NATURE NOTES. 
146 
them, though I must confess at times to feeling a trifle less 
Selbornian than I ought when young eyes wander upwards at 
the birds instead of being directed horizontally at black-board. 
And discipline is not quite so exact as it ought to be at the 
exciting time when the young birds first show their trim white 
waistcoats above the edge of their mud-built parapet, and 
survey things and people below. The excitement increases as 
the young birds are encouraged to make their first flight. The 
inevitable last nervous one afibrds matter for a good deal of 
conjecture. Youthful naturalists are not wanting who assert 
that “the old un give him a push offer the nest;” but I am not 
positive. 
Before the eggs are hatched they are not above helping 
with the singing, and the children take it as a matter of course. 
This good-natured assistance proves sometimes embarrassing, 
■when prayer meetings are held in the schoolroom. They join 
very heartily in the hymns, and come in with a tremendous 
flourish at the close. 
A year or two ago one of the poor little things met with a 
mishap and hurt its wing — probably through flying against a 
pane. It was perfectly tame, and did not struggle in the least 
when picked up. It used to perch on the rim round the front 
of my desk, and ride about the school on the collar of my coat, 
often creeping confidingly on to my shoulder. But, alas ! it was 
a cold early summer, and flies were scarce. It- greedily snapped 
up those on the windows, grasping my fingers with its weak 
claws. The children assisted me in attempting to feed it, but 
our efforts were vain — either owing to lack of its natural food or 
to its unfortunate accident, our tiny friend’s life came to a 
premature end, and it was found one morning dead. I keep a 
green place in my memory for it still. 
Swanton Motley, East Dereham. J. Lewtok Brain. 
GILBERT WHITE.=’= 
Author of the Immortal “ Natural History of Sel borne.” 
Died June 26, 1793. 
Centenaries come and go. 
Times for talk, and scenes of show, — 
Heroes, conquerors, poets, sages, — 
But thy book’s perenuial pages. 
Gentle Gilbert, shall outlast 
Many a Fame whose brazen blast 
Tortures ears that would far rather 
Close to their thrasonic blather. 
From riinch, July 1st, 1893. 
