some wild ducks would fly over his place of concealment, is seen breaking through the glassy crust at every step, as he seeks one of the abovementioned' blow wells,' determined to go to the ducks as they will not come to him. His servant, a grave, long-headed North-countryman, follows his master, not half-liking the errand on which they are bound. 'It's a stra-ange thing,' he murmurs, that Measter can't be quiet these here wintry nights.' At length Master approaches the black circle of water, ever unfrozen in the severest weather, with its fringe of dark poplars, and holding up his hand to impress caution on his henchman, advances in a crouching position. There is a splash and a flutter, and he gets a right and left at three fine mallards. Two are brought down winged, and with loud quackings, at once commence flapping over the snow to regain their element. The sportsman pursues one to the other side of the miniature lake; while the luckless John, sinking to his knees at every step in the snow, at length plunges up to his middle in the ditch, that carries off the overflow of the lakelet, and is unable to extricate himself, owing to the depth of snow on the banks. His master comes to his aid, and then the pair strike across a meadow to the Beck, where the moonlight lies on its strongly-defined edges, in that peculiar creamy hue it so often assumes in winter. Here another mallard, or perhaps (owing to the severe season) a goosander is put up and bagged. Mr. Cordeaux mentions shooting one of these latter birds at such a place, which disgorged two trout, evidently only just swallowed, one measuring seven, the other about five inches in length. After so much exposure to inclement frosty weather, both master and man are not sorry to find themselves at home. Healthy as the north-east corner of Lincolnshire is, a man must possess sound lungs and a good constitution if he is to enjoy

its iron climate during five months at least of the twelve.

Having thus described the character of the Humber province, it is worth noting that its historian has traced the existence of no less than 276 species of birds in it. In his recent Handbook of British Birds Mr. Harting enumerates 395 species of birds as inhabitants of Great Britain, so that the proportion taken within the Humber district is very large. It may be much reduced, however, by eliminating those birds of which only one or two examples have ever been taken in it. Thus, the jacamar (Galbula ruficauda), a native of Central America, has once been shot near Gainsborough. It had probably escaped from an aviary. Again, the Caspian Tern (Sterna Caspia) has once been shot on the coast of Lincolnshire, but beyond the limits of Mr. Cordeaux's province. The Roseate Tern, the Ferruginous Duck, the Fire-crested Regulus and others, on Mr. Cordeaux's own confession, have never occurred in his province, though they are included in his lists. Probably, 240 species would be a fair estimate of the ordinary winged inhabitants of the Humber District. Except in Devon and Cornwall it would not be easy to parallel this number of birds in any other English province. And if the Great Bustard and the Kite have now died out in Lincolnshire, it is some comfort to its bird-lovers to be informed that the numbers of the Nightingale which visit it in spring are largely increasing. We shall not readily forget listening, a few years ago, to the first which came into our neighbourhood, in the thickets surrounding an old quarry, until long after midnight; and then, on reaching home, three-quarters of a mile away as the crow flies, throwing open the window, and distinctly hearing the sweet songster still rehearsing her sadly-thrilling tale of woe.

The great value of the Birds of the Humber appears to us to arise

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from the careful observations upon the migratory birds of the district which it contains. The author has devoted himself in earnest to the problems of his science. He points out that, with the exception of the wagtail, all the migratory birds which visit this district in autumn and winter, arrive from the sea in lines of flight varying from north to east. The wagtail comes from the west or north-west. The spring migratory birds also appear to come from the sea, but in the direction of south-east to east. The shore birds and waders commonly follow the coast line, both in their vernal and autumnal migrations; while the sea-birds, pursuing the same course, travel much farther out to sea. Another curious point, which Mr. Cordeaux pretty well establishes, is the number of common birds which join our native ones by immigration in October. Mr. Stevenson had noticed this fact before in his Birds of Norfolk, with respect to the robin, many of which arrive in the autumn to swell the number of British-born birds. The abundance of one species, golden-crested wrens, for instance, one day, where but few could be found for some time before, coupled with the bodies of these fragile little creatures being often picked up during October, around the lanterns of Spurn and Flam- borough lighthouses, serves to show how well-established is this theory of migration. Ornithologists accept it now as a law with as much readiness as they believe in the migration of the woodcock. Mr. Cordeaux has enjoyed rare facilities (to turn to another part of the subject) for observing the relative decrease or increase of many species, e.g. wagtails, goldfinches, &c., with the style of farming. High farming cuts down all coverts and hedges, and banishes some kinds of small birds. Again, it destroys thistles, and goldfinches find much of their suste

