NATURE NOTES 
182 
“ T urge that still more thought be given to the luckless wounded, even if it 
means the curtailment of a ‘ drive,’ or extra hands engaged to search quickly for 
those birds, borne by force of wing and wind to long distances in rear of the 
‘butts.’ Some grouse misery might thus be saved, and a diminution, too, of 
remorse felt on the part of shooters for the havoc they have made among the 
most beautiful and shapely bird we retain in these islands.” 
Obituary. — The recent death, at the age of seventy-six, 
of Mr. William Joseph Richards, of Riversdale, Torquay, the 
Secretary, and to a great extent the founder, of the United 
Devon Association, is a great loss to the cause of the defence 
of the amenities of our country. Mr. Richards achieved the 
very difficult task of uniting a large body of men of most diverse 
characteristics by persuading them that they had interests in 
common. His simple but cogent argument has been more than 
once alluded to in Nature Notes. The railway companies, 
the innkeepers, and the tradesmen generally in Devonshire are 
interested in the influx of tourists and visitors. These strangers 
are attracted by the beauties of the county ; and, therefore, 
Devonians generally are personally interested in the preservation 
of those beauties. If the lanes are to be stripped of their ferns, 
or if beauty-spots are to be otherwise disfigured, the goose that 
lays the golden eggs will have been killed. This lesson, which Mr. 
Richards brought home to his neighbours in the west, is one 
that requires to be driven home in many other parts of the 
country. 
AN AUTUMN EVENING ON WIMBLEDON 
COMMON. 
HE foliage is already beginning to assume its autumnal 
tints of russet gold and crimson. The silver birch 
is weighed down by a wealth of catkins, the haw- 
thorn is heavy with reddening berries, and the chest- 
nut, elm, sycamore, larch and lime, are in the “ sere and yellow 
leaf.” No longer are the gorse and broom a blaze of gold. 
The bramble bushes are laden with both ripe and unripe fruit, 
and would the “ tripper ” but leave the fruit to ripen, there 
would be a rich crop of luscious blackberries on the common 
this season. In parts, Putney Heath, the scene of many a 
deadly duel in bygone days, is carpeted with ankle-high purple 
heather and heath-bell, and possibly years ago this covert 
afforded harbourage to one of the most noble of our British 
game birds, the blackcock (Tetrao letrix), a few stray specimens 
of which are, or were a few years ago, to be found in the 
neighbourhood of Aldershot and Bagshot Heath. 
Resting upon a spray of heather is a blue butterfly wdiich 
has evidently escaped from either an entomologist’s net or 
