174 OLD TOKENS OF WIND AND WEATHER 
entirely, upon seeds, and has its mandibles constructed 
in a very peculiar manner, to aid this established ap- 
pointment of its life. In the winter season it will fre- 
quent the stacks in the farm-yard, in company with 
others, to feed upon any corn that may be found scatter- 
ed about; but, little inclined to any association with 
man, it prefers those situations which are most lonely 
and distant from the village. It could hardly be supposed 
that this bird, not larger than a lark, is capable of doing 
serious injury ; yet I this morning witnessed a rick of 
barley, standing in a detached field, entirely stripped of 
its thatching, which this bunting effected by seizing the 
end of the straw, and deliberately drawing it out, to 
search for any grain the ear might yet contain ; the base 
of the rick being entirely surrounded by the straw, one 
end resting on the ground, the other against the mow, 
as it slid down from the summit, and regularly placed 
as if by the hand ; and so completely was the thatching 
pulled off, that the immediate removal of the corn be- 
came necessary. The sparrow and other birds burrow 
into the stack, and pilfer the corn ; but the deliberate 
operation of unroofing the edifice appears to be the 
habit of this bunting alone. 
Old simplicities, tokens of winds and weather, and 
the plain observances of rural life, are everywhere 
waning fast to decay. Some of them may have been 
fond conceits; but they accorded with the ordinary 
manners of the common people, and marked times, 
seasons, and things, with sufficient truth for those who 
had faith in them. Little as we retain of these obsolete 
fancies, we have not quite abandoned them all ; and 
there are yet found among our peasants, a few who 
mark the blooming of the large white lily (lilium can- 
didum), and think that the number of its blossoms on a 
stem will indicate the price of wheat by the bushel for 
the ensuing year, each blossom equivalent to a shilling. 
We expect a sunny day, too, when the pimpernel (ana- 
gallis arvensis) fully expands its blossoms ; a dubious, 
or a moist one, when they are closed. In this belief, 
however, we have the sanction of some antiquity to 
support us; Sir F. Bacon records it; Gerarde notes it 
