third-the loudest of all-induced every cock pheasant in the woods of Lavington to sound his note of alarm. As to myself, I confess I was puzzled how to account for the phenomenon. It was quite different from the rumble produced even by the loudest artillery, and the clear cloudless sky forbade the supposition of its being caused by even distant thunder. On my way home I passed several persons who had heard it, and many of whom had noticed its effect on the pheasants, especially one party of labourers who were employed in repairing a fence near a long hanger-one of the best preserves in the county-they told me that a loud and long continued crowing proceeded from all parts of the wood for many minutes after the last explosion. They too were unable to conjecture the cause of the sound, nor was the mystery unravelled until the following day, when intelligence arrived of the awful explosion and loss of life at Messrs. Curtis and Harvey's powder mills at Hounslow, nearly fifty miles in a direct line from the spot where I heard it.

A plea for the persecuted mole and badger, and some other victims which have no claim to a place in the dark catalogue of vermin-wherein Mr. Knox with truth, we fear, includes the hedgehog as a most desperate egg-destroyer-graces these pages, which give such an account

of the various species of grouse as none but a naturalist and observing sportsman can give. Their most bitter enemy, the scaul-crow,' corvus cornix, more generally known as the hooded crow and the Royston crow, comes in for a full share of our author's just indignation, and its predatory habits are admirably described.

The great success of Lord Breadalbane, who, from a stock of fiftyfour birds, received from Norway in 1838 and 1839, has accomplished, principally by placing the eggs in the nests of the black grouse, the restoration of the noble capercaillie to our fauna, is duly recorded. the woods about Taymouth Castle, Drummond Hill, Kenmore Hill, Croftmorraig Hill, for instance, now teem with these grand chieftains of

All

the grouse tribe, and they already find their way every season to Strath Tay, Blair Athol, and the woods about Crieff. But we must not forget, in our gratitude to Lord Breadalbane, the earlier, though less successful efforts of Lord Fife, who, undaunted by failures, and after persevering through the years of 1828, 1829, 1830, and 1831, hatched in the year last named, five young capercaillies at Braemar.

Every lover of field sports should mark and inwardly digest the chapter on careless shooting, with Sir Edwin's heart-breaking random shot,' and Mr. Wolf's touching 'wounded woodcock,' before him. Mr. Knox, it seems, has a hospital collection, which he exhibits by way of warning to the slovenly shot. Here is an instance of Nature's power in repairing an injury, when reparation is possible :

There is one miserable looking hen pheasant in particular which never fails

to attract attention. Her entire beak had been shot away. Indeed, both mandibles and the tongue were gone, leaving a wide aperture, the edges of which, under the healing influence of dame Nature, had hardened into a pair of horny lips; and thus the poor birdunable to procure its usual insect food, or to pick up any scattered grains of corn-was compelled to haunt a small barley stack, near the keeper's house; the sheaves of which being loosely placed together, she contrived to extract the ears separately, and to provide herself with sufficient food, for she was by no means in bad condition when killed by chance at the close of the season.

But we must close this fascinating book, which does not contain a single heavy page, and well deserves the same praise as was awarded to the Ornithological Rambles by so many competent critics. To the present volume, also, the author has brought the two great elements of success-acute observation and an enthusiastic love of his subject.'*

Of the spirited illustrations we need only say that they are from the gifted pencil of Mr. Wolf.

save the expense of netting. The birds enjoyed a winter of excellent health, and, in March, just as the males began to manifest the usual symptoms of pugnacity, their owner was obliged to leave home. Here is his account of the state of affairs on his return:

Love and war had been running riot within its once peaceful precincts. Three of the four cock-birds were completely hors de combat. One of them, indeed, was dying, two were severely lacerated, but the fourth, who, like the surviving Horatius in the combat with the Curiatii, had probably vanquished all his rivals in detail, appeared, like his classical prototype, perfectly uninjured, and strutted in all the pomp and pride of a conqueror among a crowd of hens, who seemed to regard matters with perfect equanimity, passing with contemptuous indifference their unfortunate knightserrant, as they sat moping on the ground with their heads buried in the friendly shelter of the bushes, but following obediently in the wake of the victor, and evidently disposed to admit to the full extent that none but the brave deserve the fair.'

