KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



345 



We generally connect rapidity or slowness 

 of motion with the ideas we form of an ani- 

 mal's happiness. If, like the tortoise, it move 

 with slow and measured steps, we pity or 

 despise, as the mood may be, its melancholy, 

 sluggish condition ; and the poor persecuted 

 toad has probably incurred as much of the 

 odium so unjustly attached to it, by its inac- 

 tivity, as by its supposed loathsomeness. 



On the other hand, enjoyment seems al- 

 ways to be the concomitant of celerity of 

 motion. A fly dancing in the air, seems more 

 happy than the spider lurking in his den; 

 and the lark singing at " Heaven's gate," to 

 possess a more joyous existence than the snail, 

 which creeps almost imperceptibly upon a 

 leaf, or the mole which passes the hours of 

 brightness and sunshine in his dark caverns 

 underground. But these and all other ani- 

 mals are happy, each in its own way; and 

 the habits of one, constituted as the crea- 

 tures are, could form no source of felicity to 

 another, but the very reverse. 



Though activity may stimulate the appear- 

 ance of superior enjoyment, we may conceive 

 that, where it is excessive, the animal in which 

 it is so demonstrated must suffer much from 

 fatigue. This would be another mistake, in so 

 far as relates to animals in a state of nature. 

 The works of God are all perfect in their 

 kind ; but if an animal were formed to lead 

 a life of almost perpetual motion, and that 

 motion were accompanied or followed by 

 fatigue, the work would be imperfect. Take 

 the swallow as an example ; it is constantly 

 on the wing, except at night. From the 

 early morning to the downgoing of the sun, 

 it is for ever dashing through the air with 

 the rapidity of an arrow; but neither morn- 

 ing nor evening does it ever show one symp- 

 tom of weariness. 



It has a wing which never tires ; and at 

 night it betakes itself to repose — not worn 

 out by the fatigues of the day, but prepara- 

 tory for sleep after what is to it a whole- 

 some exercise. 



Uninm. 



ELOPEMENT —A HINT. 



Do ! listen, ladies ; and I'll tell you brief, 



A touching tale, and true as History. 

 The Wind and Leaf held dalliance— " Gentle 



Leaf," 

 Began the Wind, " awake and fly with me ! 



For thee I pass'd the beds where roses are ; 

 And though their whispers fragrant woo'd my 

 stay, 



And every little bud shone like a star, 

 I thought on thee — arise, and come away ! 



Thy sisters dark are sleeping in the dew, 

 I would not rouse their coldness with a sigh ; 



But thou, the beautiful, and I, the true, 

 Were meant for common passion,— let us fly !" 

 The Leaf complied ; and, ere a day was done, 

 Was flung aside— a thing to tread upon l—Tait. 



The Naturalist. No. 40. For June. 

 Groombridge & Sons. 



Among the varied articles that appear in 

 this number, is one on the " British Swallow," 

 from which we borrow a few notes. The 

 writer styles himself a sea-side naturalist, 

 and rejoices, it will be seen (as do most other 

 so-called " naturalists," in acts of brutality), 

 in his success at having shot an unfortunate 

 Alpine Swift, roving, free as air, in harmless 

 pursuit of its food. The name of a natural- 

 ist, now, is very properly associated with that 

 of a savage. They are, alas ! synonymous :— 



BRITISH SWALLOWS. 



We well remember, says the writer, the deep 

 interest we took in these birds as we watched 

 them flying along shore at the time of their arrival 

 in spring. Our Journal, from the second week of 

 April to the 1st of May, furnishes proofs of the 

 frequency of our observations respecting them ; 

 and a common source of wonder appears to have 

 been the immense number that swept past — all in 

 one direction — northwards. We conjectured they 

 had coasted along the shores of England, and 

 were proceeding to people our northern towns, 

 villages, and country-places, where we were sure 

 the glad presence of the Swallow had not been 

 hailed. And this may be illustrated by the fol- 

 lowing scene we witnessed : — 



Up to the 20th of April, 1848, not a Swallow 

 had been seen in the town or neighborhood of 

 Dunbar ; and in the morning of that day, just 

 about sunrise, when rambling by the sea-side 

 about a mile distant from the town, we observed, 

 by the aid of a glass, an immense concourse of 

 small birds out at sea, a long way off to the south- 

 east, but speedily approaching ; they were dis- 

 tinctly seen glancing in the light streaks on the 

 water, and in their flight inclining towards the 

 shore. When nearer us, we knew them to be the 

 Common Martlet or Window Swallow (Hirundo 

 urbica), and the main body of the flock flew 

 steadily past, giving off detachments now and 

 then, which steered landwards, and broke up into 

 smaller companies. A second and a third troop 

 of them appeared, and, like the first, flew steadily 

 onwards, without diverging in the main from their 

 flight northwards ; and on our return, we found 

 the town street alive with them flying to and fro. 

 In front of one occupied house were at least thirty 

 or forty, chirping and chattering around the 

 window corners bearing the remains of old nests; 

 and on different chimney tops we observed others 

 busied in arranging their plumage after their 

 journey. But this manner of appearing is not 

 usual ; generally speaking, a few scattered pairs 

 are the heralds, and even these may be seen for 

 some days before others arrive. We may remark, 

 however, that every season we have noticed these 

 migrations — flocks passing, and straggling parties 

 leaving them in the manner described. 



The Chimney Swallow (H. rustica), and the 

 Sand Martin) (II. riparia\ arrive about the same 

 time, generally a few days earlier, but in smaller 

 numbers ; the latter, indeed, mostly in pairs, 



