The Press. — London, England, 1858-07-31 00:00:00

the birds ere so asseh more numerous in one pert of the kingdom than in the other ? It is not the want of food in the west Highlands; there is abundance of heath to raise and support three times the head of game, if the climate would only allow it. Protect as strictly as possible, and kill every rapacious bird and beast on the ground, there never could be half as many grouse reared in the west as in the north or centre Highlands ; and the reason is, the humid climate prevents it. . . „ When rented Sonachan moors (about 8,000 acres of as beautiful heather as ever man stepped upon), I engaged a g a me protector, who for many years had served two as experienced and persevering grouse shooters as any in the north. This man came to me shortly before the 12th of August. He was amazingly charmed with the look of his new hills, and could not be persuaded that there were com paratively few birds on them. After the first day's shoot ing his disgust was extreme. Standing on a commanding " knowe" at the close of our weary day, add sweeping his brawny arm in the direction of our well-travelled beat— " Weel, sir, if ye had sic fine feeding and breeding ground in the north, ony gentleman that could shoot and walk as ye've done the day wad kill his hundred and fifty brace, and no mistake." Hid the decrease of grouse commenced in the north and centre Highlands, and gradually found its way to the west, there might have been some show of reason for this theory— namely, that the sheep have eaten out the grouse. Unfor tunately for the theorists, the grouse scarcity was simul taneous all over the kingdom. Perhaps I may be fired at with my own weapons—viz., that as there Is less heather-burning in the west, from the wet springs, than in the other districts and, conse quently, less young tender heath for food, there must be less sustenance for either sheep or grouse I rather think, however, that I am safe 'from any twitting on that subject ! Excessive heather-b ;rning is another cause, as I think, fallaciously given, for the falling-off of grouse. Lessees of shootings are loud in their complaints of this necessary evil,—and with reason. Many of them paying high rents, and for short leases, their sport, during the whole term of their occupancy, may be quite ruined by reckless burning. Having rented shootings for twenty-three years in all parts of Scotland, and been a frequent sufferer, I have no bias in favour of the heather-burners. Any good sportsman, however, ought to be aware that, if a moor was left to its natural unburnt luxuriance, the birds would he very apt to leave it for ground that had been burned. I once took a very good moor in Perthshire for five years. On my first arrival, one of the sheep-fanners had just consumed a long stretch of fine blooming heather. I forgave him on promise of never burning again, except under my keeper's directions. For three season.* there were few birds on that part of my best, hut afterwards they gradually re• turned, and on the last " twelfth " of my lease I killed considerably more than the half of my day's bag on and about that very burnt spot. Grouse will never eat old heather if they can get young, rank heather being used by them chiefly for shelter. If heather-burning is advanta geoua to sheep, it is equally so to grouse. Heather should always be burned in small patches, under the eye of a person thoroughly acquainted with the habits of grouse. A moor treated in this judicious way will loose far fewer birds after a dry spring-burning; and when the heath sprouts again, they will be much more regularly distil. buted over the hills. As to the grouse disease, when they are got tip to the extent they were a few years since, an epidemic will be likely enough to thin them down, and may linger for years after. This, in a small way, often happens to hares, when they increase beyond a certain limit. The fishing about this part of the world seems better than the shooting, but the author's ac counts of it are rather vague and indefinite. In fact, the tastes of the naturalist are continually interfering with those of the sportsman ; and though this element perhaps improves the flavour of the work on the whole, yet in particu lar passages it sometimes produces disappoint ment. The essay at the end of this little work, on the natural history of the British islands, is per haps as entertaining as any part ; while the anecdotes of how he and his son stocked their museum cannot fail to awaken in many a reader's mind the most delightful recollections of his youth and boyhood. Here is an instance of enthusiasm in the pursuit of " peckers " I now come to a class of birds familiar visitants of every lawn anti garden, and yet, from their unobtrusive habits, as difficult to observe ar either the remote wader or the wild bird of prey. On a mummer's day we see on all sides numbers of little birds, somo on the ground, some perched on twigs, and come