282 MORE POT-POURRI 



further, that little or nothing has been done by way of 

 remedy for that defect in the attempts made to alter or 

 reform that system.' It is as a slight help in that 

 direction that I name these charming modern natural 

 history books, full of observation and love of Nature, told 

 in the most simple way. This pretty little * Invitation,' 

 at the beginning of the book, seems to be written by a 

 relative of the author, as it is signed ' S. Whiting ' : 



Come, leave the city's toil and din, 



The weary strife, 

 The cankering cares and sordid aims. 



That deaden life. 



Come, leave behind this restless rush, 



This anxious strain ; 

 Dame Nature tenders healing balm 



For tired brain. 



Come, by yon grassy, shady lane 



Best tired eyes, 

 On yonder meadows vernal green, 



On cloudless skies. 



Come to the woods, where Oak and Beech 



Their shadows fling. 

 Come, weary toiler, rest awhile 



Where wild birds sing. 



I cannot understand anybody living in the country 

 and not taking a special interest in birds from the sky- 

 lark, the smallest bird that soars, to the water wag-tail, 

 the smallest bird that walks. The constant fight always 

 goes on as to whether birds in a garden do good or harm. 

 Nothing convinces my gardener that w r e do not suffer 

 more than our neighbours from the non-killing of bull- 

 finches. Poor little things ! the harm they do is terribly 

 more apparent than the good, which has to be taken on 

 faith ; and this I do. 



As I stated before, I have lately been growing Water- 



