OUTSIDE LONDON. 233 



having brought in their verdict, departed, and the 

 dead bird was left alone. 



In falling out of the elm, the rook had alighted 

 partly on his side and partly on his back, so that he 

 could only flutter one wing, the other being held 

 down by his own weight. He had probably died 

 from picking up poisoned grain somewhere, or from 

 a parasite. The weather had been open, and he 

 could not have been starved. At a distance, the 

 rook's plumage appears black; but close at hand it 

 will be found a fine blue-black, glossy, and handsome. 



These peacocks are the best " rain-makers " in 

 the place; whenever they cry much, it is sure to 

 rain ; and if they persist day after day, the rain is 

 equally continuous. From the wall by the barn, or 

 the elm-branch above their cry resounds like the 

 wail of a gigantic cat, and is audible half a mile 

 or more. In the summer, I found one of them, 

 a peacock in the full brilliance of his colours, on 

 a rail in the hedge under a spreading maple bush. 

 His rich-hued neck, the bright light and shadow, 

 the tall green meadow grass, brought together the 

 finest colours. It is curious that a bird so distinctly 

 foreign, plumed for the Asiatic sun, should fit so well 

 with English meads. His splendid neck immediately 

 pleases, pleases the first time it is seen, and on the 

 fiftieth occasion. I see these every day, and always 

 stop to look at them ; the colour excites the sense of 

 beauty in the eye, and the shape satisfies the idea 

 of form. The undulating curve of the neck is at once 

 approved by the intuitive judgment of the mind, and 

 it is a pleasure to the mind to reiterate that judgment 



