Chapter I: Part 1

_Mooney, Buffalo._ ]

COUNTRY RAMBLES
IN
ENGLAND;
OR
JOURNAL OF A NATURALIST;
WITH NOTES AND ADDITIONS,

BY
THE AUTHOR OF “RURAL HOURS.”

——“Plants, trees, and stones, we note,
Birds, insects, beasts, and many rural things.”

BUFFALO:
PUBLISHED BY PHINNEY & CO.

1853.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by
PHINNEY & CO.
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Northern District
of
New York.

Go forth, my little bark, again, and risk
Once more thy fragile form upon the world’s
Unsteady surge. Rude gales and currents may
Be found to meet thee on thy way, and check
Thy progress to a ready mart: yet steer,
If haply thou canst, thy course—light is
Thy freight, nor rare; and few I deem’d would prize
Such merchandise as thine, nor willing aid
Thee foundering in the wave; but thou hast sail’d
In tranquil seas—warm, sunny gleams have cheer’d
Thee on; and friends—kind friends!—were seen,
Who slighted not thy ware, all rustic as
It was. Yet bear thee steady on thy course;
And chance some wandering trafficker may come
To seek a sample of thy stores, and find
The lading to its invoice true.

PREFACE.

Many years have now passed away since we were presented with that very interesting and amusing book, the “Natural History of Selborne:” nor do I recollect any publication at all resembling it having since appeared. It early impressed on my mind an ardent love for all the ways and economy of nature, and I was thereby led to the constant observance of the rural objects around me. Accordingly, reflections have arisen, and notes been made, such as the reader will find them. The two works do not, I apprehend, interfere with each other. The meditations of separate naturalists in fields, in wilds, in woods, may yield a similarity of ideas; yet the different aspects under which the same things are viewed, and characters considered, afford infinite variety of description and narrative: mine, I confess, are but brief and slight sketches; plain observations of nature, the produce often of intervals of leisure and shattered health, affording no history of the country; a mere outline of rural things; the journal of a traveller through the inexhaustible regions of Nature.

CONTENTS.

Residence of the Author—Extensive prospect on the banks of the
Severn—Welsh mountains, and passages of the river—Roman
encampment upon a British site—Remains of the
Romans—Coins—Skeletons of men and horses—Traces of a
forest—Soils of the parish—Limestone, its abundance and
uses—origin—Rocks formed in the parish by the coral
polypi—analysis of—Rocks of deposit—analysis of—Lead
ore—Carbonate of strontian—Traveller’s foot burned
off—Residences upon Limestone supposed healthy—Employment for
laborers—Amount of stone disposed of—A worthy
peasant—Analysis of soils considered as fallacious—Dairy
processes—Grass lands, their nature—Wild plants—predominating
plants in corn-fields—Soils will produce particular
herbage—Mode of saving hay—Wheat—Culture of the
potato—sorts—expense and profit—effect upon the soil—not
considered as injurious—sketch of its history—its
introduction—some soils not favorable for the root—introduced
later than tobacco—value to mankind—Ignorance of the first
habitants of the Cerealia—Tendency of plants to revert to
their original creation—Original species of the potato cannot
now be ascertained—Component parts of some varieties—Teasel
crops—its introduction—culture—gathering—value—its
cultivation not injurious to the soil—variety of
names—application-consumption—Bad custom in Page 9
farming—“clatters” to 41

Study of natural history no subject of ridicule—to be made an
object in youth—A beautiful Oak tree—magnitude of several
trees—uncertain in producing acorns—a history of the oak
might be written—all its products valuable—Wych elm—its
character—uses—magnitude—name—suffers in early frosts—not
beautiful in autumn—The buff-tip-moth—Trees condense
moisture—Air under trees—verdure—Utility and agency of
foliage—Prevalence of plants in soils—Fetid
hellebore—uses—Village doctress—Blossoms of plants—use not
manifest—Carpenter bee—What flowers most abundant—design of
flowers—application of flowers—love of
flowers—emblems—amusements of children—universal
ornament—cultivation of flowers—bouquet—Poplar tree—formation
of footstalks—its suckers 41–58

Dyers’ broom—gathering—dishonest practice—uses for the
dyer—Conformation of flax and silk—Nature of
color—Snapdragon—an insect trap—Dogsbane—very destructive—the
object mysterious—Glaucous birthwort—Snapdragon vegetates in
great drought—Evaporation from the earth—Ivy—its shelter and
food for birds and insects—love of ivy—ornament to ruins—its
effect—Foxglove—grows only in particular soils—medicinal
uses—uncertain application—name—ancient names—Vindication of
old epithets—Ancient and modern remedies—Snowdrop—a native
plant—remains long in abandoned places—character of the
snowdrop—Yellow oat-grass—affected by drought—Vervain—ancient
estimation, and application—Druids of Gaul—Ancient and modern
virtues—Dyers’ weed—value—uses—cultivation—yellow color—most
permanent and common—Brimstone butterfly—Day’s
eye—Dandelion—Singular appearance of a grass—Brambles—insect
path on the leaves—uses of the bramble—Maple tree—an early
autumn beau—fashion followed by others—maple wood a beautiful
microscopic object—medicinal properties—leaves punctured by
insects—Traveller’s joy—grows in limestone soils by
preference—uses—pores of the wood in the microscope—Vessels
of plants—uninjured by dry seasons—Seeds of the Clematis 58–83

Naturalist’s autumnal walk—beautiful, and full of
variety—Agaric—beauty and variety—plentiful in
Monmouthshire—Agaricus fimi putris—Verdigris agaric—Fungi
very uncertain in their growth—Flower-formed hydnum—Mitred
helvella—Gray puff ball—Fingered clavaria—Agarics, to be
understood, observed in all stages of growth—Perishable
nature of created things—Parasitic fungi—laurel—holly—two-
fronted sphæria—elm leaves—sycamore leaves—bark of plants—the
nut—beech—Odorous agaric—Fragment agaric—‘Stainer’
agaric—Stinking phallus—Mode of propagation—Turreted
puff—Starry puff—Morell—Bell-shaped nidularia—Food for mice 83–95