Having no opportunity of securing any pinioned male pheasants to supply the place of the three discomfited heroes, he was half inclined to break up his pheasantry, when, writes he,

On entering the enclosure one morning, I was surprised to see a fine old cock-pheasant, with a tail of portentous length, take wing from among the midst of the hens, and, with a protracted crow of triumph, fly over the fence to the evergreens beyond. But where was Horatius? Alas! his days were numbered. He had found his match at last. After a long search, I discovered him squatted in a corner, his once brilliant plumage torn and covered with blood. One eye was closed; the other was completely extinguished. His neck was entirely plucked, and as bare as a vulture's. His crimson cheeks were sadly lacerated. His head was absolutely scalped, and where a pair of purple egrets had lately been so proudly erected, a bare skull was now alone visible. Poor fellow he died the same evening. The rest may be briefly told. Day after day did the conqueror visit his newly acquired territory, and many a youthful rival, too prudent to come into close quarters with the long-spurred tyrant, would pay a stolen visit to his seraglio during his absence and win the favours of his fickle fair ones. I obtained an

immense number of eggs during that season, which proved unusually productive.

But the paradise of pheasants, beautifully described at page 184, is in the demesne of good Mr. Waterton, who blesses all living things that are so fortunate as to come under his benevolent rule. We must pass it, however, though we cannot resist the following passage in the natural history of the bird, accompanied as it is by a charming home view :

I

The habit of crowing, indulged in at all hours of the day during the breeding season, is not restricted to the purposes of love or the hour of rest. The same note is uttered on quitting his perch at early dawn, and the sound of thunder or distant cannon never fails to produce it. How often, though at a distance of thirty miles, have I heard it elicited by the booming of the Portsmouth guns, when the weather was calm, or the wind in a favourable quarter. But the most remarkable instance of this kind that ever came under my notice occurred on the 11th of March, 1850. It was a clear sunny day, the air cold and frosty, with a gentle breeze from the north-east. had been riding through Charlton forest, and had just begun to descend the northern slope of the downs by a rugged path above the village of Graffham, when I was induced to halt for a moment to admire the magnificent panoramic view that here suddenly bursts upon the sight. The dark hanging woods of Lavington clothed the steep hills on one side, while on the other their natural forms were varied by smaller clumps of beech and juniper. Below me lay the long and picturesque valley of the Rother, extending from the borders of Hampshire as far as the eye could reach, and varied with wild, heathery commons, evergreen woods, brown copses, and cultivated fields. Immediately opposite was the elevated range of the lower green sandstone formation which forms the southern boundary of the weald of West Sussex; beyond which again, in the distance, might be seen the blue outline of the Surrey downs as they stretched far away into the eastern horizon. I had not gazed long upon this magnificent scene before a deep hollow booming, or protracted concussion-for it was rather felt than heard-shook the earth for some seconds. At the same moment a pheasant in an adjoining copse announced his consciousness of the shock by a sudden crowing, which had hardly ceased before a second explosion, succeeded after another interval by a

third-the loudest of all-induced every cock pheasant in the woods of Lavington to sound his note of alarm. As to myself, I confess I was puzzled how to account for the phenomenon. It was quite different from the rumble produced even by the loudest artillery, and the clear cloudless sky forbade the supposition of its being caused by even distant thunder. On my way home I passed several persons who had heard it, and many of whom had noticed its effect on the pheasants, especially one party of labourers who were employed in repairing a fence near a long hanger-one of the best preserves in the county-they told me that a loud and long continued crowing proceeded from all parts of the wood for many minutes after the last explosion. They too were unable to conjecture the cause of the sound, nor was the mystery unravelled until the following day, when intelligence arrived of the awful explosion and loss of life at Messrs. Curtis and Harvey's powder mills at Hounslow, nearly fifty miles in a direct line from the spot where I heard it.

A plea for the persecuted mole and badger, and some other victims which have no claim to a place in the dark catalogue of vermin-wherein Mr. Knox with truth, we fear, includes the hedgehog as a most desperate egg-destroyer-graces these pages, which give such an account

of the various species of grouse as none but a naturalist and observing sportsman can give. Their most bitter enemy, 'the scaul-crow,' corvus cornix, more generally known as the hooded crow and the Royston crow, comes in for a full share of our author's just indignation, and its predatory habits are admirably described.

