KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



151 



snipe could swim. I was out shooting in 

 Stalloe meadows, and winged one of these 

 birds, which fluttered to a small stream of 

 water about a yard and a half wide ; and 

 when I came up to the bank, I was not a 

 little surprised to see him paddling to the 

 other side, uponreaching which he very coolly 

 walked up the bank and hid himself in a bush, 

 where on crossing the stream, 1 found him. 



On the evening of the 6th, I heard a thrush 

 singing delightfully in the trees by the 

 " Cottage. " I wondered much at this, as it 

 was very cold and frosty. 



" Duchess, " our old mastiff, eats snow 

 when out walking with me, and seems to relish 

 it much. 



Bullfinches congregate together. I noticed 

 a flock of twelve, or more, among the young 

 larch trees at the top of the " Freethe " 

 plantation, and several ox-eyes and tomtits 

 were with them, apparently eating the young 

 buds, or searching for insects. Brown linnets 

 also congregate together, and search the 

 stubble fields ; as do also piefinches, larks, 

 and yellow-hammers. 



On the 11th, while in the " Kennel Wood" 

 at Fronffraith, I turned over a large flat stone, 

 which lay among a lot of moss, under a larch- 

 fir tree ; and, instead of seeing a beetle or 

 two, three mice scampered away. Being 

 taken by surprise, and thinking they were 

 an early litter of young rats, I killed two 

 of them ; but, shocking to relate, upon taking 

 up one of them, I found it to be a pretty 

 little dormouse. I can hardly describe my 

 feelings of regret, when I saw the sad work 

 I had committed ; for I should have endea- 

 vored to capture them and place them 

 in a cage, for the rest of the winter. Our 

 woodman's wife has one in a little cage, which 

 was caught, last autumn, in a nest in a nut 

 tree. She feeds it with nuts. 



I observe that coots, when suddenly 

 flushed, will, at times, rise high in the air, 

 and fly over trees and hedges. 



On the 12th, I was very much struck with 

 the peculiarity existing in the track of a hare 

 in the snow. At intervals of twenty yards 

 or so, she apparently went round and round 

 in circles ; and after making several false 

 starts, proceeded onwards. It struck me that 

 the animal had resorted to this method to 

 endeavor to " throw out" any dog that might 

 follow her. 



February 13th. — The thermometer stood 

 at 30 degrees, in doors. 



On the 17th, the chaffinch sung, for the first 

 time this year. He and his mate frequent 

 the pear tree on the lawn. The missel 

 thrushes also frequent the old holly-tree, and 

 eat the berries. I saw two partridges paired 

 above the town. 



February 23rd. — Hedge-dunnock sings. 

 There is an old saying, that all have different 



tastes ; so, I suppose that I may be excused, 

 when I say that I delight in a dark windy 

 day — the ground hard as flint, and the snow 

 driving before the wintry blast. It is at 

 such a time, accompanied by a faithful dog, 

 that I sally out and seek the depths of a wood, 

 or the bleak and barren hill, where, under 

 the shelter of a tree or rock, I can muse the 

 time away, while — 



Amid the crags, and scarce discerned on high, 

 Hangs here and there a sheep, by its faint bleat 

 Discovered ; while the astonished eye looks up, 

 And marks it, on the precipice's brink, 

 Pick its scant food secure. 



And oh ! 

 What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublkne, 

 Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast ; 



and hear no sound save the bleat of the sheep, 

 the hoarse croak of the raven, and the 

 howling wind ! It is then that the mind 

 becomes rapt in thought, and the ro- 

 mantic Welshman may be forgiven the fancy 

 that, in the moaning blast, he hears the sound 

 of his native harp, touched by the hand of an 

 ancient bard ; and his fancy still increases, 

 until before him in the dim mist is seen 

 A form thin and spare, 

 And white as snow his beard and hair ; 

 Back from his brow his white locks flow, 

 And the high opened forehead show ; 

 O'er his pale cheek rich roses fly, 

 And more than youth illumes his eye. 



As I wend my way homewards, I meet the 

 sturdy laborer, retiring from his daily work, 

 whistling some well-known air — no doubt 

 thinking of his snug little cot, his wife, and 

 children. And those pretty lines of Gold- 

 smith are called to mind : - 



Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though 



small, 

 He finds his little lot the lot of all ; 

 Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, 

 To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; 

 No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, 

 To make him loathe his vegetable meal. 



John Matthew Jones, M.Z.S. 



LOVE,— FOR THE SAKE OF LOVE. 



" Love, for love's sake" — 0, what sweet words 



are these ! 

 And what sound sense ! Love, for love's sake ! 



if all 

 Would do but this, how many miseries 

 Man would escape, that to his lot now fall! 

 How many sweet thoughts, what felicities, 

 What joyous things would hold him in fond 



thrall ! 

 But, following some toad-blooded Mammonite, 

 He marries not save gold comes with his bride : 

 Portionless virtue now brings no delight, 

 Economy has set love's sweets aside : 

 Poor beauty finds no favor in his sight; 

 Love is his shame, that used to be his pride. 

 Yet grief is his, while they are grief above, 

 Who love each other foe the sake of love. 



