The Zoologist — November, 1873. 8777 



History, that I was able to appreciate the full extent of his out-door 

 experience and accurate knowledge of the notes and habits of even 

 our least familiar British birds. 



By daybreak of the morning after my arrival we were off to a 

 large beech plantation, the only haunt in that neighbourhood of 

 the wood warbler {Sylvia sylvicola), so local in its habits, and for 

 the first time, from the topmost branches of the trees, I heard the 

 peculiar and unmistakeable note of this species. Later in the day 

 we listened to the song of the wood lark by the covert side, whose 

 every haunt seemed familiar to him ; or on the open " brecks," with 

 the aid of a good glass, watched the actions of the stone curlew, so 

 difficult of approach, and examined such nests, both of the lapwing 

 and curlew, as had been previously found by the shepherds. The 

 rich meadows and sedgy banks of the stream had other nests to be 

 visited, which led to many an anecdote worthy of record ; and, like 

 a true naturalist, his observations were by no means confined to 

 birds alone, but extended as well to botanical objects and the habits 

 of insects and our smaller Mammalia. In the dusk of the evening 

 we again skirted the heath and plantations where 



" High in air and poised upon bis wings 

 Unseen, the soft, enamoured wood lark sings," 



and watched the amorous play of the nightjars, striking their wings 

 over their backs, with a clearly perceptible sound, or uttering their 

 jarring notes as they flitted past. It was indeed a day to be 

 remembered, in such companionship, and its chief gratification for 

 him, I know, consisted in having shown me two or three species 

 of birds with whose habits, owing to their very local distribution, 

 I was till then but little acquainted. But even that long summer's 

 day had not exhausted our enjoyment of rural sights and sounds, 

 since, long after midnight, by the open window of my room, we sat 

 listening, as I have elsewhere attempted to describe it, to the 

 tremulous whistling of the curlews, and the wail of the lapwings, 

 from the adjacent "brecks;" whilst, in strange contrast to their 

 wild clamour, the nightingale poured forth its melody from the 

 garden, and as the soft night air came in upon us, laden with the 

 scent of the honeysuckle, the paths, shrubs and buildings were 

 bathed in the brightness of the full moon. 



It was here also that I first became aware of his skill as an 

 amateur taxidermist, his thoughtful kindness having led him, during 

 his stay at Harling, to procure for me certain specimens I had 



