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POPULARITY OF NATURAL HISTORY. 
Old Hawthorn. 
“ The Hawthorn I will pu’, wi’ its locks o’ siller grey. 
Where like an aged man it stands at break o’ day.” Burns. 
The beauty of these descriptions is apparent, though made by authors who 
never professed to be naturalists, and as their truth is obvious, they cannot be 
the worse for being in a poetical dress, though many persons abhor the intro¬ 
duction of poetry, however true to life, though the images here embodied would 
remain the same were the words composing them reduced to the plainest prose 
imaginable. However, it must be evident that such notices of the habits of 
animals and representations of familiar objects please the general taste , or they 
would not occur in the profusion they do in works not professing to describe 
objects of Natural History particularly, or be valued as gems when they occur, as 
they undoubtedly are. 
But pictures of Nature and images of natural objects are most frequently made 
use of by poets and allegorical writers, for the sake of the sentiment connected 
with or founded upon them; and here ingenuity and invention have ample room 
to dilate themselves. The deduction from the pictorial image may be forced or 
natural, and agreeably described, it cannot fail to charm, while the inferences 
skilfully managed may lead to the most sublime views, or be conducted so as to 
call up a rich treasury of moral or religious thought, and they often give rise to 
reflections the poignancy of which pierces to the innermost recesses of the soul. 
A few instances of this kind of imagery must here suffice, though the subject is 
not easily exhausted. 
On a Wild Nosegay.—Clare. 
“ The yellow Lambtoe I have often got, 
Sweet creeping o’er the banks in summer time, 
And Totter-grass in many a trembling knot; 
And robb’d the Mole-hill of its bed of Thyme: 
And oft with anxious feelings would I climb 
The waving Willow-row, a stick to trim 
To reach the Water-lily’s tempting flower 
That on the surface of the pool did swim. 
I’ve stretch’d, and tried vain schemes for many an hour ; 
And scrambled up the Hawthorn’s prickly bower, 
For ramping Woodbines and blue Bitter-sweet. 
Still summer blooms, these flowers appear again ; 
But ah! the question’s useless to repeat, 
When will the feeling come I witness’d then ?”j 
Thorns no annoyance. 
“ The untutored bird may found, and so construct. 
And with such soft materials line her nest, 
