"In due time," writes his biographer, "he discovered the region best suited to his taste and happiness, in the 'laigh' of Moray, a fertile and well cultivated country, with dry soil and bright and bracing climate, with wide views of sea and mountain, within easy distance of mountain sport, in the midst of the game and wild animals of a low country, and with the coast indented by bays of the sea and studded with frequent fresh-water lakes, the haunt of all the common wild-fowl and of many of the

rarer sorts."

many natives of the capital and of the provin- | London,-the life appointed for him by his cial towns of England have no definite con- family,-and he soon emancipated himself, nexion with any rural district; but in Scot- got down among the solitudes of Sutherland, land, all of us without exception are "of" had the fortune to find a wife there, and consome country. Even the tradesman who tinued ever after to lead the life of a sportsworks in a hereditary shop in Edinburgh, man and naturalist, his choice of residence has a bond of kindred in some farm cr rural only partly modified by the convenience of village, where his children go to spend their his family, and their education. holidays; and Donald McAlpine, who sells whiskey in a cellar of the Gallowgate of Glasgow, has his memory stored with the stories of his native glen in the far west, and perhaps some notion of gentility, as the laird's far awa kinsman. To that glen his affections turn. He may never get there; he is unfit for its life. But in feeling and imagination he is still the Highlander. We have said that a sportsman readily becomes a naturalist. The pleasure of studying the animals of game is apt to preponderate over the amusement of hunting them. A good specimen of this order of sportsman was Mr. St. John, the author whose work stands first of those prefixed to this Article. Without a scientific education, or any peculiar addiction to science, he has, by the accuracy of his observations and faithful description, made a name and established an authority among naturalists; while St. John continued to reside in Morayhis hearty love for sport and all rural pleas-shire for the most part till his fatal malady ures has given his volumes a place on the and premature death. His Wild Sports of shelf with White's History of Selborne, and the Highlands has, since its publication in the books that charmed our youth. 1846, been a standard work with all lovers Charles St. John was well-born, being the of his pursuits. The present volume is a segrandson of Frederick second Viscount Bo-lection from his journals, and correspondlingbroke. We get a slender outline of his ence with friends. The arrangement of life in this volume, and something of his these materials, which is according to months, school-habits we derive from his friend and may in some instances have the advanfellow-sportsman, Mr. Jeans :tage of furnishing a comparison of a particular season in several different years, but this scarcely compensates for the broken and fragmentary shape it has given the book. We observe, too, some uncertainty as to the precise years in which certain observations are recorded, and here and there a little repetition, either of something already noticed in this volume, or of remarks in the author's other works.

"At school he was far ahead of me in all the theory and some of the practice of wild sports.' But it was under the tuition of a certain old pensioner, who in virtue of his weekly function in the school, went by the name of the drill-sergeant, that we both attained to no mean proficiency in spinning for trout and trolling for pike in the river Arun whenever we could shirk out of bounds on half-holidays, as well as in setting night-lines artistically for eels.

What an advantage to a district to attach to it a writer like St. John! The whole land, its rivers, lakes, hills, and valleys, become classical, and that which before was only known as a good wheat-growing champaign is henceforward familiar in the mouths of naturalists and that larger class, the lovers of nature and sport.

These defects make us regret the more that "Even at that time St. John had the zoologi- St. John had not lived to give his collections cal bump largely developed. His box (or scobb, as we used to call it, after the Winchester fash to the world. His arrangement of his own ion) was generally a sort of menagerie-dormice materials would have added immeasurably in the one till, stag-beetles of gigantic size, and to their value; but, taking it as it is, we wonderful caterpillars in paper boxes, in the find in this little volume a mass of very careother, while sometimes a rabbit, sometimes a ful observations of natural objects of interest guinea-pig, or perhaps a squirrel, was lodged to all sportsmen and naturalists. For the below in a cell cunningly constructed of the district where the writer lived, and to which Delphin classics and Ainsworth's Dictionary. he especially directed his attention, the book He was scarcely ever without live stock of some sort."

is invaluable.

In trying to give some account of this unA youth of this nature was not likely to pretending collection, let us first state the endure the restraint of a public office in author's own claim of merit :—

"I have been particularly careful to describe |losopher who prefers the virtues of savage and note down nothing, the authenticity of life:which I am not certain of. Indeed, every bird here mentioned, with one or two exceptions, I have either killed or seen myself during my wanderings in wood and plain for several years in this district. I have carefully avoided the great error of taking things on hearsay."

