THE UNIVERSAL FAMILY PAPER FOR INTER-COMMUNICATIONS ON 



NATURAL HISTORY-POPULAR SCIENCE— THINGS IN GENERAL. 



Conducted by WILLIAM KIDD, of Hammersmith,— 



Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

 Birds; " "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" "The Aviary," &c. 



"thk OBJECT of our work is to make men WISER, without obliging them to turn over folios and 



QUARTOS.— TO FURNISH MATTER FOR THINKING AS WELL AS READING."— EVELYN. 



No. 34.— 1852. 



SATURDAY, AUGUST 21. 



Price 3d. 



Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Is. Id. 



RTJKAL NOTES.— No. I. 



MONTGOMERY— NORTH WALES. 



BY A TEMPLAR. 



The Wanderer, 

 Far from the city's hum must car-less go ; 

 Leaving behind him every sordid band 

 That links his soul to tilings that men have planned. 

 And 'neath some mighty mountain's giant shade 

 Gazing in awe-struck worship let him stand, 

 And mark on the broad landscape round him laid, 

 How small the paltry things " presumptuous man : 

 has made. 



Motley's Tales of the Cymry. 



We are just down for the " long vaca- 

 tion," having bade adieu for a few months 

 to our home within the walls of the old 

 " Temple." Our native Welsh air seems 

 doubly fresh and pure, after an incarceration 

 of six or seven months in the midst of dusty 

 law books. White of Selborne, and dear 

 old Waterton, now usurp the attention 

 latterly paid to the learned authors of 

 Stephens' Commentaries, and Coke upon 

 Littleton. And why should they not? 

 Recollect the saying, " All work and no play 

 makes Jack a dull boy." 



This morning we have chosen for our walk 

 the road which leads to Llandyssil, a little 

 village about three miles from this pretty 

 town. When we get a quarter of a mile on 

 our way, we change our mind ; and instead 

 of prosecuting our journey to the village, we 

 turn into the footpath which leads to the 

 " Freethe." 



The first field we go through, has a short 

 crop of barley ; but alas ! I fear a pretty 

 little yellow weed called " hedlock " claims 

 the greater share of the soil. By the bye, 

 a word or two about this said weed. In this 

 country nearly every corn-field is overrun 

 with the plant, which when in blossom very 

 much resembles the turnip. The farmers, 

 do what they will, cannot annihilate it, and 

 the consequence is, that when a stranger 

 comes into the country he immediately ex- 

 claims," What fine crops of turnips you have 



here ! " And well may he say so, for upon 

 looking from an eminence into the valleys 

 below, they appear clothed in yellow. As 

 far as appearance goes, I think it a very 

 pretty sight to see whole fields of yellow 

 waving in the breeze ; but I'm afraid the 

 farmer views this with a different eye. 



We arrive at the " Freethe, "a high hill, 

 clothed on one side by an immense larch 

 plantation ; on the other by short grass, and 

 moss, furze bushes, and fern. It is on the 

 latter side we first enter, gradually winding 

 our way along to a belt of Scotch fir trees. 

 At the top, we walk over the remains of an 

 old encampment ; the ground beneath our 

 feet, covered with innumerable species of 

 small flowering plants, vetches, white Dutch 

 clover, small kinds of dandelion, and various 

 others, unknown by name to us — botany, we 

 are sorry to say, not forming an item in our 

 list of accomplishments. Blue, pink, yellow, 

 red, and purple, make up the chief colors of 

 this carpet of nature. Let us sit down on 

 this delightful and fragrant bed, and listen 

 to the sounds of nature. On our left, we 

 have a common hive bee, revelling in the 

 sweets so bountifully presented to him. 

 Close to our feet, on a dead bit of grass, a 

 fly of the blue-bottle species is sunning 

 himself. His thorax and body are spotted 

 of a grey color, and he has large red eyes ; 

 prim little fellow! how he seems to enjoy 

 himself, apparently observing all that is 

 going on. Now he buzzes away and rests 

 upon a small stone ; then off he goes to a 

 dead stick,— then back again to his former 

 position. Merry little fly, how we wish that 

 we " lords of creation " were all as happy 

 as thou ! A little way off, a humble bee is 

 humming and sailing along about the waving 

 tops of the dandelion ; he never seems to 

 rest for an instant, but " hum-m-m-m " he 

 goes, till away he flies ; first sailing in 

 circles around our head, he after three or 

 four whirls takes his departure. Here comes 

 another little bee of a different kind ; his 

 thorax, a buff-brown. Look at his legs, 



Vol. II. 