nance in thistle seeds. Allowing

VOL. VIII.-NO. XLV. NEW SERIES.

rambling hedgerows, on the other hand, with plenty of shade and room for quiet nesting, leads to a wonderful increase of birds of many different kinds.

Amongst the lighter portion of Mr. Cordeaux's book is a curious computation of the space passed over in a single summer's day by the swift, which, it may be remembered, was White of Selborne's favourite bird. They are seen on the wing as early as four o'clock in the morning, and continue so at the least until nine in the evening, seventeen hours of probably uninterrupted movement. If the swift's flight be calculated at the average rate of eighty miles per hour, this gives the amazing distance of 1,360 miles in a single day. Turning to the birds which more than any others are popularly identified with Lincolnshire, the ruff and reeve, the life history of this species, it appears, required writing afresh. Formerly so abundant that its capture and feeding for the London market was a regular trade, it is now only known as a bird of passage, lingering for a few weeks or even days in the neighbourhood of its old haunts during the period of its spring and autumn migrations. Though it used at the beginning of this century to breed in the fens round Boston and Spalding, nests are now never found in the Humber district. Like so many other birds, drainage and the steam plough have driven them from their old domains. It is the familiar story of the Red Indians fading away before the spread of civilisation. Another and more common bird of the district is the Short-eared Owl (Otus brachyotus), which is a winter migrant, arriving on the coast during October and November. Like the common barn owl, it flies well by day, and is fond of haunting short dry stubble, long grass and reeds on drain banks, &c., whence it sallies out to prey on mice. It is an interesting animal

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to keep in confinement, and is often flushed by the partridge shooter. The woodcock is another well-known autumnal migrant, arriving on the seaboard of the Humber District about the second week in October. On these birds landing they are very fat and in good condition, but much exhausted with the passage from the Continent. They usually drop on the first cliff which affords the least shelter, and remain for the day like stones, in some cases so tired that they will suffer themselves to be taken up by the hand. The gunners and long-shore men' are on the look-out for their arrival, and considerably thin their numbers their numbers before they reach the inland plantations. Hence the scandalous story told of a certain parson on the coast of Holderness, in whose ear the clerk whispered, just as service had commenced, that the cocks' had landed. 'My friends,' he gave notice at once, there will be no sermon this morning; an imperative call requiring my presence else where.' Doubtless he was distantly connected with that equally celebrated Cornish pastor to whom tidings of a wreck were brought as he too was engaged reading the service. Tucking his gown well round him, he is said to have descended from the desk, and to have observed, as he hastened to the door, 'Now, my brethren, let no leave his seat for a moment; we must all start fair!' whereupon he opened the door, and rushed at the top of his speed to the cove before the congregation had well recovered from their surprise.

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Mr. Cordeaux's account of the Godwit (Limosa rufa) at its meal by the seaside is worth transcribing as a specimen of an intelligent naturalist's observing powers. 'With the aid of my telescope,' he says, 'I have frequently watched their manner of feeding. They advance rather quickly over the flats, and at the same time keep rapidly thrusting their long bills into the ooze,