in the air, each amply sup plied with its own proper food. whether that consists of winged insects, grass seeds, or berries. in the bolls and stems of the trees, however, are lodged the chrysalises and lavas of many large and small insects, which nut only in jure the trees, but would he very ruxious and troublesome if allowed to take wing. These it is the work of the wood pecker to seek nit and devour. The peckers are divided into several kind+, all performing their allotted tasks. The greater spatted and green woodpecker are chiefly for the bolls and stems of trees. The form of t h eir feet being like the parrot, anti thrown very far back, only fits them for going up the tree, mid over the tope of the branches. Their plan is to begin at the foot, and work their way, spirally, to the top, searching every crevice. If the green woodpecker detect an unsound part, betray ing the grubs beneath, it immediately begins hammering until there is a opening wide enough for its long tongue, THE PRESS, JULY 31, 1858. armed with reverse bristles, which enable it to bring out its prey as if with a hook. The spotted pecker has a different mode of setting to work : it bores with its bill like an awl, and so distinct is its sound from that of the green, that any one accustomed to them zan distinguish it in a moment. We secured the spotted woodpecker last summer in Enston•park. My son, who hid been looking out for one for more than a week, was trolling for pike ; a fine eight or nine pounder had run twice at his spinning bait, and was ttrimly waiting behind a weed for the third cast, when the burr of the woodpecker sounded almost overhead. Down went the rod, and away he bolted for the keeper's gun. It was more than half an hour ere the bird bored twain. Bat at last it did, and by patient dodging he got a distant chance and dropped it. The green one he killed a few weeks before, tracking it by its loud laugh from tree to tree. Who does not recall the scene in a moment ? The deep, still, weedy pond or river. The park sloping down to its banks, dotted with fine old timber, and the distant covers peeping through the giant trunks. The keeper's cottage in a snug sheltered corner, and the breathless lad rushing in for the gun, and bringing home his booty in triumph. The above fancy picture may not resemble Euston-park in any one parti cular feature, though it also very well may. But it is a faithful enough sketch of many a quiet home scene in green England, which it is the especial privilege of the sportsman and naturalist to recall. We thank Mr. Colquhoun for giving us a very pleasant and refreshing little book, inducing us to cry out on this hot July day,— Quis me geli(lis in vallibns Hremi Sistat et ingenti rarnorum protegat umbri. MINOR POEMS. REVIEWERS are so often charged with being useless or mischievous to literature and to the public that they may well feel a peculiar satis faction in occasionally doing a stroke of work of which no one can question the utility. When they pass sentence upon the laborious works of eminent authors, it certainly becomes them to be cautious, and to see that they do not assume a higher position than they have any right to claim. In these cases, if a reviewer is not on his guard, he may certainly do harm instead of good to literature and the public taste. But unknown authors, at any rate, if they have merit, find their best friends in the reviewer. They lose no reputation by his unfavourable judgment, for they have none to lose; while, on the other hand, the approbation of the public press insures their success. Not less useful is the reviewer in these cases to the public; for the works of unknown authors have to show cause why they should be read, and it is in the reviewer's court that this question is decided. Reviewers are the guar dians of the time of the reading public. They are placed at the gates to exclude summarily all frivolous and importunate authors. In short, the proper defence of the art against the clamorous upbraiding of " the irritable race" is this, — when the Board of Reviewers give judgment upon the degree of an author's merit, their sen tence may often deserve to be reversed, but when it is confined to the question whether or no he has merit, it is seldom wrong. Peculiarly necessary is it that there should be a commission of this sort to examine and report upon the works of new poets. No one but a re viewer can read bad poetry, and as of the new poetry which issues from the press a very large proportion is bad, if there were no reviewers the public would be reduced to the necessity of neg lecting good and had alike. The bad poet must not be encouraged on any account, and the poet is not absolutely necessary t o our werare l . Poled duci rrena sine ilk For this service of ejecting bad poets with all despatch and of re scuing good ones from neglect—still more of en couraging those who are not good but promise to become so—the reviewer deserves, it must be al lowed on