Marten cat—his capture—well adapted for a predatory life—its
skin—Hedgehog—mode of life—always destroyed—prejudices
against—cruelty of man—an article of food—sensibility of the
spines—Harvest mouse—where found—character—Increase and
decrease of animals—Migration of rats—Water shrew—its
residence and habits—common shrew mouse—Pale blue
shrew—Mole—his actions—character—abundance of—easily
discovers his food—structure of his body—fur and hair of
animals—flesh of the moles—killed by weasels 95–108

Birds—admiration of—The hedge-sparrow—contingencies of its
life—song—example of a domestic character—Willow wren—early
appearance—and departure—nest—object of her
migration—Difficulty of rearing young birds—Golden-crested
wren—Linnet—their song—habits—Bull-finch—character—injurious
to trees—preference of food—no destroyer of
insects—Robin—character—always found—Song of birds—motives
obscure—Chaffinch—beautifully feathered—female, her
habits—country epithets—conduct in spring—moisten their eggs
in hot weather—Parish rewards for vermin—Blue tom-
tit—perishes in winter—mode of obtaining
food—stratagems—Birds distinguished by voice—Cole
mouse—variety of notes—Long-tailed tom-
tit—nests—journeys—eggs—labor to feed their young—winter
food—great variety of nests—Goldfinch—beautiful
nests—Sufferings of the swallow—Maternal care of a little
blue tom-tit—industry—Raven—scared from its nest—faculty of
discovering its food—universally found—duration of
life—reverence—superstitions wearing out—duration of animal
life—aided or injured by man—an old horse—life of
man—Crossbill—breeds in England—Rook—suffers in cold and dry
seasons—his life in the year 1825—various habits of—detects
grubs in the earth—his habits in the
spring—associations—senses—Magpie—nests—habits—plunderers of
the farm-yard—natural affection—Jay—conduct of the old
birds—winter habits—feathers—shrike—nest—young—kills other
birds—a sentinel—its mischievous disposition—Stormy
petrel—habits—Wryneck—its habits—Birds annually
diminishing—Swan pool, Lincoln—Nightingale—migrating
birds—Rooks love long avenues—Starlings—great flights—social
habits—breeding—a stray bird—actions before
roosting—congregate—very attentive to their
young—journeyings—Laborious life of birds—Red-start—Starling,
brown—habits—a very dusky bird—Hawks capture by
intimidation—single out individuals—Early seasons—bring
rain—Blooming of the white thorn—Migrating birds—their
conduct—Butcher-bird—Gray flycatcher—Thrush—instance of
affection—motives of action—utility in a
garden—Sparrows—domestic
habits—manners—increase—destruction—great consumers of
insects—accommodating appetite 108–150

Creatures associating with man—Common mouse—Rat—House
fly—Utility of animals—Conduct of man—The
dog—Wheatear—Country amusements often cruel—Supplication for
pity—Eggs—their markings—Foolish superstition—Kite—his
habits—great capture
of—Blackcap—habits—song—nest—food—shyness—habits of our
occasional visiting birds—Petty chaps—White throats—Willow
wren—Fear of man in animals—Stratagem of a
wren—Instinct—Awakening of birds—Early morning—Morning in
autumn—Goldfinch—captured—die in the winter—soon reconciled
to captivity—Tree-creeper—winters in England—not an
increasing bird—Yellow wagtail—Rapacious birds—Passerine
birds—Buntings—unthatching corn ricks—Old tokens and
signs—White lily—Pimpernel—Mistlethrush—his note—breeds near
the dwellings of man—Change of character in birds—Love of
offspring—Divine appointments—Jack snipe—solitary
habits—Christmas shooter—Association of
birds—Peewit—habits—eggs—Prognostications—Hedge
fruit—Fieldfares—Redwings—feeding in the lowlands—uplands—Egg
of the fieldfare—Rural sounds—notes of birds—Plumage of
birds—Song of birds—Woodlark—habits—voice—capture—Language of
man—of birds—Note significant of danger—Singing a spontaneous
effusion—Variety of note in same species—‘Lady-bird’ note of
a song-thrush—Croaking of the nightingale—Admiration of
birds—Cleanly and innocent creatures 150–189

Knowledge slowly obtained—Entomology a difficult study—Wonders
around us—The objects of many insects unknown—Chrysalis of a
moth—Four-spotted dragon-fly—Ghost moth—soon
destroyed—Specimens of plumage of butterflies—Argus
butterfly—a pugnacious insect—combats—Azure butterfly—seldom
seen—Hummingbird sphinx—habits—wildness—tamed by
familiarity—feigns death—Painted lady butterfly—uncertain in
appearing—Marble butterfly—Wasp—Meadow-brown butterfly—Yellow
winged moth—Admirable butterfly—Gamma moth—Goat moth—their
numbers—odor—power of destruction—Larvæ of phalæena cossus,
where plentifully found—Designs of nature—Evening
ramble—Insects abounding—ignorance of their objects—Glow-
worms—curious contrivance about their
eyes—light—migration—Snake eggs—destruction—harmless in
England—antipathy of mankind to the race—Paucity of noxious
creatures inhabiting with us—Small
bombyx—Vigilance—animation—quarrels—Black ant—combats of
strength—Red ants—mortality—Yellow ants—winter
nests—millipedes—support great degree of cold—Stagnated
water—abounding with insects—Newt—his voracity—Water-flea—an
amusing insect—observed by boys—Dorr beetle—their
numbers—feign death to avoid injury—Cleanliness of creatures
in health—Recurrence to causes—Cockchafers—Changes in
nature—Death’s-head moth—chrysalides—superstitions regarding
the insect—voice—Great water-beetle—its habits and
voracity—Hair worm—its object—Nests of a solitary
wasp—Hornets—their abundance at times, and voracity—kill each
other—Garden snail—its injuries—generally secure from
destruction—faculties—small banded snails—their
numbers—superstitions concerning them—Earth-worms—numbers
of—the prey of all creatures—utility of—drain watery
soils—Inattention to the works of Providence 189–235