Take a description of a minute favourite as a specimen of simple, truthful painting : "The little water-rail (Rallus aquaticus) seems to be a great wanderer. I find its track, and the bird itself, in the most unlikely places; for instance, I put up one in a dry furze field, and my retriever caught another in a hedge, at some distance from the water. I took the latter bird home alive to show to my children. When I took him out of my pocket, in which most unaccustomed situation he had been for two hours, the strange little creature looked about him with the greatest nonchalance possible, showing fight at everything that came near him; and when, after having gratified the curiosity of the children, we turned him loose in a ditch of running water, he went away jerking up his tail, and not seeming to hurry himself, or to be in the least disconcerted."

"Some wild ducks that I had domesticated became gregarious, one drake serving many ducks, like tame poultry. But, one season, having been neglected, and wandering out in the fields and ditches, they resumed their wild habits, paired, built, and lived in pairs quite conjugally."

Most sportsmen know, by the peculiar sloping upward soar of the wood-pigeon, when the bird has young, but we have not before heard this observation of the crow :

"When a crow leaves her nest on being disturbed, her quiet, sneaking manner of threading her way through the trees tells that she has young or eggs in the thicket, as plainly as if she uttered cries of alarm."

Let this touch of nature help to show that sportsmen are not cruel and hard-hearted:—

"I remember a hen grouse being caught by the leg in a common vermin trap which had been set for ravens. It happened that the trap was not looked at till late the folloring day, when we found that the cock grouse had St. John's residence was always a recep- quantity of young heather shoots: they were brought and laid to his unfortunate mate a tacle for wounded animals, and a multitude enough to have nearly filled a hat, and the of pets kept by his children,-wild-fowl, poor bird must have been employed many hawks, roe, owls, ravens, now and then a hours in collecting them. I cannot express trapped fox; whatever was tameable was how grieved I was at the hen having been tamed, but nothing was refused the benefit caught." of that sanctuary.

The keeper at Spynie had caught a wounded pochard, and it was taken to St. John's, where it soon got familiar, and lived in comfort till an accident occurred :

"About three weeks ago our tame pochard had been carried away in a hurricane of wind, To my surprise, one day this month, I saw this same pochard swimming about the loch alone, and apparently very tame. One of the children who was with me, and whose own especial property the bird had been, whistled to it in the same way in which he had been accustomed to call it upon which, to his unbounded joy, it immediately came towards us, and for some time continued swimming within a few yards of where we stood, evidently recognising us, and seeming glad to see us again.

"A few days afterwards we again saw him; but he was now accompanied by a flock of

fourteen or fifteen others. This was remarkable, both on account of the time of year, and because this kind of duck is very rare in this region, and has never been known to breed in the neighbourhood: but all birds seem to have some means of calling and attracting those of the same species, in a way that we cannot understand." (June, p. 169.)

The following observation, though not new, is more definite, and apparently from more precise experiment than it has been given before :

"The change of colour in fish is very rePut a living black burn trout into a white basin markable, and takes place with great rapidity. of water, and it becomes, within half an hour, of a light colour. Keep the fish living in a white jar for some days, and it becomes, absolutely white; but put it into a dark-coloured or black vessel, and although, on first being placed there, the white-coloured fish shows most conspicuously on the black ground, in a quarthe bottom of the jar, and consequently diffiter of an hour, it becomes as dark coloured as cult to be seen.

We were not aware before that a bird, like human house-keepers, enlarged her dwelling to suit an increasing family :

"I observed a very curious thing with regard to a wren in the spring of 1852. A wren had built and hatched her eggs in a nest placed in a narrow hole in a wall. It seemed to me that as her young ones became full grown the nest would be rather small for them. The old birds became aware of this, and built a large nest in a tree opposite the first nest, and as soon as the

We do not remember to have seen the following fact noted by naturalists before. It may serve for an illustration to the phi-the same fact, vol. i. p. 45.

* The author of Life in Normandy has also noted

floats with tolerable ease, its motions, when on the surface, rather resemble those of a land bird accidentally falling into the water than those of a swimmer."

young ones were able to fly at all, they betook | its habit of suddenly, in the midst of its flight, themselves to the newly-built abode, which was plunging down into the water, where, though it larger than usual, and not lined. For some little time afterwards, whenever there was a heavy shower, and these happened to be rather frequent, the whole brood, eight in number, took refuge in the new nest. They also roosted in it every night for a short time."

