A Thirsty June 
souls of lost mariners are said to become seabirds, it is 
perhaps no wonder they want to smell the sea sometimes. 
Unsteady younglings, however, were now trembling about 
on the rushes at the edge of the quagmire, while the 
agitated parents in hundreds filled the air above, looking 
like a veritable snowcloud, or Mother Hulda plucking her 
Yuletide geese. The noise they made was indescribable, 
like hundreds of penny rattles all going at once, or sharpen- 
ing of saws. It has earned them the name of the Laughing 
Gull, which is, I think, a very poetic way of describing their 
intolerable din. I believe this haunt of the Blackheaded 
Gull is about the only one left in the'^district, since they 
were driven away from the Castle Loch by the expedient 
of lighting fires on the little islets they frequented, the 
owner, it is said, disliking the noise they made. Other 
“ mosses ” they liked have been drained. They have 
deserted a place just over the Border, in Northumberland, 
rather to the vexation of the owner, as their flitting is 
regarded as an evil omen. There is a similar superstition 
about Crows, as Rooks are popularly called hereabouts, 
and it is alleged the Crows all departed hence just before 
the burning of our poor little mansion-house. Certain it is 
there are none nestling here now, though they pass over 
the place morning and evening cawing. Virgil and Chaucer 
both say, if Crows caw much and hoarsely, it is a sign of 
rain. Does this apply to Rooks, I wonder ? 
June 3. — The Woodroof is out in abundance, along 
with Bluebells and Ferns. I think it is in Germany the 
Woodroof is put with white wine with slices of peaches and 
the liquor drunk under the name of Maitrank. I am very 
busy picking it to-day. In muslin bags it is delicious for 
putting amongst linen, having an indescribable sweet scent 
rather like hay. Sweetgrass is a nice old Border name for 
it. In Johnston’s curious old book on the Eastern Borders 
he says people liked to have a flower “ neatly dried laid in 
the case of their watch.” In one of Miss Wilkins’ New 
England stories, she mentions baskets made of Sweetgrass. 
I wonder if this would be our Woodroof? It is curious 
169 ® 
