of a country-side. Ornithologists have, however, themselves to thank. With some honourable exceptions, I know no one so greedy as a true ornithologist. The botanist does not uproot every new flower which he discovers, but—for he loves them too well—carefully spares some plants to grow and increase; whilst few ornithologists rest content till they see the specimen safe in their cabinets. This, I suppose, must be, from the nature of the study, the case. Still, however, the love for Nature, and the enthusiasm which it gives, must be regarded as a far greater offset. And here let me, for the last time, say that I feel sure that nobody knows anything of the true charms of the country who is ignorant of natural history. With the slightest love and knowledge of it, then every leaf is full of meaning, every pebble a history, every torn branch, gilded with lichens, and silvered with mosses, has its wonders to tell; and you will find life in the dust, and beauty in the commonest weed.