Some habits of birds are interesting from our interest in the birds themselves, and more so from their being subjects of controversy. We believe the observation of the water-ousel walking at the bottom of the water is still questioned. The manner in which the woodcock carries its young is no longer disputed :

"A water-ousel (Hydrobata cinclus) in the burn has two eggs. The nest is built in a broken bank. One of my boys took the water-ousel's nest, an immense building for the size of the bird, the whole being fully as large as a pail, made of moss butwardly, and lined with dried grass, etc. This little bird of very singular habits changes its ground with the season. In spring and summer it frequents the highland burns and solitary streams, where it breeds; on the approach of winter it descends lower down the streams and rivers, where it feeds on trout spawn, small waterbeetles, etc. It has a peculiar habit, while flying along a stream, of suddenly dropping into the water, where it either swims, or rather floats, on the surface, or dives down at once to the bottom, where it searches actively for its food-the beetles, which form great part of its food, being found on the stones and gravel at the bottom of the water. I never saw the water-ousel feed on any insect which it caught out of the water or even on the surface; its whole food seems to be found at the bottom. Though the fact has often been doubted, it certainly runs and scratches up the stones while at the bottom in search of food. It has a sweet song (though not loud), which it utters frequently in the depth of winter, and on the coldest and severest days. It breeds earlier than most other birds. I have found eggs on the 8th of April. The nest is placed in a broken wall, under an overhanging bank, amongst the roots of a tree, or other similar situation, but always on the water's edge, and covered over the top, built of moss, leaves, etc. It is frequently of very great size, as the bird fixes on a broken bank sometimes, and has to build a very large foundation to make her nest steady. The eggs are a pure white. Sitting on a stone often in the midst of a rapid stream or waterfall, the white breast of the water-ousel is conspicuous amongst all surrounding objects, and day after day it enlivens and adds an interest to the same part of a stream for many weeks, till the time comes for its partial migration. In the following spring the same stone or point of rock is again tenanted. The bird frequently runs into and under the water in the midst of a tolerably strong rapid, keeping out of sight for some moments, but emerging again at no great distance. I have before mentioned

In the North of Scotland-say from Deeside northwards-woodcocks often stay all the year, and nest and breed. Mr. St. John tells us:

"The nest is placed at the foot of a tree in a patch of long heather, or indeed in any sheltered place; most frequently in the driest and densest parts of the woods. It is formed of dry grass, leaves, etc., and is shallow, and made without much apparent care. The eggs are four in number, of a pale yellowish brown, blotched and spotted with reddish brown. They, however, vary much. As soon as the young are hatched, the old birds are obliged to carry them to the feeding ground, which is often at some distance. The young, though able to run immediately, are tender helpless little things, and could by no means scramble through the tangled heather and herbage which often surrounds their nest, perhaps for many hundred yards. It long puzzled me how this portage was effected. That the old birds carried their young I had long since ascertained, having often seen them in the months of April and May in the act of doing so, as they flew towards nightfall from the woods down to the swamps in the low grounds. From close observation, however, I found out that the old woodcock carries her young, even when larger than a snipe, not in her claws, which seem quite incapable of holding up any weight, but by clasping the little bird tightly between her thighs, and so holding it tight towards her own body. In the summer and spring evenings the woodcocks may be seen so employed passing to and fro, and uttering a gentle cry, on their way from the woods to the marshes. They not only carry their young to feed, but also if the brood is suddenly come upon in the daytime, the old bird lifts up one of her young, flies with it fifty or sixty yards, drops it quietly, and flies silently on. The little bird immediately runs a few yards, and then squats flat on the ground amongst the dead leaves, or whatever the ground is covered with. The parent soon returns to the rest of her brood, and if the danger still threatens her, she lifts up and carries away another young bird in the same manner. I saw this take place on the 18th May; the young were then larger than, or fully as large as, a suipe."

We are happy to say our author is on the side of the small birds in the controversy with the farmer and gardener. He defends the rook too, and even makes a plea for the wood-pigeon now increasing so alarmingly. The hooded crow he gives up

as a mischievous and voracious robber.