as if feeling for some concealed creature. It is easy to see when they are successful, as instantly every motion displays extreme energy, the bird's head itself being half buried in its eagerness to grasp and hold its wriggling prey. Often when the bill is withdrawn, I have seen a huge lob-worm, held crossways, dangling from it. This requires some little manipulation before it can be swallowed; the godwit's head is thrown backwards, and the mandibles are rapidly worked till the worm becomes properly adjusted, when down it goes, the neck perceptibly swelling and thickening in the descent; then there is a satisfied smack of the mandibles, and the search recommences.' Tourists must often have wondered how the nestlings of the guillemot are conveyed from the lofty ledges at Speeton cliffs and elsewhere, when they are hatched. The Flamborough fishermen told the author that when they are fishing under these cliffs on summer evenings they have often seen the parent birds carrying the little ones down on their backs to the waves below. That noble bird the Kite (Milvus ictinus) may still be seen in favoured localities in South Wales, but, if not at present, before many years have elapsed it will certainly be exterminated in England. The last Lincolnshire specimen was shot near Lincoln some twelve years ago. The Great Bustard (Otis tarda) has been extinct in Lincolnshire since the beginning of the century. In Yorkshire it lingered till about 1815, and a dead specimen was found floating in Bridlington Bay in November 1864. A careful record is preserved by Mr. Cordeaux of those specimens of Pallas's Sand Grouse (Syrrhaptes paradoxus) which were shot in his district during their curious appearance from the Tartar steppes, in May 1863. Indeed the above are merely samples of the diligence and care with which this History is

compiled. Naturalists who settle in Lincolnshire, however they may justly complain of the absence of a county History, will be thankful for years to come for this contribution to the ornithological monographs of Great Britain.

We had intended to quote the curious relation given by Mr. Cordeaux of his discovering the little red-necked Phalarope (Phalaropus hyperboreus) in a drain,' near the Humber, and its aquatic movements, while he was engaged in shooting plover. We must, however, refer readers to this, and to much more notable bird-lore, in the book itself. Let no one suppose, however, that it is merely a manual of anecdotic ornithology. It is really another proof with what ardour ornithology is now pursued as a science. Besides the many questions of migration, and abundance or extinction of particular species, with which modern ornithologists busy themselves, they aim. at establishing exact laws respecting the plumage of birds. Ordinary observers have little or no idea what modifications of plumage exist in the same species, not only in the male and female, but in the same bird at different seasons of the year. Most persons, indeed, are aware that the ruff and reeve are totally dissimilar in plumage; and probably their ornithological knowledge extends far enough to inform them of the fact, that hardly two individuals of a flock of ruffs possess the same tint of feathers. But it is not every one who would recognise the henharrier and ringtail as being respectively but male and female of the same species. And when we look to the diversities of plumage in such birds as the golden plover, or the whole gull family, at different times of the year, and for the early years of their existence, few indeed are the ornithologists who could pronounce authoritatively on these

changes. It is on such points that the ornithologist of the present and future must occupy himself. His science has passed the anecdotal stage, so to speak, and its votaries have now to investigate those deeper laws which underlie all sciences, and which demand the closest union of observing faculties, and a philosophic disposition. Herein it is a great comfort to all who rejoice in the sight of rare birds, to find an ornithologist of Mr. Cordeaux's experience making so much use of the glass in preference to the gun. Of course a bird must now and then be shot in the interests of science, but words can hardly do justice to the indignant scorn with which every true lover of the country sees any bird which is in the least degree out of the common, ruthlessly murdered, in order that its stuffed (and most often its caricatured) form may grace the hall and feed the miserable vanity of its captor. How completely shooting down the more conspicuous varieties of birds alters the face of a district may be seen in the desert zone around the suburbs of our larger cities, where bird-catchers and mechanics, armed with rusty fowling-pieces, are perpetually depopulating the groves and hedges. All who have ever reflected how much the charms of a country life are indebted to the song and the presence of birds, must wish Mr. Auberon Herbert success in his attempt, by legislating on the preservation of small birds, to stop these senseless practices. Ornithology is one of the purest, as well as the most absorbing, of rural recreations. Each of us, in his own small way, is more or less of a bird observer whenever he can escape into the fields; so that little short of national gratitude will be his who can stop the destruction of winged creatures, which lend so much grace and animation to rustic scenes. M. G. WATKINS.