KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. 



69 



in the dense city, amid the roll of carriages, 

 and the vociferations of jostled passengers. 



Then to sit and see the sun set upon such 

 a tranquil scene ; the blue smoke rising in 

 unbended pillars and mixing with the deep 

 foliage ; the sloping beam gilding a distant 

 rivulet, or bathing in crimson the top of a 

 far-off wood ; the church spire, rising in its 

 grey antiquity, and looking down upon the 

 lovely groves scattered at its base ; the dim 

 outline of the hills, the faint mist spreading 

 over the valleys, a bell just heard from some 

 neighboring village, the falling weir, the bay 

 of a distant mastiff, the clap of an old gate, 

 the song of the ploughboy returning home ! 



Live not all these images in the heart, 

 chasing away even care while we contem- 

 plate them, and throwing a soothing tran- 

 quility over the soul, a rest which we re- 

 member, a poetry which owns no words', a 

 delight which can never be forgotten? — 

 Thomas Miller. 



MOSE SIGNS OF WIKTEE. 



The wanderers of Heaven 



Each to his home retires ; save those that love 

 To take their pastime in the troubled air." 



'lis now that the severity of the season causes 

 the busy bustling wren, that modest hedge- 

 chanter, to draw nearer to the haunts of man. 

 The skylark and the pipit alone, of all our little 

 songsters, scorn the shelter of the grove, and 

 crouch lonely behind some lowly clod or stone. 

 The latter habitually leaves the uplands for the 

 sea-coast on the approach of winter, whilst the 

 former only does so on the approach of snowy 

 weather. Their local shiftings are finely marked 

 in the midland counties ; the flocks of buntings, 

 finches, and linnets gradually increase in number, 

 haunting the fields and road-sides by day, and 

 resorting to ivy and other evergreens to roost. 

 When snowstorms cover up the seeds of weeds 

 and scattered grains, they thickly congregate about 

 farmeries and rickyards. 



The raven is now rarely seen in the cultivated 

 districts, but the carrion crow, which so strongly 

 resembles him, maintains his ground pretty well, 

 notwithstanding all the gamekeeper's wiles to 

 shoot or entrap him. There is an energy in 

 the look and flight of this bird, and his^; harsh 

 call-notes have a tone of independence which 

 will ever command the admiration of all unpre- 

 judiced men who can overlook his deeds of rapine 

 on. game and young lambs. During snowstorms, 

 these birds are more abundant in the cultivated 

 districts, and a small party searching the desolate 

 and deserted fields for some dead bird or beast, 

 and bowing and calling to each other from the 

 hedgerow trees, are very, characteristic features 

 of the season. So, also, are the beautiful hooded 

 crows, wherever they are found. The lively 

 jackdaws generally herd with the neighboring 

 rooks: in some places they roost in their favorite 

 old buildings, and in others amongst rooks in 

 their old ancestral trees. The latter do much 

 damage to fields of wheat ; if a little hillock is 



swept clear of snow by the wind, every plant is 

 stocked up ; clovers and fields of turnip are also 

 attacked. Their winter habits are very interest- 

 ing : they leave their roost shortly after daybreak, 

 and when their feeding-ground is far distant they 

 mount aloft to pursue a direct course; if the 

 weather is likely to prove suddenly stormy, 

 they return home early; if* the wind is high, they 

 fly low; if calm, they keep at a good elevation, 

 and descend rapidly with a loud noise to the field 

 which has been chosen for their rendezvous; not- 

 withstanding the tremendous din of the assembled 

 multitudes, the least alarming noise, and often 

 their own impulse, makes the whole body spring 

 into the air. They wheel about in great curves, 

 re-alight, and again take wing, until the deepening 

 shades of evening warn them to retire to roost. 

 The evening evolutions of the starlings before 

 going to roost have been faithfully and poetically 

 described by the late Bishop of Norwich 

 (Stanley), in his Familiar History of Birds; but 

 we have no land birds whose habits can in this 

 respect be surpassed by the rook. Like other 

 polygamous birds, the old male black grouse as- 

 semble in flocks after the breeding season, until 

 the following spring ; the females and young keep 

 in separate flocks from the former; they are very 

 wary in winter, and do much damage to the fields 

 of young clover and turnips near their haunts. 

 The bold challenge of the male red grouse as 

 he springs from the heath, is a pleasant sound on 

 the lonely hill-side on a mistj' morning; in fine 

 weather they keep in little family parties; during 

 snow, and even in stormy weather, they unite in 

 large packs. Woe to the neighboring fields of 

 clover, and to the outlying sheaves on the moor- 

 land farm! for in eating oats they seize the stalk 

 below the ear, which is then drawn through 

 between the mandibles, and as they do not pick 

 up the fallen grains, more are thus irretrievably 

 lost than devoured. When pheasants are allowed 

 to shift for themselves, their habits are very in- 

 teresting, and they display an amount of sagacity 

 in providing for their food and safety which is 

 not to be expected in the pampered conservative 

 of the park cover, near which the fields of wheat, 

 beans, clover, and turnips are seriously injured. 

 In the former case, the birds keep in little family 

 parties, and their heavy upward flight to the 

 boughs of their favorite larch or spruce fir, and 

 noisy crowings, have a pleasant effect in twilight 

 hour ; so also have the call notes of the partridge 

 ere the scattered members of the covey are as- 

 sembled, and however contrary to our notions of 

 comfort, yet these birds do often habitually roost 

 in the dampest furrow in the field. They are 

 exceedingly fond of the seeds of many injurious 

 weeds, particularly those of Polygonum avicu- 

 lare, and, besides grain, they destroy clovers and 

 turnips to some extent. 



There is many districts an annual influx of 

 ringdoves from the north. Their habits are shy 

 and wary, and the large flocks move to and fro 

 on whistling pinions, ravaging the clover and 

 turnip fields. It is interesting to watch their 

 return, to roost in the dark pine wood, and still 

 more so to see the wild confusion which follows 

 the report of a gun. Of birds of prey, we may 

 note the more familiar, such as the buzzard with 

 heavy circling flight, content with field mice and 