Speaking of the system of vermin-trapping,
St. John remarks:-

"One advantage certainly results from birds | an hour or less, I have to load and fire as fast of prey being killed off: blackbirds, thrushes, as I can, as they fly over. I prefer shooting and numerous other beautiful little birds, in- them on the wing, for if I let them pitch in the crease in proportion as their enemies are de- water, my dog has a swim every time I kill one, stroyed. In several districts where, a few and gets half dead with ice and frozen snow. years ago, these birds were very rare, they are "The mallards generally fly in from the sea now abundant. The ring-ousel, too, is one of rapidly, and at no great height; but it requires the birds who has benefited by this destruction some practice to kill them, as their flight is of its enemies. There are some other birds, much quicker than it appears, and they require such as the wheat ear and tit-lark, who are sel- a hard blow to kill them dead. If wounded dom killed by a hawk, but whose nests and only they fly off, and, dropping at some disyoung are the constant prey of weasels and tance, I can seldom get them that night, owing other ground-vermin. These have also good to the approaching darkness. Sometimes my reason to thank the trapper. Wood-pigeons, retriever marks the direction of a wounded whose eggs were formerly taken by the crows duck and gets it, but generally they are lost, and magpies in great numbers, and whose and serve only to feed the foxes, who seem to young serve to feed many kinds of hawks, now hunt regularly for maimed birds round the increase yearly, and begin to be a subject of lakes. Having killed ten mallards and a teal, great complaint amongst farmers; and yet the it becomes too dark to shoot any more, although wood-pigeon during a great part of the year I still hear their wings as they fly over my feeds on the seeds of many weeds and plants head. Besides which, I have nearly three useless or mischievous." miles to walk; and my keeper, who has also killed two or three, had, before we commenced duck-shooting, sundry animals to carry, the produce of my day's wanderings. We have to walk home too, there being no road near these lakes. So, after I have refilled my pipe, and the old fellow has recharged his nose with a spoonful of snuff, we shoulder our game and set off. Eight or ten fat mallards are no slight load over a rough track in the dark, so we keep the sands as far as possible, listening to the different cries of the sandpipers, curlews, and numerous kinds of wild-fowl who feed on the shallows and sandbanks during the night time. Occasionally, in the moonlight, we catch a glimpse of the mallards as they rise from some little stream or ditch which runs into the bay, or we see a rabbit hurrying up at our approach from the sea-weed which he had been nibbling. In this way, with very little trouble, and often much nearer home, I can generally reckon on getting some few brace of wild-ducks in the winter; shifting my place of ambush according to the weather, the wind, etc., changes in which cause the birds to take to different feedingplaces.

No country affords better common wildfowl shooting than that where St. John took his sport; and it gives some game of a nobler and rarer sort. He thus describes making a bag in a winter's evening; the scene is Loch-lee, between Nairn and Brodie :

It requires more trouble to approach the wary wild goose :

"Just before sunset I take up my position in the midst of two or three furze bushes, within easy shot of where a small stream runs into one of the lakes, keeping the water constantly open. Having given my retriever the biscuit which I always carry for him on these cold days, I light my pipe (the great comfort of the patient wildfowl shooter) and look out towards the bay for the mallards. The bay is nearly half a mile off; but I can see the ducks between me and the sky almost as soon as they leave it. At first a solitary pair or two come, quietly and swiftly, probably making their way to some favourite spring farther inland. With the help of a cartridge, I bring down a brace from a great height, as they pass over; sometimes, tumbling on the ice of the loch behind me, they are nearly split in two; sometimes, when winged, they fall in the rushy stream, and give the retriever no small trouble and cold before he gets them; however, he always succeeds, and having brought the bird and received his reward of ship-biscuit, he lies down again, but with eyes and ears all intent on what is going on. The sea-gull or heron may pass, and he takes no notice of them; but the moment that a wild-duck's quack, or the whistle of his wings is heard, the dog's ears erect themselves, and he watches my face with a look of most inquiring eagerness. I hear the wild-swans trumpeting on the sea, but know that they are not very likely to come where I am placed. Presently, a brace of teal pitch suddenly and unexpected-carried, and having looked along the shores of ly within a few yards of me, having flitted in from behind. I kill the drake, but cannot get a shot at the duck, as she flies low, and the smoke, hanging heavily in the calm evening, prevents my seeing her. But all at once the mallards begin to fly from the sea, and, for half

"To stalk a flock of wild-geese when feeding is as difficult as to stalk a stag, if not more so. From the nature of the ground which they feed on, and their unwearied vigilance, unless you have concealed yourself beforehand within reach of their feeding-place, it is nearly impossible to approach them. . . . One of my boys was out for a walk with a gentleman who was staying with me, to whom he was acting as cicerone or guide to the lochs, as I was unable for some reason to go out with him myself. The little boy took the telescope, which their attendant

the lakes and through all the likely parts of the ground, which he knew as well as I did, from having frequently ridden that way to join me, he shut up the glass with the exclamation, characteristic of a deerstalker-There they are!' My friend's question of course was,

