48 The Naturalist. 



senses, and judge with his own understanding, those stars of the darkness 

 of intellectual night vanished away, as is the case with their namesakes of 

 the natural sky." (p. 5.) 



If, gentle reader, your faculties are not so bewildered by 

 the perusal of this passage, that you are unable to collect 

 your ideas, you will probably ask, Is this written by a "lady," 

 or by an " eminent scientific man ? " Now, we would not, 

 for the world, be guilty of imputing it to either. There is 

 only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous, and to which 

 . But we will not criticise unfairly : here is another speci- 

 men of the same writer's, exhibiting rather more consideration 

 for ordinary capacities : — 



"For in those warm and stilly days, when not a breath of wind rustles the 

 foliage, or breaks the glassy surface of the brook, the kingfisher may be 

 observed sitting for hours together upon some withered branch or water- 

 encircled stone, until a fish comes within the range of his vision. Then off 

 it darts with the rapidity of an arrow and the radiance of a meteor, and 

 seldom misses its aim. If the fish is small, it is swallowed during the flight; 

 but if it is too large for that purpose, then the bird betakes itself to some 

 rock, stone, or firm portion of the bank, where it speedily kills the fish by 

 hewing into its skull with its strong and powerful beak : after this, the tren- 

 chant edges of the same instrument may soon divide the fish into such 

 portions as can be swallowed ; and the feast is then over." (p. 195.) 



Now, without presuming in the slightest degree to place our 

 own experience in these matters in competition with Mr. 

 Mudie's, we cannot quite understand the policy which induces 

 the kingfisher to hammer away at the skull of the unfortunate 

 fish that has come within its clutches, when slicing it up with 

 its trenchant bill would appear to answer the purpose in a 

 much more effectual manner. Were it known to walk off' with 

 a jack of six or eight pounds' weight, we might, on such oc- 

 casions, give it credit for adopting some extra precautions to 

 prevent anything unpleasant occurring. Here we would re- 

 mark, en passant, that, from what is known respecting the 

 general habits and disposition of the kingfisher, we should be 

 greatly inclined to doubt whether it ever really considers its 

 repast finished until, besides cutting up its fish, it has also 

 swallowed the pieces. 



Mr. Mudie's imagination is rather fertile; and, in some of 

 his ornithological descriptions, he is apt to confound his own 

 poetical feelings with the habits of the feathered race. Poetical 

 license, however, ought not to exceed reasonable limits. 

 Hundreds of times have we watched the kingfishers in spots 

 where there was no lack of withered branches, no scarcity of 

 water-encircled stones ; yet the usual resting-place of these 

 classic birds was some bare stump, or, perhaps, the square 

 top of an oaken pile, jutting a foot or two above the water. 



