40 



THE NATURALIST. 



approach., and, on examining the nest, I 

 found to my surprise, that it was no other 

 than a last year's nest of the Song Thrush, 

 which the Ouzels had .taken possession of, 

 and partly lined with a few bents, ling, 

 and other mountainous matter. Not more 

 than ten yards from the place a female of 

 the same species, and probably the mother 

 bird of the young just mentioned, rose at 

 my feet, and on looking I was still more 

 astonished to see three eggs laid on the 

 sand, in a hollow and having no oust at all. 

 In my rambles I have found scores of nests 

 of the Ring Ouzel, but this is the first 

 instance I have known of this species not 

 having the will or capacity to make a nest 

 of its ovm. To assure your readers of the 

 impossibility of any mistake on my part, 

 of the species referred to, I beg to say I 

 saw the birds in every instance, and those 

 whose eggs I found, are now in my posses- 

 sion. I may here add that I not unfre- 

 quently find the nests of the "Wren in trees 

 several yards from the ground, — John 

 Blackburn, Hebden Bridge, Manchester, 



Dates of Arrival of the Spring 







Migrants, 1866. 



April 15. 



Chiffchaff; Willow Wren, Tree 







Pipit, and Swallow. 



> > 



17. 



Cuckoo heard. 



>> 



19. 



Sand Martins on the Calder. 







Mr. Talbot. 





22. 



Saw Whinchat. 





26. 



Heard Whitethroat. 



May 



10. 



Heard Lesser WTiitethroat. 



> » 



13. 



Heard Corn Crake, and Hedge 







Warbler. Saw Wheatear. 





20. 



Heard Wood Warbler, and saw 







a few Martins at one of their 







breeding places. 





26. 



Saw Redstart. 



The pair of Wheatears that I saw on the 

 13th of May did not stay to breed here ; 

 they were apparently stragglers. The 

 Redstart that I saw on the 26 th was also a 

 wanderer. The Redstart arrives here 

 about the 30th of April, but is sparingly 

 distributed. Martins are not numerous. — 

 Geo. Roberts, Lofthouse, June 20, 1866. 



New British Morel. — The Morel referred ' 

 to in the last Number of the Naturalist, 

 page 19, should be Morchella crassipes, not 

 M. Bohemica. — W. G. S. 



WATER WEEDS. 



Tastefully decking your watery dwelling, 

 Who can deny to you beauty and grace, 

 Emerald sprays flaunting in prodigal clusters 

 Tinting the streamlets in every place ? 

 What though the balmy breeze breathes not upon 

 you 



Tempering the noon's heat with genial kiss, 

 Ye in your crystal home, diamond-besetted, 

 Share not the less of the Summer-tide's bliss. 



Need ye repine that the butterfly glances 



Far overhead away where ye wave ? 



Did he perchance dip his wings in your waters 



Your Paradise might prove his gloomy grave : 



Do ye regret that the bee's murmuring music 



Swells not within your own moss-bordered caves ? 



Melodies witching float ever beside ye. 



Borne from the rocks by the stream's tiny waves. 



Better by far than the lone mountain flow'ret, 

 Tom by each blast in its riotous sweep, 

 Ye need not reck as the whirlwind rude passes. 

 Safely embosomed within your own deep ; 

 Summer, that scorches the blades on the highland. 

 Dare not intrude with its withering hand ; 

 Winter, indulgent, his piercing breath tempers, 

 Nursing you warmly beneath his ice-hand. 



Have ye not those who disport 'neath your 



shadows — 

 Daphne and Cyclops in varjdng mood ; 

 Clustering life on the tiniest branchlet, 

 Pensioners seeking their liberal food ; 

 Forms that our frail vision cannot discover 

 Gather in myriads o'er each spreading leaf, 

 Buoyant in life, and in joyousness seeming 

 Ever to mock the deep moanings of grief. 



Blooming so tenderly too o'er the waters, 

 Mingling your perfume with earthgendered flowers? 

 What do ye lack in your watery dwelling ? 

 What has kind nature grudged you of her dowers ? 

 This will I learn as I ponder your wonders — 

 Nought could build up your perfection more sure, 

 And though ye perish, or I sink in darkness, 

 Beauty and Truth must for ever endure. 



H. WILLIAMSON. 



