way as you tramped past. 



The plovers make for the lowlands, where they 

 wait for better times. Starlings betake themselves 

 to any uncovered grounds they can find near the 

 edge of tidal rivers, excepting a few that remain and 

 come with the sparrows to feed near our doors. 

 Keats's beautiful lines come into one's mind, sug- 

 gesting so much in so few words : 



" St Agnes' Eve ah, bitter chill it was ! 

 The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold. 

 The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass ; 

 And silent was the flock in woolly fold." 



Here we have hard bitter weather in four lines of 

 poetry; and I could fancy Keats kept an owl at 

 some time or other as a pet, and that he perfectly 

 understood how the bird's plumage is disposed on 

 its body. The manner of this is somewhat remark- 

 able in long stripes, as it were. I have seen my 

 own favourite owl stand in front of me, and throw 

 his breast - feathers on each side of him just as 

 a waistcoat is thrown open and aside. The plum- 

 age is very loose on all parts of his body, so that 



