KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



109 



to dairymen that the milk and butter of cows are 

 rendered rank by the fallen leaves of autumn, 

 but the goats carefully pick up the leaves, whether 

 green or autumnal, of timber trees', of these they 

 prefer those of the oak and elm, and delight in 

 acorns and oak-apples. The waste produce of a 

 garden is exceedingly useful in the keep of a 

 goat. By them almost every refuse weed, all the 

 cuttings and clearings that are wheeled into the 

 rubbish-yard, are carefully picked over and con- 

 sumed. The trimmings of laurels and other 

 evergreens, pea haulms, cabbage-stalks, &c, are 

 all grateful variations in their food. In winter, 

 a little sainfoin, hay, or a few oats, keep them in 

 excellent condition. In summer, the mowings 

 of a small grass plot, watered with either com- 

 mon or sewage water, will, with the aid of 

 garden refuse, keep a goat from April to October. 

 In the Quarterly Journal of Agriculture, 1847, 

 p. 511, Mr. Fennel observes, ' When left to graze 

 for themselves, goats generally select for food 

 litter and slightly astringent plants, as the leaves 

 and buds of spurge, hemlock, birch, privet, birch- 

 cherry, and the tender tops of furze and heath.' 

 Want of space prohibits quotations from the 

 classics; I only add that, 'During winter, goats 

 will feed on indifferent haj^ or straw, furze, heath- 

 thistles, cabbage-leaves, potato-peelings, cold 

 boiled potatoes, old ship biscuits, or, in fact, 

 almost anything that is presented to them.' I 

 have repeatedly observed the gentleness and 

 playfulness of the female goats; the growing 

 kids follow one like a lamb, and by gentle and 

 kind treatment these animals accommodate them- 

 selves to any situation." — These particulars, Mr. 

 Editor, are very interesting, and are well worth 

 attentive consideration. — W. Andrews, Tring. 



[We have received another interesting com- 

 munication on this subject, from a correspondent 

 at Hey wood, near Manchester. We shall give 

 this, next week.l 



Notes during a July Ramble to Wanstead and 

 Hainault Forest, — Mr. Editor, I have ever been 

 one of those who love a forest ramble. I have 

 loved them from my boyhood, and they have 

 formed some of the happiest epochs of my life. 

 To day (July the fourth) being fine, I rose be- 

 times to gratify my wishes. I was not disap- 

 pointed. The morning was ushered in by an 

 unclouded sky; and though rather hot, it proved 

 to be one of those fine days that we who love 

 nature so much admire, perhaps the more so on 

 account of their scarcity, They seem like the 

 smiles that may even greet a disturbed home, 

 " few and far between ; " yet we like them the 

 more. They are days that we prize; for they 

 recal to us many a scene of our boyhood, when 

 on such a morning we have directed our careless 

 steps to the green woods, longing to reach the 

 friendly shade of the "wide-spreading oak." 

 When seated beneath it, what a paradise this 

 world then seemed ! The golden sun shed his 

 effulgence around; the gaudy butterflies, with 

 their wings of various dye, flitted on every side; 

 while numerous insect tribes filled the air with 

 their busy hum. The birds too, were making the 

 woods echo with their various concerts. Theirs 

 was "music" that we indeed loved to hear; but 

 the lark, above them all. He is a bird I have 



always admired. Many a time has he cheered 

 me on a lone March ramble, when the sun but 

 faintly struggled through the stormy clouds — 

 when the trees were devoid of leaves, and the 

 other tenants of the woods were dumb. No 

 wonder, then, that I love the lark ; but not in a 

 cage. No! It is unnatural! Mark him as he 

 rises from yon field ; how his notes swell as he 

 rises higher and higher! He seems to soar above 

 the world, till he becomes but a speck in the 

 wide ether; and then, the voluptuousness of his 

 song! But the prisoner in his cage, I have ever 

 fancied to be the mere ghost of him in air. But 

 I am digressing, and Hainault is yet to be 

 reached. So, after a substantial breakfast, I 

 began my pilgrimage. But first I may as well 

 state the particular branch of nature that formed 

 the impetus to my ramble — that branch was en- 

 tomology, a science that from a boy I was pas- 

 sionately fond of; and though certain events 

 have prevented me from following it as I could 

 have wished, yet it has always been a pleasing 

 recreation for my leisure hour. My ramble was 

 not a solitary one ; I had a friend to accompany 

 me that had once "dabbled" in the science. 

 Our road lay across the marsh through Temple 

 Mills, where, both summer and winter, are to be 

 seen lovers of the gentle art. It was not far 

 from here that the lark burst forth in the full 

 glory of his song, serenading us on our way to 

 Wanstead Park Wood, the scene of my earlier 

 rambles. Truly this is a pleasant spot, and one 

 I was loth to leave — with its open flats, dotted 

 here and there with a few trees and shrubs, its 

 shady thickets hard by; but above all, its noble 

 avenue of Elms leading to the park. Several of 

 these trees, this season, were bored by a species of 

 beetles, probably the Anobium striatum. The 

 caterpillars of the Lackey Moth were also very 

 numerous, covering the bushes with their webs. 

 Several of the commoner species of butterflies 

 were abundant ; indeed it is a locality that will 

 well repay a ramble to those who, like myself, are 

 partial to the insect tribes. In June, we have 

 here the Ino statices, or Green forester, a very 

 pretty Moth, and a very local one. The Dyp- 

 terygia pinastri or bird's-wing is another local 

 Moth, found here in June, and may be taken by 

 sugaring the trees of an evening, as may also (in 

 July) the Copper underwing (Amphipyra 

 pyramided) and numerous others; indeed if I 

 were to enumerate the Hawk Moths, and 

 Coleoptera, I should be guilty of trespassing too 

 far on your valuable space. Leaving this loca- 

 lity, we rambled down the Chigwell Road, 

 cheered by the song of the birds on either side, 

 till, about noon, we arrived at Hainault. Before 

 enteringtheForest, we partookof some refreshment 

 at the " Crown and Crooked Billet " situated on 

 the top of the hill. I merely mention this here, 

 on account of the fine view obtainable over the 

 surrounding country from the gardens beside the 

 house. Leaving this place we entered the Forest, 

 so celebrated for its number of Oaks — alas, now 

 no more ! the cupidity of man has laid them low ; 

 and by the side of where they once stood so 

 nobly, there they lay — their bare poles bleaching 

 in the sun. They say, it is necessary to clear this 

 Forest. A lover of nature cannot but regret it. 

 The insects found here are numerous in the 



