130 
NATURE NOTES. 
and jerking of heads and tails back and to, as this occun'ed, was 
laughable to see. “ Bell ” made a hastj^ retreat, and has not 
been since seen after such “ high game.” 
Sarah Cash. 
I should like to relate my experience of a tame rook which 
I brought up from the nest some years ago. Its breakfast 
always consisted of bread and milk -with a few worms, but the 
favourite food was light pudding or blancmange, of which it 
partook every day after luncheon, being fed with a fork in most 
approved fashion. After filling his crop and beak to repletion, 
Master Dick would hop off with what he could not swallow, 
scratch a small hole and hide each piece separately — looking 
round cunningly the while to see that he was not watched. 
Then if there were still more pudding on the plate he would 
come back and again go through the same process until he had 
buried it all. During the afternoon he would dig up each piece 
and eat it with evident pleasure, judging from the satisfactory 
“ caw, caw,” which followed each gulp. Dick was a most 
amusing bird, and I could relate many little anecdotes of him, 
notably one of his friendship for a tiny moor-hen, his only 
feathered companion, but I fear to take up too much of your 
valuable space. 
L. Whitely. 
HAREBELLS.* 
Blue bells, on blue hills, where the sky is blue, 
Here’s a little blue-gowned maid come to look at you ; 
Here’s a little child would fain, at the vesper time. 
Catch the music of your hearts, hear the harebells chime. 
“ Little hares, little hares,” softly prayeth she, 
“ Come, come across the hills, and ring the bells for me.” 
\Vhen do hares ring the bells, does my lady say ? 
Is it when the sky is rosed with the coming da)' ? 
Is it in the strength of noon, all the earth aglow ? 
Is it when at eventide sweet dew falleth slow ? 
Any time the bells may ring, morn, or noon, or even ; 
Lovebells, joybells, earthbells heard in heaven. 
Any time the happy hills may be lightly swept 
By the ringers’ little feet ; any time except 
When by horse and hound and man chased and frighted sore, 
Weak and panting, little hares care to ring no more. 
It must be upon the hills where the hunt comes ne’er. 
Chimes of bells ring out to greet touch of little hare. 
Harebells, blue bells, ring, ring again ! 
Set a-going, little hares, the joyaunce of the strain. 
* Reprinted by permission from “ Michael Villiers, Idealist ; and other Poems.” 
Smith, Elder & Co., 1891. 