The great success of Lord Breadalbane, who, from a stock of fiftyfour birds, received from Norway in 1838 and 1839, has accomplished, principally by placing the eggs in the nests of the black grouse, the restoration of the noble capercaillie to our fauna, is duly recorded. the woods about Taymouth Castle, Drummond Hill, Kenmore Hill, Croftmorraig Hill, for instance, now teem with these grand chieftains of

All

the grouse tribe, and they already find their way every season to Strath Tay, Blair Athol, and the woods about Crieff. But we must not forget, in our gratitude to Lord Breadalbane, the earlier, though less successful efforts of Lord Fife, who, undaunted by failures, and after persevering through the years of 1828, 1829, 1830, and 1831, hatched in the year last named, five young capercaillies at Braemar.

Every lover of field sports should mark and inwardly digest the chapter on careless shooting, with Sir Edwin's heart-breaking ' random shot,' and Mr. Wolf's touching 'wounded woodcock,' before him. Mr. Knox, it seems, has a hospital collection, which he exhibits by way of warning to the slovenly shot. Here is an instance of Nature's power in repairing an injury, when reparation is possible :

There is one miserable looking hen pheasant in particular which never fails to attract attention. Her entire beak had been shot away. Indeed, both mandibles and the tongue were gone, leaving a wide aperture, the edges of which, under the healing influence of dame Nature, had hardened into a pair of horny lips; and thus the poor birdunable to procure its usual insect food, or to pick up any scattered grains of corn-was compelled to haunt a small barley stack, near the keeper's house; the sheaves of which being loosely placed together, she contrived to extract the ears separately, and to provide herself with sufficient food, for she was by no means in bad condition when killed by chance at the close of the season.

But we must close this fascinating book, which does not contain a single heavy page, and well deserves the same praise as was awarded to the Ornithological Rambles by so many competent critics. To the present volume, also, the author has brought the two great elements of success-acute observation and an enthusiastic love of his subject.'*

Of the spirited illustrations we need only say that they are from the gifted pencil of Mr. Wolf.

The

save the expense of netting. birds enjoyed a winter of excellent health, and, in March, just as the males began to manifest the usual symptoms of pugnacity, their owner was obliged to leave home. Here is his account of the state of affairs on his return:

Love and war had been running riot within its once peaceful precincts. Three of the four cock-birds were completely hors de combat. One of them, indeed, was dying, two were severely lacerated, but the fourth, who, like the surviving Horatius in the combat with the Curiatii, had probably vanquished all his rivals in detail, appeared, like his classical prototype, perfectly uninjured, and strutted in all the pomp and pride of a conqueror among a crowd of hens, who seemed to regard matters with perfect equanimity, passing with contemptuous indifference their unfortunate knightserrant, as they sat moping on the ground with their heads buried in the friendly abeiter of the bushes, but following obediently in the wake of the victor, and evidently disposed to admit to the full extent that none but the brave deserve the fair.'

Having no opportunity of securing any pinioned male pheasants to suppy the place of the three discomfited heroes, he was half inclined to break up his pheasantry, when, writes he,

On entering the enclosure one morning, I was surprised to see a fine old oxxx-pheasant, with a tail of portentous length, take wing from among the midst of the hens, and, with a protracted crow of triumph, fly over the fence to the evergreens beyond. But where was Horatius! Alas! his days were numbered. He had found his match at last. After a long search, I discovered him squatted in a corner, his once brilliant plumage torn and covered with blood. One eye was closed; the other was completely extinguished. His neck was entirely plucked, and as bare as a vulture's. His crimson cheeks were sadly lacerated. His head was absolutely scalped, and where a pair of purple egrets had lately been so proudly erected, a bare skull was now alone visible. Poor fellow! he died the same evening. The rest may be briefly told. Day after day did the conqueror visit his newly acquired territory, and many a youthful rival, too prudent to come into close quarters with the long-spurred tyrant, would pay a stolen visit to his seraglio during his absence and win the favours of his fickle fair ones. I obtained an

immense number of eggs during that season, which proved unusually productive.

But the paradise of pheasants, beautifully described at page 184, is in the demesne of good Mr. Waterton, who blesses all living things that are so fortunate as to come under his benevolent rule. We must pass it, however, though we cannot resist the following passage in the natural history of the bird, accompanied as it is by a charming home view :

