THE EUROPEAN JOURNALS 



285 



cnce 

 [ was 

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 rcnce 

 to my 

 raving 

 , these 



•k what 

 /e con- 

 cere- 

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 cty clays, 

 ighed at 

 ere, thou 



Mr. 3.F- 

 afternoon 



old him I 



nt on the 

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heard his 

 [dest man 1 

 land let us 



;t stranger 



[this after- 

 \ deliver to 

 [exclaimed, 

 uced a very 

 1 Larks, fuU 

 Idy. T^^^' 



eyes sparkled with fear, their little bodies were agitated, 

 the motions of their breasts showed how their hearts pal- 

 pitated ; their plumage was shabby, but they were Wood 

 Larks, and I saw them with a pleasure bordering on 

 frenzy. Wood Larks ! The very word carried me from 

 this land into woods indeed. These sweet birds were 

 sent to me from York, by my friend John Backhouse, an 

 ornithologist of real merit, and with them came a cake of 

 bread made of a peculiar mixture, for their food. I so 

 admired the dear captives that for a while I had a strong 

 desire to open their pr ,on, and suffer them to soar over 

 London towards the woodlands dearest to them ; and yet 

 the selfishness belonging to man alone made me long to 

 keep them. Ah ! man ! what a brute thou art ! — so often 

 senseless of those sweetest feelings that ought to ornament 

 our species, if indeed we are the " lords of creation." 



Cambridge, March 3. I arrived at this famous Univer- 

 sity town at half-past four this afternoon, after a tedious 

 ride of eight and a half hours from London, in a heavy 

 coach in which I entered at the White Horse, Fetter 

 Lane, and I am now at the Blue Boar, and blue enough 

 am I. But never mind, I was up truly early, took a good 

 walk in Regent's Park, and was back before any one in 

 the house was up. Sully took breakfast with me, and 

 took charge of my Larks, and saw me off. I thought we 

 never would get rid of London, it took just one hour to 

 get clear of the city. What a place ! Yet many persons 

 live there solely because they like it. At last the re- 

 freshing country air filled my lungs; I saw with pleasure 

 many tender flowers peeping out of the earth, anxious to 

 welcome the approaching spring. The driver held confi- 

 dences with every grog shop between London and Cam- 

 bridge, and his purple face gave powerful evidences that 

 malt liquor is more enticing to him than water. The 

 country is flat, but it was country, and I saw a few lambs 

 gambolling by their timorous dams, a few Rooks digging 