'Who are there?' And on being told it was | March, my situation in a damp island and wet a flock of geese, he at once understood why through above my knees began to be uncomhe had been led on from point to point under fortable. different excuses; for he had good-naturedly followed passively wherever he was told to go. Having been shown the geese, he sat down with the glass and allowed the child to attempt the task of stalking them, but without having the slightest expectation of his success. He watched the boy for some time till he became invisible, having apparently sunk into the ground amongst the rushes and long grass. His attention was next attracted by seeing the geese suddenly rise, and almost immediately perceiving that one fell to the ground. The next instant he heard the double report of the boy's gun. Another goose left the flock and fell at some distance, but it was unnoticed by him and the servant, as their attention was taken up by the young sportsman, who went dashing through water and swamp to seize the first bird that fell. It was nearly as big as himself, and he brought it up to them in triumph, a successful right and left at wild geese being rather an era in the sporting adventures of a boy ten years old. "

Ascending in the scale, we have our author stalking the wild swan:

"March 6.-I have tried two or three days to get at the largest wild swan on Lochlee, but without success; my fruitless attempts I do not mark down-horas non numero nisi serenas. However, to-day-a fine sunny day-as I passed at some distance from the lake where the swans were feeding, they rose and alighted on the largest of the pieces of water; seeing this, and that they were not inclined to take to the sea immediately, I sent the boy who was with me round the lake where they were, while I made my preparations for receiving them at their feeding lake, supposing that they would return to it if allowed to rest for an hour or so, and then quietly moved; even if they did not alight, I knew that I was pretty sure of their line of flight to the sea, and they seldom flew very high. I waded across part of the loch to an island, where I determined to await them, and set to work to make up a hiding-place of long heather, etc. This done, I loaded my gun with large shot and cartridges, and established myself behind my barricade. With my glass I saw the boy and retriever go round towards them; the appearance of the swans floating quietly on the water was most picturesque, their white forms being clearly defined on the dark blue water, and their shadows almost as distinct as themselves. They all held their heads erect, watching the boy, who, as he had been instructed, walked to and fro opposite the birds and sufficiently near to put them up, but without appearing to be in pursuit of them. I hoped by this means to drive them over to the loch where I was concealed without frightening them so much as to make them take off to the sea. They seemed unwilling to rise, and little afraid of the boy, whom they appeared to look at with curiosity rather than alarm, and I struck a light in order to smoke the pipe of patience and resignation, for, fine as the day was for

"The latakia was not half puffed away when I heard the well-known warning cry of the swans, and immediately looking round, saw them just flapping along the water preparatory to their flight. Cocking my gun, and holding the pipe tighter in my teeth, I waited anxiously to see in what direction they would fly. At first they made straight eastward, as if off for the Bay of Findhorn, but after a short flight in that direction they turned, and I saw them coming three and three together, as usual, straight towards where I was concealed. In a few minutes they were exactly over my head at a good height, but still within shot, flying with their long necks stretched straight out and their black feet tucked up, but plainly visible as they passed over me. I stood up and took a deliberate aim at the largest of them as he ascended higher into the air at my unexpected appearance. The first barrel seemed to have little effect on him, though I distinctly heard the shot rattle on his strong quills; the second, however, which was loaded with larger shot, was more effective: whilst his two companions continued crying to each other, he remained silent. However, he kept up with the rest, and they all went off towards the bay. In the meantime three smaller swans came within twenty yards of me, or less, trumpeting and calling loudly.

"With the glass I watched the bird I had fired at, as I knew he was hard hit. He still, however, held his way with the rest, and they were gradually getting indistinct when I saw him suddenly rise straight up into the air, his snowy plumage shining as it caught the rays of the sun. I saw him a second time rise perpendicularly to a great height; he then suddenly turned backwards in the air and tumbled headlong to the ground perfectly dead. He was above half a mile or more from me, in the direction of the bay, and the whole intervening ground was covered with sandhills and bent, so that I could not see the exact spot where he fell, whether on the dry ground or in the sea. However, I marked the direction as well as I could, and set off after him. Large as he was, I had a long and for some time a fruitless search amongst the broken sandhills. I scanned the bay with the glass in vain, and then came back towards the lochs. At last I hit upon him by finding a quantity of blood on the sand, and following the drops which had fallen almost in a stream: in fact the track of blood, though falling from such a height, was as conspicuous as that of a wounded hare on snow. At length I came on the swan, who was lying stretched out on the sand, and a noble bird he was. I shouldered him as well as his great length would enable me to do, and carried him back to where the boy was waiting for me. I found him no slight burden; be weighed above 27 lbs. ; the breadth between his wings 8 feet, and his length 5 feet. Of all the swans I ever killed he was by far the largest, the usual weight being from 15 to 8 lbs."

"No birds offer so striking and beautiful a