Empiricism—Apple-tree blight—progress—injury—White moss
rose—Testacellus halotideus—Cure of the American
blight—Effect of season on the vegetation—Destruction of
grass roots—Honey-dew—Injury to foliage by small moths—Salt
winds—Leasing—its profits—an innocent occupation—ordained by
the Almighty—Old customs—wearing
out—Maypoles—Christmassing—Kitchen bushes—young holly-
trees—Singular conceit—Influence of electric atmosphere on
vegetation—Anecdote of the finding of a guinea—Hummings in
the air—Fairy rings—Spring changes—Periodical winds—Whirly
pits—Sinkings in the earth—Lichen fascicularis—Salt winds
destructive of vegetation—Spottings on apples—spottings on
strawberry leaves—curious agaric—Curious analogy between
plants and animated beings 235–259

The year 1825—its peculiarities and influences—A speedy method
of killing insects—Preserving of insects—Pollarding of
trees—most injurious—Insects that destroy the ash—The willow
rarely seen as a tree—a fine one near Gloucester—Foggy
morning—Reeking of the earth—the cause—and utility—Winter of
the year—Ice in pools—Law of nature—Winter called a dull
season—Nature actively employed—Exhausting powers observed in
the air—A minute vegetable product 259–279

CONTENTS OF APPENDIX.

NOTES—Names for Rural Dwellings—Wild Potato—Wych Elm—Carpenter
Bee—Rose-Beetle—Dyers’ Broom—Carnivorous
Plant—Ivy—Snowdrop—Vervain—Mistletoe—Dyers’ Weed—Brimstone
Butterfly—Furze—Maple—Agarics—Marten—Hedgehog—Mole—Shrew.
BIRDS OF ENGLAND; Rook—Linnet—Bull-finch—House-
sparrow—Jay—Wood-dove—Kestrel—House-marten—Rock-
pigeon—Magpie—Wryneck—Jackdaw—Thrush—Missel-
thrush—Blackbird—Cuckoo—Wren—Halcyon—Wagtail—Swift—Goat-
sucker—Bustard—Grous—Titmouse—Starling—Fieldfare—Raven—House
Fly—Robin—Goldfinch—Sky-lark—Winter Gnat—Butterflies and
Moths—Glow-worm—Slow-worm—Dorr, or Clock-beetle—Death’s-head
Moth—American Blight—Holly—Provincialisms—Fairy
Rings—Æcidium—Pollarding Trees—Ice Floating 281–330

INTRODUCTION.

BY THE AMERICAN EDITOR.

It is now nearly five-and-twenty years since the “Journal of a Naturalist” first appeared in England. The author, Mr. Knapp, has told us himself that the book owes its origin to the “Natural History of Selborne,” a work of the last century, which it is quite needless to say has become one of the standards of English literature; and the reader is probably also aware that the honors acceded to the disciple are, in this instance, scarcely less than those of his master—the Journal of a Naturalist, and Selborne, stand side by side, on the same shelf, in the better libraries of England.

Both volumes belong to a choice class; they are to be numbered among the books which have been written neither for fame nor for profit, but which have opened spontaneously, one might almost say unconsciously, from the author’s mind. The subjects on which they touch are such as must always prove interesting in themselves; like the grass of the field, and the trees of the wood, the growth of both works has been fostered by the showers and the sunshine of the open heavens; and in spite of so much that is artificial in our daily life and habits, there are hours when all our hearts gladly turn to the natural and unperverted gifts of our Maker.

The History of Selborne, and the Journal of a Naturalist, happen to have been both written in the southern counties of England. Selborne, the parish of which the Rev. Gilbert White was Rector, lies on the eastern borders of Hampshire. Mr. Knapp has not given us the name of his own village; but its position in Gloucestershire is minutely described. He tells us that it stands upon a high ridge of land commanding very beautiful views, including the broad estuary of the Severn, and the rich plains on its banks, while the fine mountains of southern Wales fill up the back-ground; a Roman ferry with the sites of ancient stations, and the lines of old roads of the same people, are visible, and the pretty though unimportant town of Thornbury, with its imposing church and castle, occupy the cliffs on the opposite bank of the river.

“The smooth Severn stream,”

with its

“Rush-yfringed bank
Where grows the willow, and the osier dank,”

is the only river of any size in England, running north and south. It rises in Wales, at the foot of Plinlimnon, and winding through some of the finest plains on the island, waters the town of Shrewsbury, Worcester, Tewksbury, and Gloucester. How familiar are all these names to American ears; how the scroll of history unfolds before the mind’s eye as we read their titles! During the last century the importance of the Severn, in a commercial sense, was very great indeed; the movement on the broad estuary by which it flows into the ocean, being perhaps greater, at that period, than that of any other European river, with the single exception of the Thames. Many have been the naval expeditions of importance which have sailed from the Severn; the Cabots when bound on the daring voyage which first threw the light of civilization upon the coast of North America, embarked from the wharves of Bristol. Perchance the scanty sails, and heavy hull of their craft, as it made its way sea- ward, may have been watched by some wondering peasant, toiling in the same fields to which the Naturalist has introduced us.

The mountains of Wales, filling the back-ground of the picture sketched in the author’s opening pages, are very different from those with which American eyes are familiar. Bare and bleak, they are usually wholly shorn of wood, and far bolder in their craggy outline than our own heights. Snowdon, the most important mountain in Wales, rises to a height of 3700 feet. Standing in a northern county of the Principality it is not, however, to be included in a view from the banks of the southern Severn. But the hills of Glamorgan, and Brecon, especially noticed by Mr. Knapp, are upward of 2000 feet in height, and stamped more or less with the same general character. It often happens indeed, from the boldness of position, and the abruptness of outline, which usually mark the mountains of Europe, that heights of no great elevation produce very striking effects in a view.

The fertile alluvial pastures in the immediate foreground of the picture, are those in which Milton’s rivernymph Sabrina, may be supposed to have strayed:

“Still she retains
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs
That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,
Which she with precious vial’d liquors heals;
For which the shepherds at their festivals
Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream
Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.”

