MV MOOR. 
247 
Tlie herds which were once preserved at Gisburne Park, 
Yorkshire, and Gunton Park, Norfolk, are now extinct; but the 
semi domesticated herds of Blickling and Woodbastwick are off- 
shoots from the latter. 
In conclusion, let it be observed that fresh blood requires to 
be infused into all such herds from time to time, for constant 
in-breeding can have but one result — the total extinction at no 
very distant date of our largest and fiercest wild or semi-wild 
animal. 
J. Bertram McCabe. 
MY MOOR. 
Purple with heather, and golden with gorse. 
Stretches the moorland for mile after mile ; 
Over it cloud-shadows float in their course — 
Grave thoughts passing athwart a smile, — 
Till the shimmering distance, grey and gold. 
Drowns all in a glory manifold. 
O the blue butterflies quivering there. 
Hovering, flickering, never at rest, — 
Quickened flecks of the upper air 
Brought down by seeing the earth so blest ; 
And the grasshoppers shrilling their quaint delight 
At having been born in a world so bright ! 
Overhead circles the lapwing slow. 
Waving his black-tipped curves of wings. 
Calling so clearly, that I, as I go. 
Call back an answering “ peewit ” that brings 
The sweep of his circles so low as he flies 
That I see his green plume, and the doubt in his eyes. 
Harebell and crowfoot and bracken and ling 
Gladden my heart as it beats all aglow 
In a brotherhood true with each living thing. 
From the crimson- tipped bee, and the chaffer slow. 
And the small lithe lizard with jewelled eye. 
To the lark that has lost herself far in the sky. 
Ay me, where am I ? For here I sit. 
With bricks all round me, bilious and brown, 
And not a chance this summer to quit 
The bustle and roar and the cries of town. 
Nor to cease to breathe this over-breathed air. 
Heavy with toil, and laden with care. 
