THE ROOKS AND ROOKERIES OF LONDON. 197 
from my window in the Temple that looks upon a grove where they have 
made a colony in the midst of the city. At the commencement of spring 
the Rookery, which during the continuance of winter seemed to have been 
deserted or only guarded by about five or six, like old soldiers in a garrison, 
now begins to be once more frequented ; and in a short time all the bustle and 
hurry of business is fairly commenced ; where these numbers resided during 
the winter is not easy to guess, perhaps in the trees and hedgerows to be 
nearer their food. In spring, however, they cultivate their native trees; 
and in the places where they were themselves hatched they prepare to 
propagate a future progeny.” 
The birds whose habits are thus so graphically described must 
have been in the height of happiness, and in the bustle of their 
business, when poor Goldsmith was on his deathbed, and their 
voices may have been his funeral requiem when he was placed in 
his grave in the Temple burial-ground, on the evening of Saturday, 
April 9th, 1774, almost overshadowed by those elm trees— 
«Where the Bat ‘circled, and the Rooks reposed, 
Their wars suspended and their councils closed.” 
Twenty-five years ago the Rookery in College Gardens, Doctor’s 
Commons, still existed. Hone, writing of it in April, 1826, in his 
‘Every Day Book’ (vol.i., p. 494), has the following anecdote 
concerning it :— 
“‘ Amongst the deliramenta of the learned, which have amused mankind, 
the following instance merits a particular rank. Some years ago there 
were several large elm trees in the College Garden behind the Ecclesiastical 
Court, Doctor’s Commons, in which a number of Rooks had taken up their 
abode, furming in appearance a sort of convocation of aérial ecclesiastics. 
A young gentleman who lodged in an attic, and was their close neighbour, 
frequently entertained himself with thinning this covey of black game by 
means of a crossbow. On the opposite side lived a curious old civilian, 
who, observing from his study that the Rooks often dropped senseless from 
their perch, or as it may be said, without using a figure, ‘ hopp’d the twig,’ 
making no sign, nor any sign being made to his vision to account for the 
phenomenon, set his wits to work to consider the cause. It was probably 
during a profitless time of peace, and the doctor, having plenty of leisure, 
weighed the matter over and over, till he was at length fully satisfied that 
he had made a great ornithological discovery, that its promulgation would 
give wings to his fame, and that he was fated, by means of these Rooks, 
to say, ‘volito vivus per ora verum.’ His goosequill and foolscap were 
quickly in requisition, and he actually wrote a treatise stating circum- 
