KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



371 



in whose spotted chalices may be seen the 

 " red-hipt humble bee," revelling in sweets, 

 or resting in repose. 



Solitude here reigns triumphant ; for few 

 tread these remote thickets. But, hark ! the 

 feathered denizens of the woods are pouring 

 forth their sweet notes, borne high above 

 the clamor of the water's music ; just as the 

 clear tones of a skilful singer rise on the 

 ear, superior to the harmony of the orches- 

 tra's combined accompaniment. 



Proceeding onwards, I saw every now and 

 then, through openings in the wood, the 

 undulating stream — a beautiful combination 

 of gold and silver — as it sparkled in the 

 sunlight. Never shall I forget how beauti- 

 ful was the effect produced ! Listening 

 awhile, — 



" Invisible in necked sky 

 The lark sent down her revelry; 

 The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

 ' Good-morrow' gave from brake and bush ; 

 In answer cooed the cushat dove 

 Her notes of peace, and rest, and love." 



I had not progressed far before I came 

 upon one of the weasel tribe, who was 

 bearing away a young rabbit he had just 

 captured. The poacher, the moment he 

 espied me, dropped his game ; making, as 

 fast as he could run, for his retreat in the 

 rocks. On taking up poor little bunny, I 

 found his body still warm, life being only 

 just extinct. As no advantage could arise 

 by depriving Monsieur Weasel of his plunder, 

 I placed the rabbit at the entrance of his 

 hole ; and, on my return in the evening, I 

 found the arch-villain had carried him off, 

 and, no doubt, " pouched" him. 



I had now reached the outlet from the 

 woods into the main road. I was here startled 

 by the whirring of wings and a brief cry of 

 alarm. Looking in the direction whence 

 the sound proceeded, I saw a thrush which 

 I had disturbed by opening the gate. Within 

 three feet of this gate, she had built her nest. 



I perceived it on the branches of a larch ; 

 and her ladyship was, no doubt, sitting when 

 I passed. A more secure place she might 

 readily have selected ; for not three feet 

 further off, the coppice and trees clustered 

 there about the rocks which hung high over 

 the river's course below, and were, appa- 

 rently, inapproachable. The spot she had 

 chosen was an evidence of the road being 

 little frequented ; and let. us hope that the 

 few passers -by respected the dwelling of 

 the gentle bird. How many of us, in our 

 youth, have been spoilers of the homes of 

 these interesting creatures ; and how reck- 

 lessly ignorant were we of the pain we in- 

 flicted, and the distressing sorrow we occa- 

 sioned ! Surely, if children were early 

 impressed with the wickedness of torturing 

 or teasing animals, wantonly killing insects, 



and robbing birds of their eggs or young, by 

 precepts most likely to operate upon their 

 feelings and understanding — much of such 

 cruel, lamentable, and demoralising mischief 

 might be prevented. It is not many years 

 since the humane Member for Galway, the 

 eccentric but kind-hearted Richard, popularly 

 known as "Dick" Martin, * was unsuccessful 

 in his endeavors to pass a statute for the 

 prevention of cruelty to animals ; and his 

 efforts were met with ridicule and frustrated 

 with scorn. But " a change came o'er the 

 spirit" of the age. The good and estimable 

 man lived to carry out the object of his 

 noble desire ; and we have since advanced a 

 little in the scale of humanity. 



Not to dwell on my walk to the village, 

 or particularise the changes which thirty 

 years had produced in the little hamlet, let 

 me say that I at once sought the high moors 

 and surveyed with admiration the rich scene 

 viewed from that eminence. Many, many 

 charming landscapes, have I gazed on in 

 bygone years, yet on no one of them, in my 

 remembrance, more beautiful than this. A 

 valley,stretching the whole expanse from west 

 to east, dotted with towers, spires, woods, up- 

 lands, parks, mansions, meadows, and stream- 

 lets — the whole environed by lofty hills and 

 dark moors, lay below me " slumbering in 

 the summer ray." 



Embraced in one grand view, were 

 Barnard Castle — the towers of Bowes, Mort- 

 ham, and Richmond. In the far distance 

 rose Raby's proud battlements, crowned 

 with the banner of the noble house of Cleve- 

 land floating in the breeze. — I lingered here 

 so long, occasionally observing the curlew 

 and the lapwing in their wheeling flight, that 

 evening's approach had stolen upon me 

 unawares. And now — 



" The sultry summer day is done, 

 The Avestern hills have hid the sun ; 

 But mountain peak and village spire 

 Retain reflection of his fire. 

 Old Barnard's towers are purple still, 

 To those that gaze from Toller Hill ; 

 Distant and high, the tower of Bowes 

 Like steel upon the anvil glows ; 

 And Stanmore's ridge, behind that lay, 

 Rich with the spoils of parting day." 



Thus ended my day's ramble. Night's 

 dark blue mantle, spangled with its golden 

 stars, has enwrapped the woods ; but — 



* This eulogy on "Dick Martin" must be 

 taken cum grano salis. If man be an " animal," 

 then was his humanity very questionable ; for the 

 Hon. M.P. died largely in our debt, and wo 

 could never obtain one halfpenny of our claims 

 on him. Living in the wilds of Ireland, Dick 

 felt "safe;" for had anybody gone to "take 

 possession," he would assuredly have been mur- 

 dered.— Ed. K. J. 