The habit of crowing, indulged in at all hours of the day during the breeding season, is not restricted to the purposes of love or the hour of rest. The same note is uttered on quitting his perch at early dawn, and the sound of thunder or distant cannon never fails to produce it. How often, though at a distance of thirty miles, have I heard it elicited by the booming of the Portsmouth guns, when the weather was calm, or the wind in a favourable quarter. But the most remarkable instance of this kind that ever came under my notice occurred on the 11th of March, 1850. It was a clear sunny day, the air cold and frosty, with a gentle breeze from the north-east. I had been riding through Charlton forest, and had just begun to descend the northern slope of the downs by a rugged path above the village of Graffham, when I was induced to halt for a moment to admire the magnificent panoramic view that here suddenly bursts upon the sight. The dark hanging woods of Lavington clothed the steep hills on one side, while on the other their natural forms were varied by smaller clumps of beech and juniper. Below me lay the long and picturesque valley of the Rother, extending from the borders of Hampshire as far as the eye could reach, and varied with wild, heathery commons, evergreen woods, brown copses, and cultivated fields. Immediately opposite was the elevated range of the lower green sandstone formation which forms the southern boundary of the weald of West Sussex; beyond which again, in the distance, might be seen the blue outline of the Surrey downs as they stretched far away into the eastern horizon. I had not gazed long upon this magnificent scene before a deep hollow booming, or protracted concussion-for it was rather felt than heard-shook the earth for some seconds. At the same moment a pheasant in an adjoining copse announced his consciousness shock by a sudden crowing, v hardly ceased before a second succeeded after another in

the

d

third-the loudest of all-induced every cock pheasant in the woods of Lavington to sound his note of alarm. As to myself, I confess I was puzzled how to account for the phenomenon. It was quite different from the rumble produced even by the loudest artillery, and the clear cloudless sky forbade the supposition of its being caused by even distant thunder. On my way home I passed several persons who had heard it, and many of whom had noticed its effect on the pheasants, especially one party of labourers who were employed in repairing a fence near a long hanger-one of the best preserves in the county-they told me that a loud and long continued crowing proceeded from all parts of the wood for many minutes after the last explosion. They too were unable to conjecture the cause of the sound, nor was the mystery unravelled until the following day, when intelligence arrived of the awful explosion and loss of life at Messrs. Curtis and Harvey's powder mills at Hounslow, nearly fifty miles in a direct line from the spot where I heard it.

A plea for the persecuted mole and badger, and some other victims which have no claim to a place in the dark catalogue of vermin-wherein Mr. Knox with truth, we fear, includes the hedgehog as a most desperate egg-destroyer-graces these pages, which give such an account of the various species of grouse as none but a naturalist and observing sportsman can give. Their most bitter enemy, 'the scaul-crow,' corvus cornix, more generally known as the hooded crow and the Royston crow, comes in for a full share of our author's just indignation, and its predatory habits are admirably described.

The great success of Lord Breadalbane, who, from a stock of fiftyfour birds, received from Norway in 1838 and 1839, has accomplished, principally by placing the eggs in the nests of the black grouse, the restoration of the noble capercaillie to our fauna, is duly recorded. All the woods about Taymouth Castle, Drummond Hill, Kenmore Hill, Croftmorraig Hill, for instance, now teem with these grand chieftains of

the grouse tribe, and they already find their way every season to Strath Tay, Blair Athol, and the woods about Crieff. But we must not forget, in our gratitude to Lord Breadalbane, the earlier, though less successful efforts of Lord Fife, who, undaunted by failures, and after persevering through the years of 1828, 1829, 1830, and 1831, hatched in the year last named, five young capercaillies at Braemar.

Every lover of field sports should mark and inwardly digest the chapter on careless shooting, with Sir Edwin's heart-breaking random shot,' and Mr. Wolf's touching 'wounded woodcock,' before him. Mr. Knox, it seems, has a hospital collection, which he exhibits by way of warning to the slovenly shot. Here is an instance of Nature's power in repairing an injury, when reparation is possible :

There is one miserable looking hen pheasant in particular which never fails to attract attention. Her entire beak had been shot away. Indeed, both mandibles and the tongue were gone, leaving a wide aperture, the edges of which, under the healing influence of dame Nature, had hardened into a pair of horny lips; and thus the poor birdunable to procure its usual insect food, or to pick up any scattered grains of corn-was compelled to haunt a small barley stack, near the keeper's house; the sheaves of which being loosely placed together, she contrived to extract the ears separately, and to provide herself with sufficient food, for she was by no means in bad condition when killed by chance at the close of the season.

But we must close this fascinating book, which does not contain a single heavy page, and well deserves the same praise as was awarded to the Ornithological Rambles by so many competent critics. To the present volume, also, the author has brought the two great elements of success-acute observation and an enthusiastic love of his subject.'*

Of the spirited illustrations we need only say that they are from the gifted pencil of Mr. Wolf.