The little village, the immediate scene of the Naturalist’s observations, appears to have had an uneventful existence. It lies, we are told, “on a very ancient road,” running between the cities of Gloucester and Bristol; doubtless the tide of war and adventure, must often have swept over the track on many occasions, when the interests of England were battled for in the western counties of the kingdom, but only scanty vestiges of its passage have been found in the little community. A few skeletons, accidentally dug up by the road-side, the bones of horses, the iron head of a single lance, are alone alluded to as memorials of some nameless conflict of the period of Cromwell, and his wars. No stern feudal towers, no ambitious monastic edifices appear to have been raised within the limits of the parish; and, in short, the position of the spot is one associated chiefly with simple rustic labors, and rural quiet, a field especially in harmony with the inquiries and pursuits of the lover of nature.

It is with the vegetation of this unambitious region, and with the living creatures by which it is peopled, that the Naturalist would make us acquainted. He tells us of the trees found in the groves and copses of that open country; of the grasses which grow in the meadows on the banks of the Severn; of the grains and plants cultivated in the hedged fields which line his ancient road. He has a great deal to say about the birds which fly to and fro, with the passing seasons; about the butterflies, and moths which come and go with the summer blossoms, and he is familiar with the lowliest of the creeping things found upon his path. Such simple lore is never without interest to those who delight in the face of the earth, to those who love to honor the Creator in the study of his works. It is pleasant to know familiarly the plants which spring up at our feet; we like to establish a sort of intimacy with the birds which, year after year, come singing about our homes; and, on the other hand, when told of the wonders of a foreign vegetation, differing essentially from our own, when hearing of the habits of strange creatures from other and distant climates, we listen eagerly as to a tale of novelty.

We Americans, indeed, are peculiarly placed in this respect. As a people, we are still, in some sense, half aliens to the country Providence has given us; there is much ignorance among us regarding the creatures which held the land as their own long before our forefathers trod the soil, and many of which are still moving about us, living accessories of our existence, at the present hour. On the other hand, again, English reading has made us very familiar with the names, at least, of those races which people the old world. From the nursery epic, relating the melancholy fate of “Cock Robin,” and the numerous feathered _dramatis personæ_ figuring in its verses; from the tragical histories of “Little Red Riding Hood,” and the “Babes in the Woods;” from the winged and four-footed company of Gay and Lafontaine, from these associates of our childhood to the larks and nightingales of Shakspeare and Milton, we all, as we move from the nursery to the library, gather notions more or less definite. We fancy that we know all these creatures by sight; and yet neither “Cock Robin,” nor his murderer the Sparrow, nor his parson the Rook, is to be found this side the salt sea; the cunning Wolf whose hypocritical personation of the old grandame, so wrung our little hearts once upon a time, is not the wolf which howled only a few years since in the forests our fathers felled; the wily Fox of Lafontaine,

“Certain renard Gascon,
D’autres disent Normand,”

is not the fox of Yankeeland—albeit we have our foxes too! Neither the Marten,

“The temple-loving martlet, does approve
By his lov’d mansioning that the heavens breath
Smells wooingly here. * * *
where they
Most breed, and haunt, I have observed the air
Is delicate;”

nor the nightingale who

“Sings darkling, and in the shadiest covert hid,
Tunes her nocturnal notes;”

nor the lark

“The herald of the morn,”

flies within three thousand miles of our own haunts. Thus it is that knowing so little of the creatures in whose midst we live, and mentally familiar by our daily reading with the tribes of another hemisphere, the forms of one continent and the names and characters of another, are strangely blended in most American minds. And in this dream-like phantasmagoria, where fancy and reality are often so widely at variance, in which the objects we see, and those we read of are wholly different, and where bird and beast undergo metamorphoses so strange, most of us are content to pass through life.

But there is a pleasant task awaiting us. We may all, if we choose, open our eyes to the beautiful and wonderful realities of the world we live in. Why should we any longer walk blindfold through the fields? Americans, we repeat, are peculiarly placed in this respect; the nature of both hemispheres lies open before them, that of the old world having all the charm of traditional association to attract their attention, that of their native soil being endued with the still deeper interest of home affections. The very comparison between the two is a subject full of the highest interest, a subject more than sufficing in itself to provide instruction and entertainment for a lifetime. And yet, how many of us are ignorant of the very striking, leading fact that the indigenous races of both hemispheres, whether vegetable or animal, while they are generally more or less nearly related to each other, are rarely indeed identical. The number of individual plants, or birds, or insects, which are precisely similar in both hemispheres, is surprisingly small.

It will probably be unnecessary to observe that the writer of these remarks must be understood as laying no claim to the honorable position of a teacher, on either of the many branches connected with Natural History; a mere learner herself, she can offer the reader no other guidance than that of companionship, in looking after the birds, or plants, or insects, mentioned by Mr. Knapp. It has indeed been a subject of regret with her, that the task of editing the “Journal of a Naturalist” should not have fallen into hands better able to render the author full justice in this respect. But it is the object of the present edition to prepare this English volume for the American public generally, and for that purpose simple explanations were alone necessary. Anxious, at least, to do all in her power, the editor has consulted the best printed authorities within her reach, and she has also availed herself of the valuable and most obliging assistance of Professor S. F. Baird, Major Le Conte, and Mr. M. A. Curtis, while preparing several of the notes, which will be found in the appendix.

S. F. C.

AUGUST, 1852.

JOURNAL
OF
A NATURALIST.

The village in which I reside is situated upon a very ancient road, connecting the city of Bristol with that of Gloucester, and thus with all the great towns in the North of England. This road runs for the chief part upon a high limestone ridge, from which we obtain a very beautiful and extensive prospect: the broad estuary of the river Severn, the mountains of Glamorgan, Monmouth, and Brecon, with their peaceful vales, and cheerful-looking white cottages, form the distant view: beneath it lies a vast extent of arable and pasture land, gained originally by the power of man from this great river, and preserved now from her incursions by a considerable annual expenditure, testifying his industry and perseverance, and exhibiting his reward. The Aust ferry, supposed to be the “trajectus,” or place where the Romans were accustomed to pass the Severn, is visible, with several stations of that people and the ancient British, being a part of that great chain of forts originally maintained to restrain the plundering inroads of the restless inhabitants of the other bank of the river: Thornbury, with its fine cathedral-like church and castle, the opposite red cliffs of the Severn, and the stream itself, are fine and interesting features.

