PREFACE. 



HE simple character of the writings of Gilbert 

 White have, perhaps, in these latter days 

 somewhat deterred people from reading him. 

 They seem so very simple, just as a boy 

 might snatch a bloom of horse-chestnut and 

 bring it home ; so very easy to do that. And 

 what is there in a chestnut bough when you have got it ? In 

 these times there is a certain amount of feeling abroad that all 

 books of information must be written with a marked hardness 

 of style. They must abound in long words and sentences that 

 come out with a slow, crushed motion, like a rail from the 

 rolling-mill. More particularly is this the case with books of 

 what is called popularised knowledge — accurate, comprehen- 

 sive, fitted in and square, like the mosaic tiles now so common 

 in grates, and about as charming. They contain everything ; 

 they tell you in every page they are teaching you, and leave you 

 without a single idea fixed in the memory. If any one accus- 

 tomed to such heavily-edited volumes picks up the NaHiral 

 History of Selborne^ it is almost like a shock. The sense of 

 repose is at first taken for lack of ability — the author is not one 

 of the " ablest " writers of the day ; very inferior 1 



"This bird much resembles the white throat, but has a more 

 white or rather silvery breast and belly ; is restless and active, 

 like the willow-wrens, and hops from bough to bough, examining 

 every part for food ; it also runs up the stems of the crown 

 imperials, and putting its head into the bells of those flowers, 

 sips the liquor which stands in the nectarium of each petal." 

 Such is his way of putting a pretty little incident, and I want 