all hands, the thanks of the community. In the discharge of this office it is our painful duty to pronounce sentence of oblivion against "Palestine Revisited, and Other Poems," by J. Mitchell, M.A. (Webster). We hope the author may have more talent for prose. He intorms us in his preface that he wishes to press upon the public in these poems certain truths which he considers to be " greatly lost sight of." If so, he should cast about for some better way of "press ing" them. Truth had much better be at the bottom of a well than at the bottom of these verses. We solemnly declare that we have read them, and that we have not discovered the truths. As Count de Gram mont said, they the be there incognito. B ut enough ; l e t us eti d ea. your to forget the pa inful subject, and for t h e poems, let them at once be blest In Shadwell's bosom with eternal rest. "Chiming Trifles, by an Oxoni an " (Rent), is less ambitious, and, if not of any great intrinsi c merit, deserves to escape condemnation. I t is dedicated to the friends of the author's under• graduate days, and if it revives his image in their minds we doubt not that one great purpose of its publication will be answered. We s h ou l d imagine that they will remember their college friend with pleasure, for we judge him from his verses to be genial, merry, and kindhearted, liis gay pieces are not very witty, but the mirth springs up naturally ; his grave pieces are rather dull, but they are quite unaffected. Any one who may wish to recall his days of undergradu a t e . ship, his half-forgotten horror of proctors and deans, his contempt for freshmen, and for men who read too much, cannot do better than turn over these pages. Old Shylock transformed into a miserable hunted undergraduate turning des. perately upon his pursuers is amusing : Well then, it now appears, on want my cash. Go to then : you send for me, and you say " Young man, we would have monies ": you say so; You that did proctorize me in the High— Shall I bend low, and in a Freshman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this— " Fair sir, you pulled me up on Wednesday last : You wigged me such a day; another time You gated me; and for these courtesies I pay you thus much monies." We next come to " Sonnets, by the Rev John Eagles" (Blackwoods). Mr. Eagles wrote for many years in Blackwood's Magazine. The best of his contributions in prose were collected into a single volume and published about a year ago. The same author now comes before us as a sonneteer. The editor of this volume has quoted in the preface Mr. Eagle's opinions upon the sonnet. The passage appears to show that its author had given special attention to this style of composition, and that he piqued himself upon understanding the trick of it. lle enlarges upon the unity and completeness which ought to characterize the sonnet ; he judges that if it be possible to add a line or a word, the sonnet is no sonnet. This is all very true, but we think that there is another truth which Mr. Eagles has not sufficiently con sidered. Bacon says that the aphorism is the most effectual test of the philosopher. An ordinary philosopher may write an essay or a treatise ; to produce a single memorable sentence is less easy. So in Greece Nestor's eloquence might flow like honey, and the words of Ulysses fall like snowflakes, but no words were wasted in the oracles of the gods. In poetry the same rule obtains. Brevity is the last and most difficult achievement. It is very well to say that the son net should contain but a single thought, but can Mr. Eagles supply thoughts of weight sufficient singly to support a whole poem ? The half digested conceits that might present themselves to a mind which certainly neither nature nor educa tion had furnished with clear or large conceptions —the thin and unsubstantial fancies out of which a second-rate article in Blackwood might be made, , dressed in elaborate Miltonic periods instead of their appropriate slip-shod prose, however care fully fourteen lines, neither more nor less, may be meted out to each—do not after all constitute good sonnets. Let the work be as good as po , - sable, the poverty of the stuff cannot be concealed. Let them be ingenious, neat ; let them, in s hort, have a thousand - merits, nevertheless they have one incurable defect—they are trivial. This t tout ce qu'il veut, mail malheureusement it n'a rten a dire. Sonnets have been at a discount since the death of Wordsworth, who produced severa l masterpieces in this kind, though in the multitude which he composed it must be confessed that the good ones form a minority. Of late years the best which have been written, in our opinion, are the eight which Mr. Matthew Arnold published we believe, in 1849. This writer, in all whose thoughts there is a certain solidity and ua ul du 11 rn ° style a certain na t ura l di gn ity, na turalis q auctorstas, writes sonnets which, without any mark of imitati on , h ave ma ny points of suiu-