An encampment of some people, probably Romans, occupies a rather elevated part of the parish, consisting of perhaps three acres of ground, surrounded by a high agger, with no ditch, or a very imperfect one, and probably was never designed for protracted resistance: it appears to form one of the above-mentioned series of forts erected by Ostorius, commencing at Weston, in Somersetshire, and terminating at Bredon in the county of Worcester—ours was probably a specula, or watchhill, of the larger kind. We can yet trace, though at places but obscurely, the roads that connected this encampment with other posts in adjoining villages. A few years sweep away commonly all traces of roads of later periods, and the testimony of some old man is often required to substantiate that one had ever been in existence within the memory of a life; yet these uniting roads, which, as works, must have been originally insignificant, little more than by-ways, after disuse for above fourteen hundred years, and encountering all the erasements of time, inclosures, and the plow, are yet manifest, and an evidence of that wonderful people, thieves and ruffians though they were, who constructed them. There is probably no region on the face of the globe ever colonized, or long possessed, by this nation, which does not yet afford some testimony of their having had a footing on it; this people, who, so long before their power existed, it was predicted, should be of “a fierce countenance, dreadful, terrible, strong exceedingly, with great iron teeth that devoured and broke in pieces,”

——where’er thy legions camp’d,
Stern sons of conquest, still is known,
By many a grassy mound, by many a sculptured stone.

Almost every Roman road that I have observed appears to have been considerably elevated above the surrounding soil, and hence more likely to remain apparent for a length of time than any of those of modern construction, which are flat, or with a slight central convexity; the turf, that in time by disuse would be formed over them, would in one case present a grassy ridge, in the other be confounded with the adjoining land.

Coins of an ancient date, I think, have not been found here;[1] nor do we possess any remains of warlike edifices, or religious endowments. Our laborers have at various times dug up by the road-sides several skeletons of human beings, and of horses; they were in general but slightly covered with earth; and though the bones were much decayed, yet the teeth were sound, and appeared most commonly to have belonged to young persons, and probably had been deposited in their present situations at no very distant period of time. With the bones of a horse so found there remained the iron head of a lance, about a foot long, corroded, but not greatly decayed. Unable better to account for these skeletons, we suppose that they constituted, when alive, part of the forces of General Fairfax, and that they fell in some partial encounters with the peasantry when defending their property about to be plundered by the foragers of his army in 1645, at the time he was besieging the castle of Bristol. The siege lasted sixteen or seventeen days; many parties during that time must have been sent out by him to plunder us cavaliers, and contention would take place.

It is foreign to my plan to enumerate, and it might be difficult to discover, all the changes and revolutions which have taken place here; and I shall merely mention, that this district formerly constituted a regal forest, and we find Robert Fitzharding holding it by grant in the time of King John. We have a “lodge farm,” it is true, and the adjoining grange, the “conygar,” _i. e._ coneygard, the rabbit-keeper’s dwelling, may, perhaps, have been the situation of the sylvan warren; but there are no remains, or any other indications, of a forest ever having been in existence. Names and traditional tales are all that remain in most places now to remind us of the ancient state of England, or to make credible the narratives of our old historians, who lived when Britain was a forest. Where shall we look for the remnants of that mighty wood, filled with boars, bulls, and savage beasts, that surrounded London? Even in our own days, heaths, moors, and wilds, have disappeared, so as to leave no indications of their former state but the name. Woods and forests seem to be the original productions of most soils and countries favorable for the abode of mankind, as if inviting a settlement, and offering materials for its use. As colonies increase, wants are augmented; the woods are consumed; the plow is introduced, division of property follows; a total change and obliteration ensues, though the ancient appellation by which the district was known yet continues.

The parish consists in parts of a poor, shattery gray clay, beneath which we find, in some places, a coarse lias; in others a spongy, rough, impure limestone; in other parts a thin stratum of soil is spread over an immense and irregular rock of carbonate of lime, running to an unknown depth: this in many cases protrudes in great blocks through the thin skin of earth. The rock, though usually stratified, has no uniform dip, but trends to different directions; in some places it appears as if immense sheets of semifluid matter had been pushed out of the station it had settled in, by some other or later-formed heavy-moving mass, or met with an impediment, and so rolled up: that these sheets had not fully hardened at the time of being moved is yet made probable by the whole crystallization of the mass being interrupted; so that no part adheres firmly, but separates into small shattery fragments when struck. This substance we burn in very large quantities for building purposes, and for manure, which, by the facility which we have of obtaining small coal, is rendered at the low rate of three-pence a bushel at the kiln. Our farmers, availing themselves of this cheap article, use considerable quantities, composted with earth, for their different crops, at the rate of not less than a hundred bushels to the acre. This is a favorite substance for their potato land. The return in general is not so large as when grown in manure from the yard; but the root is said to be more mealy, and better flavored.

The utility of lime as manure consists in loosening the tenacious nature of some soils; rendering them more friable and receptive of vegetable fibres: it especially facilitates the dissolution and putrefaction of animal and vegetable substances, which are thus more readily received and circulated in the growing plant; and it has the power of acquiring and long retaining moisture; thus rendering a soil cool and nutritive to the plants that vegetate in it. The power that lime has of absorbing moisture will be better understood, when we say, that one hundred weight will, in five or six days, when fresh, absorb five pounds of water, and that it will retain in the shape of powder, when slackened, or loosened, as is commonly said, nearly one-fourth of its weight.[2]

