114 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



covered with pollen ; sharp little fellow ! see 

 how he buries his whole body in that little 

 yellow flower ; out again, now in another, 

 off again, now at our feet, then at our back, 

 buzzing away, and losing not a moment's 

 time — a pattern for the idle of our land. 



Let us now go to the top of the hill. We 

 will take our station on our accustomed seat 

 — the stump of an old fir tree. Tis the 

 hour of noon. The genial warmth of the 

 sun brings forth whole hosts of the insect 

 world, and the swallows take their fill. 



" At such an hour, who feels not in his soul 

 A spirit worshipping all nature? pure 

 And earthless, if the soul be given from 



heaven ; 

 And who that feels his soul can doubt? 



Sure this, 

 The power to feel, to love the beautiful, 

 Is of that heavenly essence the most hea- 

 venly." 



Far below us, and spread out like a map, 

 lies the fertile " vale of the Severn." Here 

 and there a gentleman's mansion, surrounded 

 by its ornamental grounds, presents itself to 

 our view. The gently- flowing river winds 

 its way through fields waving with heavy 

 crops of ripening grain. At a bend in the 

 river, we see a herd of cattle ; some browsing 

 the sweet grass, others sheltering them- 

 selves under the overhanging boughs of a 

 wide- spreading oak, — while others again are 

 standing up to their knees in the river. At 

 the foot of the hill, just below us, a wagon 

 heavily laden with new-made hay is winding 

 its way through a fine field of wheat ; the 

 heads of the horses scarcely visible, from the 

 height of the corn. In a field further on, 

 we perceive a drove of young heifers ; some 

 grazing, others lying down chewing the cud, 

 — all looking happy and contented. Raise 

 we up our eyes from this lovely valley, and 

 they rest upon the summits of a line of hills 

 taking their rise near the town of Welsh- 

 pool ; behind these again, we have other 

 lines of hills, and more again beyond these ; 

 until a misty haze shuts out our further 

 view. We could go on till doomsday, de- 

 scribing the varied features of the landscape, 

 but we hear a voice at our elbow crying 

 " enough." 



We love to roam on this hill, and listen to 

 the sound of the wind rustling amidst the 

 leaves of the trees, stretched out at full 

 length upon the flowered carpet, with our 

 eyes peering aloft into the soft-blue sky ; 

 we think of that delightful study which we 

 have from our youth up ardently loved, — 

 the study of Nature,— and we ever think of 

 the wondrous Hand that brought all things 

 into being, and our natural impulse causes 

 us to exclaim, " Wonderful and marvellous 

 are thy works, Lord ! in wisdom hast thou 

 made them all " 



As we ramble on the side of the hill, we 

 see several irregular lines or ridges, running 

 along the ground, about two inches wide — 

 the grass on the surface being decayed, 

 which makes the course they take more ap- 

 parent. They are the handiwork of a well- 

 known miner — the Mole. Some of these 

 underground passages may be traced for a 

 distance of fifty or sixty yards, by the brown 

 color of the grass above. There are people 

 who have the audacity to deny this animal 

 the power of sight ; but we can safely assure 

 them that, from attentively watching at 

 several times the habits of the little crea- 

 ture, we have been enabled to prove the 

 contrary. For instance, upon coming sud- 

 denly upon one while on the surface of the 

 ground, we have seen it put on the appear- 

 ance of death, turning on its back and re- 

 maining perfectly motionless. We have 

 then taken it up in our hands and placed it 

 upon an open grass field, and retired for 

 about ten or twelve yards and watched it 

 attentively. In about a minute or so, we 

 have noticed the animal begin to move, turn 

 its head about, aud make very rapidly for a 

 bunch of high grass. It is very singular 

 that, if the animal have no eyesight, it 

 should nevertheless, in this instance, have 

 been able to make its way straight to the 

 shelter of a tuft of grass. 



On a fine summer's evening, our delight 

 is at its height when we station ourself on 

 this hill, with the pure air of Heaven blow- 

 ing from the high mountains to the north- 

 west — Plinlimmon, Cadir Idris, &c. O 

 ye Londoners ! who are obliged to make 

 the dense city your abode for the term of 

 your natural lives, — how sorry we feel for 

 you, toiling from morn till night, and breath- 

 ing in a close and confined atmosphere. 

 What would your exclamation be, if you 

 could be transferred with bandaged eyes to 

 the spot on which we are now standing? 

 Would that every man of you could see the 

 lovely view, and feel the pleasure, we do at 

 this moment ! But alas ! I fear many are 

 too busily occupied in the (to them) more 

 pleasant occupation of counting out £ s. d. 



The sparrow-hawk frequents this hill, and 

 oftentimes you may see two or three float- 

 ing motionless in mid-air with expanded 

 wings. The titlark and yellow hammer also 

 honor the place with their presence ; and 

 their notes may be heard all the day long. 

 At intervals, during the day, a party of 

 noisy jackdaws from the " Old Castle " pay 

 a visit, and make the place echo with their 

 clamor. They alight on the side of the 

 hill, and appear to enjoy the society of the 

 sheep, always keeping close to them and 

 giving a friendly " caw " every now and 

 then. Under the stones scattered over the 

 face of the hill, vve find many kinds of in- 



