SELBORNIANA. 
165 
Cheddar Clifis from the profane touch of the workman’s tool ? — E. W. S. -\V. ” It is- 
much to be wished that E. \V. S. -W. , and other such persons, instead of (or, at any 
rate, in addition to) writing to the papers complaining that the Selborne Society 
does nothing, would themselves write to the Selborne Society and ask it to do- 
something. Every one who knows anything of the work of the Society is aware 
that the preservation of beautiful scenery is one of the distinctive features of its 
programme, and has been the subject of several articles in Nature Notes. The 
Selborne Society has often been successful in saving, by timely interposition, beau- 
tiful objects from threatened danger. But it is impossible to take cognisance of all 
the “ brutal destruction” that goes on, unless instances of it are brought to the notice 
cf the Society, and particulars given of the outrages complained of. We are much 
obliged to Miss Dangar for having brought to our knowledge the impassioned,, 
and, we hope, exaggerated, wail of woe uttered by E. W. S.-W. It shall be 
laid before the Council of the Selborne Society at its next meeting — two or three 
days from the time of writing — and steps will doubtless be taken to enquire into 
he nature of the injuries done to the cliffs, and, if possible, to avert further 
devastation. 
Unkindness of Jackdaws to their kind.— On June 14th, 1890, I 
found on the Freshwater Down, near the Beacon, a young jackdaw, apparently 
friendless. It could not fly, but fluttered about helplessly. The wind was blow- 
ing strongly from the cliff, and it was that, probably, which had carried little Jack 
so far from his nest. I brought him to the house, and the footman fitted up a 
box for him, into which I put some raw meat, a snail, and some bread, and add- 
ing a cup of water, I said “Goodnight” to little Jack. Early next morning I 
found that he had eaten nothing, so I opened his beak and fed him with soaked 
bread and some fish, which I had been advised to try. Poor little Jack looked so 
miserable that I thought he would be happier on the cliff ; I took him back ac- 
cordingly, putting him down as near to the place where I found him as I could 
remember. We then walked about three hundred yards away and watched. It 
was not long before a jackdaw appeared from the cliff, and hopping cautiously 
close to Jack had a good look at him, and flew back again. Very soon several, 
others appeared — in all fifteen ; they formed a circle round the unhappy little bird, 
but not one of them would approach nearer than ten yards. There was some- 
thing about his appearance that they evidently did not approve of, and at length 
they all flew away, leaving their friendless little comrade to his fate. I then carried 
Jack further, and put him down in another place, but no one came or took notice 
of him, so I was obliged to take him home. On the 1 6th we took him once more 
to the Down to give his relatives one more chance of making friends with him, 
but they would not go near him, so I decided to try to rear him myself, and 
yet let him enjoy his freedom almost as much as he would on the Downs. When 
we went out for a walk little Jack, who w'as fast becoming tame, perched on my 
shoulder or wrist, and thence took his view of the world and things in general, 
I fed him freely with raw beef — too freely, I fear, for one day he became sick and 
rejected some little bits of meat. I had left him, as usual, in the housekeeper’s room 
after our walk, when the housekeeper cried out that little Jack was in a fit. We 
gave him brandy and water, also a pepper-corn, then applied cold water to his- 
beak, but all in vain. The poor, wise-looking birdie died, and I buried him alone 
among the flowers, where the jackdaws skim nightly athwart the sky to their home 
in the cliff. E. Durham. 
Imitations of the Notes of Birds. — Miss Blanche Pechele writes 
from San Souci, Bellagio, Italy: — “I hasten to send you a French verse, which 
imitates the notes of the lark’s song wonderfully. I copied the verse several years, 
ago from a review of a book called ‘ The Letters of a Betrothed ’ : — 
“ ‘ La genlille alouette avec son tire-lire. 
Tire-lire et lire, et tire-lire et lire ; 
Vers la voute du ciel, puis son val vers ce lieu 
Vire ; — et desire dire 
Adieu Dieu ! adieu Dieu 1 ’ ” 