That lime rehardens after being made soft, as in mortar, is owing to the power which it has of acquiring carbonic acid—the fixed air of Dr. Black—from the atmosphere; when the stone is burned, it loses this principle, but re-absorbs it, though slowly, yet in time, and it thus becomes as hard as stone again: we unite it with sand to promote the crystallization and hardening. The utility of lime in various arts, agriculture, manufactories, and medicine, is very extensive, and in many cases indispensable; and the abundance of it spread through the world seems designed as a particular provision of Providence for the various ends of creation. Lime, and siliceous substances, compose a very large portion of the dense matter of our earth; the shells of marine animals contain it abundantly; our bones have eighty parts in one hundred of it; the egg-shells of birds above nine parts in ten—during incubation, it is received by the embryo of the bird, indurating the cartilages, and forming the bones. But the existence and origin of limestone are pre- eminent amongst the wonders of creation; nor should we have been able, rationally, to account for the great diffusion of this substance throughout the globe, however we might have conjectured the formation, without the Mosaical revelation. It may startle, perhaps, the belief of some, who have never considered the subject, to assert what is apparently a fact, that a considerable portion of those prodigious cliffs of chalk and calcareous stone, that in many places control the advance of the ocean, protrude in rocks through its waters, or incrust such large portions of the globe, are of animal origin—the exuviæ of marine substances, or the labors of minute insects, which once inhabited the deep. In this conclusion now chemists and philosophers seem in great measure to coincide. Fourcroy observed, forty years ago, that “it could not be denied, that the strata of calcareous matter, which constitute, as it were, the bark or external covering of our globe, in a great part of its extent, are owing to the remains of the skeletons of sea animals, more or less broken down by the waters; that these beds have been deposited at the bottom of the sea, immense masses of chalk, deposited on its bottom, absorb or fix the waters, or convert into a solid substance part of the liquid which fills its vast basins.”—_Supplement to Chemistry_, p. 263. Such are the conclusions of philosophical investigation; and the discoveries of all our circumnavigators fully corroborate these decisions as to formation. Revelation in part accounts for the removal of these stupendous masses; though, probably, unrecorded concussions since the great subversion of our planet have, in remote periods, effected many of the removals of these deposits. We find the basement of many of the South Sea Islands, some of which are twenty miles long, formed of this matter. Captain Flinders, in the gulf of Carpentaria, held his course by the sides of limestone reefs, five hundred miles in extent, with a depth irregular and uncertain; and still more recently Captain King, seven hundred miles, almost a continent, of rock, increasing, and visibly forming:—all drawn from the waters of the ocean by a minute creature, that wonderful agent in the hands of Providence, the coral insect. This brief account of the origin of calcareous rocks was, perhaps, necessary before mentioning an extraordinary fact, that, after the lapse of so vast a portion of time since the basement of the mighty deep was heaved on high, existing proofs of this event should remain in our obscure village.

The limestone rocks here are differently composed but are principally of four kinds—a pale gray, hard and compact; a pale cream-colored, fine- grained and sonorous: these form the upper stratum of stone on our down, a recent deposit, or more probably a mass heaved up from its original station. The whole of this mass, running nearly half a mile long, is obviously of animal formation, a coral rock; a compounded body of minute cylindrical columns, the cells of the animals which constructed the material, the mouths of which are all manifest by a magnifier. The stop in the progress of the work is even visible; soft, stony matter having arisen from some of the tubes, and become indurated there in a convex form; in others the creatures have perished, but their forms or moulds remain, though obscure, yet sufficiently perfect to manifest the fact: these tubes, by exposure to the air for any length of time, have the internal or softer parts decomposed, and the stone becomes cellular. This stone burns to a fine white lime, and is very free from impurities, containing in a hundred parts—

Carbonate of lime 88
Magnesia 8
Silex 1
Alumine,[3] colored with iron 3
———
100

Another quarry presents, likewise, unquestionable evidence of an animal origin, veins of it being composed of shattered parts of shells, and marine substances, greatly consumed and imperfect, embedded in a coarse, gray, sparry compound; an ocean deposit, not a fabrication, and consequently has more impurities in its substance than that of insect formation: it contains about

Carbonate of lime 73
Magnesia 11
Clay 14
Silex 2
———
100

These two specimens so clearly prove that the original materials of their substance were derived from the deep, that no further arguments need be advanced to support this fact as to our limestone. The former is, perhaps, the mountain limestone of Werner; the latter a variety of dolomite. Our other quarries, as well as the lower strata of the above, present no such indications of animal formation, and they are probably sediment arising from a minute division of shelly bodies now indurated by time and superincumbent pressure and become a coarse-grained marble. Our limestone thus appearing not to be contaminated with any great portion of magnesian earth, it may be used for all agricultural purposes with advantage. Many detached blocks of limestone are found about us, having broken shelly remains; and the joints of the encrinite, greatly mutilated, embedded in them. Irregularly wandering near the lime-ridge is a vein of impure sandy soil, covering a coarse-grained siliceous stone; sand agglutinated, and colored by oxide of iron, resisting heat, and used in the construction of our lime-kilns: the laborers call it “fire-stone.”

We occasionally, though sparingly, find, in a few places on our downs, nodules of lead ore, which induced persons in years past to seek for mineral riches; but the trial being soon abandoned, the result, I suppose, afforded no reasonable ground for success. We likewise find thin veins of carbonate of strontian, but make no use of it; nor is it noted by us different from common rubbish; nor do I know any purpose to which it is peculiarly applicable, but in pyrotechnics. Spirit of wine, in which nitrate of strontian has been mixed, will burn with a beautiful bright red flame; barytes, which approaches near to strontia, affords a fine green; nitrates of both, compounded with other matters, are used in theatrical representations. Strontian exists in many places, and plentifully; some future wants or experiments will probably bring it into notice, and indicate the latent virtues of this mineral.

Perhaps I may here mention an incident, that occurred a few years past at one of our lime-kilns, because it manifests how perfectly insensible the human frame may be to pains and afflictions in peculiar circumstances; and that which would be torture if endured in general, may be experienced at other times without any sense of suffering. A travelling man one winter’s evening laid himself down upon the platform of a lime-kiln, placing his feet, probably numbed with cold, upon the heap of stones, newly put on to burn through the night. Sleep overcame him in this situation; the fire gradually rising and increasing until it ignited the stones upon which his feet were placed. Lulled by the warmth, the man slept on; the fire increased until it burned one foot (which probably was extended over a vent-hole) and part of the leg above the ankle entirely off; consuming that part so effectually, that a cinder-like fragment was alone remaining; and still the wretch slept on! and in this state was found by the kiln-man in the morning. Insensible to any pain, and ignorant of his misfortune, he attempted to rise and pursue his journey, but missing his shoe, requested to have it found; and when he was raised, putting his burnt limb to the ground to support his body, the extremity of his legbone, the tibia, crumbled into fragments, having been calcined into lime. Still he expressed no sense of pain, and probably experienced none, from the gradual operation of the fire, and his own torpidity, during the hours his foot was consuming. This poor drover survived his misfortunes in the hospital about a fortnight; but the fire having extended to other parts of his body, recovery was hopeless.

Residences upon limestone soils have generally been considered as less liable than other situations to infectious and epidemic disorders; and such places being usually more elevated, they become better ventilated, and freed from stagnated and unwholesome airs, and by the absorbing principle of the soil are kept constantly dry. All this seems to favor the supposition that they are healthy; but if exempted from ailments arising from mal-aria, inflammatory complaints do not seem excluded from such situations. When the typhus fever prevailed in the country, we were by no means exempted from its effects; the severe coughs attending the spring of 1826 afflicted grievously most individuals in every house; and the measles, which prevailed so greatly at the same season, visited every cottage, though built upon the very limestone rock.

This village and its neighboring parishes, by reason of the peculiar culture carried on in them, and the natural production of the district, afford the most ample employment for their laboring inhabitants; nor perhaps could any portion of the kingdom, neither possessing mineral riches, manufactories, or mills, nor situate in the immediate vicinity of a great town, be found to afford superior demand for the labor, healthy employment, and reasonable toil of its population. Our lime- kilns engage throughout the year several persons; this is, perhaps, our most laborious employ; though its returns are considered as fair. In our culture, after all the various business of the farms, comes the potato- setting; nor is this finished wholly before haymaking commences. Teaseling succeeds; the corn harvest comes on, followed shortly by the requirements of the potato again, and the digging out and securing this requires the labor of multitudes until the very verge of winter. Then comes our employment for this dark season of the year, the breaking of our limestone for the use of the roads, of which we afford a large supply to less favored districts. This material is not to be sought for in distant places, or of difficult attainment, but to be found almost at the very doors of the cottages; and old men, women, and children can obtain a comfortable maintenance by it without any great exertion of strength, or protraction of labor. The rough material costs nothing: a short pickax to detach the stone, and a hammer to break it, are all the tools required. A man or healthy woman can easily supply about a ton in the day; a child that goes on steadily, about one-third of this quantity; and as we give one shilling for a ton, a man, his wife, and two tolerable-sized children, can obtain from 2_s._ 8_d._ to 3_s._[4] per day by this employ, the greater part of the winter; and should the weather be bad, they can work at intervals, and various broken hours, and obtain something—and there is a constant demand for the article. The winter accumulation is carted away as the frost occurs, or the spring repair comes on. Our laborers, their children and cottages, I think, present a testimony of their well-doing, by the orderly, decent conduct of the former, and the comforts of the latter. There are years when we have disposed of about 3000 tons of stone, chiefly broken up for use by a few of our village poor; if we say by twenty families, it will have produced perhaps seven pounds[5] to each, a most comfortable addition to their means, when we consider that this has been obtained by the weak and infirm, at intervals of time without more than the cost of labor, when employment elsewhere was in no request.

I may perhaps be pardoned in relating here the good conduct of a villager, deserving more approbation than my simple record will bestow; and it affords an eminent example of what may be accomplished by industry and economy, and a manifestation that high wages are not always essential, or solely contributive to the welfare of the laborer.—When I first knew A. B., he was in a state of poverty, possessing, it is true, a cottage of his own, with a very small garden; but his constitution being delicate, and health precarious, so that he was not a profitable laborer, the farmers were unwilling to employ him. In this condition he came into my service: his wife at that time having a young child contributed very little to the general maintenance of the family: his wages were ten shillings per week, dieting himself, and with little besides that could be considered as profitable. We soon perceived that the clothing of the family became more neat and improved; certain gradations of bodily health appeared; the cottage was whitewashed, and inclosed with a rough wall and gate; the rose and the corchorus began to blossom about it; the pig became two; and a few sheep marked A. B. were running about the lanes: then his wife had a little cow, which it was “hoped his honor would let eat some of the rough grass in the upper field;” but this was not entirely given: this cow, in spring, was joined by a better; but finding such cattle difficult to maintain through the winter, they were disposed of, and the sheep augmented. After about six years’ service, my honest, quiet, sober laborer died, leaving his wife and two children surviving: a third had recently died. We found him possessed of some money, though I know not the amount; two fine hogs, and a flock of forty-nine good sheep, many far advanced in lamb; and all this stock was acquired solely with the regular wages of ten shillings a week, in conjunction with the simple aids of rigid sobriety and economy, without a murmur, a complaint, or a grievance!

I report nothing concerning our variously constituted soil, thinking that no correct statement can be given by any detail of a local district under cultivation, beyond generally observing its tendency, as every soil under tillage must be factitious and changeable. As a mere matter of curiosity, I might easily find out the proportions of lime, sand, clay, and vegetable earth, &c., that a given quantity of a certain field contained; but the very next plowing would perhaps move a substratum, and alter the proportions; or a subsequent dressing change the analysis: the adjoining field would be differently treated, and yield a different result. I do not comprehend what general practical benefit can arise from chemical analysis of soils; but as eminent persons maintain the great advantages of it, I suppose they are right, and regret my ignorance. That the component parts of certain lands can easily be detected, and the virtues or deficiencies of them for particular crops be pointed out, I readily admit; but when known, how rarely can the remedy be applied! I have three correspondents, who send me samples of their several farms, and request to know by what means they can meliorate the soil. I find that B. is deficient in lime; but understand in reply, that this earth is distant from his residence, and too costly to be applied. D. wants clay; E. is too retentive and cold, and requires silex or sand; but both are so circumstanced, that they cannot afford to supply the article required. Indeed it is difficult to say what ought to be the component parts of a soil, unless the production of one article or grain is made the standard; for differently constituted soil will produce different crops advantageously: one farm produces fine wheat, another barley; others again the finest oats and beans in the parish. To compound a soil of exact chemical parts, so as to afford permanent fertility, is a mere theory. Nature and circumstances may produce a piece of land, that will yield unremitting crops of grass, and we call it a permanently good soil; but art cannot effect this upon a great scale. A small field in this parish always produces good crops; not in consequence of any treatment it receives, but by its natural composition; consisting principally of finely pulverized clay, stained with red oxide of iron, a considerable portion of sand, and vegetable earth: but though I know the probable cause of this field bearing such good wheat, I cannot bring the surrounding and inferior ones into a like constitution, the expense far exceeding any hope of remuneration. Rudolph Glauber obtained gold from common sand, but it was an expensive article! Temporary food for a crop may be found in animal, vegetable, or earthy manures, but these are exhaustible; and when aliment ceases, the crop proportionably diminishes. In one respect, chemical investigation may importantly aid the agriculturist, by pointing out the proportion of magnesian earth in certain limes used for manure, and thus indicate its beneficial or injurious effects on vegetation. I should not like lime containing 20 per cent. of this earth; but when it contains a much smaller proportion, I should not think it very deleterious. This earth acts as a caustic to vegetation, and, neither being soluble in water, nor possessing the other virtue of lime, diminishes the number of bushels used according to its existence, and thus deprives the crop of that portion of benefit: but after all, as Kirwan says, the secret processes of vegetation take place in the dark, exposed to the various and indeterminable influence of the atmosphere; and hence the difficulty of determining on what peculiar circumstance success or failure depends, for the diversified experience of years alone can afford a rational foundation for solid and specific conclusions.

The real goodness of a soil consists principally, perhaps, in the power it possesses of maintaining a certain degree of moisture; for without this, the plant could have no power of deriving nutriment from any aliment: it might be planted on a dung-hill; but if this had no moisture in it, no nutriment would be yielded; but as long as the soil preserves a moisture, either by its own constituent parts, or by means of a retentive substratum, vegetation goes on. Continue the moisture, and increase the aliment, and the plant will flourish in proportion; but let the moisture be denied by soil, substratum, or manure, and vegetation ceases; for, though certain plants will long subsist by moisture obtained from the air, yet, generally speaking, without a supply by the root, they will languish and fade.

Our dairy processes, I believe, present nothing deserving of particular notice. From our milk, after being skimmed for butter, we make a thin, poor cheese, rendered at a low price, but for which there is a constant demand. Some of our cold lands, too, yield a kind greatly esteemed for toasting; and we likewise manufacture a thicker and better sort, though we do not contend in the market with the productions of north Wilts, or the deeper pastures of Cheshire or Huntingdon.

The agriculture of a small district like ours affords no great scope to expatiate upon: great deviations from general practice we do not aim at; experimental husbandry is beyond our means, perhaps our faculties. Local habits, though often the subject of censure, are frequently such as the “genius of the soil” and situation render necessary, and the experience of years has proved most advantageous.

Our grass in the pastures of the clay-lands, in the mowing season, which, from late feeding in the spring and coldness in the soil, is always late,[6] presents a curious appearance; and I should apprehend, that a truss of our hay from these districts, brought into the London market, or exhibited as a new article of provender at a Smithfield cattle-show, would occasion conversation and comment. The crop consists almost entirely of the common field scabious (scabiosa succisa), loggerheads (centauria nigra), and the great ox-eye daisy (chrysanthemum lucanthemum.) There is a scattering of bent (agrostis vulgaris), and here and there a specimen of the better grasses; but the predominant portion, the staple of the crop, is scabious—it is emphatically a promiscuous herbage; yet on this rubbish do the cattle thrive, and from their milk is produced a cheese greatly esteemed for toasting—melting, fat, and good flavored, and, perhaps, inferior to none used for this purpose. The best grasses, indeed, with the exception of the dogstail (cynosurus cristatus), do not delight in our soil: the meadow poa (p. pratensis), and the rough stalked poa (p. trivialis), when found, are dwarfish; and having once occasion for a few specimens of the foxtail (alopecurus pratensis), I found it a scarce and a local plant: but I am convinced, from much observation, that certain species of plants, and grasses in particular, are indigenous to some soils, and that they will vegetate and ultimately predominate over others that may be introduced. In my own very small practice, a field of exceedingly indifferent herbage was broken up, underwent many plowings, was exposed to the roastings of successive suns, and alternations of the year under various crops; amongst others that of potatoes; the requisite hackings, hoeings, and diggings of which alone were sufficient to eradicate any original fibrous, rooted herbage. This field was laid down with clean ray grass (lolium perenne), white trefoil, and hop clover, and did tolerably well for one year: and then the original soft-grass, (holcus lanatus) appeared, overpowered the crop, and repossessed the field; and yet the seed of this holcus could not have lain inert in the soil all this time, as it is a grass that rarely or never perfects its seed, but propagates by its root. The only grass that is purposely sown—trefoils are not grasses—is, I believe, the ray, or rye, no others being obtainable from the seedsman: this we consider as perennial; yet, let us lay down two pieces of land with seeds, from the same sack, the one a low, moist, deep soil, the other a dry upland, and in three or four years we shall find the natural herbage of the country spring up, dispute and acquire in part possession of the soil, in despite of the ray grass sown: in the deep soil, the predominant crop will probably consist of poæ, cockfoot, meadow-fescue, holcus, phleum, foxtail, &c.; in the dry soil it will be dogstail, quaking grass, agrostis, &c., not one species of which was ever sown by us. It appears that the herbage of our poor thin clay-lands is the natural produce of the soil, for every fixed soil will produce something, and would without care always exclude better herbage. Attention and manures, a kind of armed force, would certainly support other vegetation, alien introductions, for a time, but the profit would not always be adequate. In a piece of land of this nature I have suppressed the natural produce, by altering the soil with draining, sheep-feeding, stocking up, and composting: and scabious, carnation grass, mat grass, and their companions, no longer thrive; but if I should remit this treatment, they would again predominate, and constitute the crop.