, 1877-03-16
White Of Solborno.
A PLEASANT SKETCH oF THE PArHEE or
ENGLISH NATURAL HISTORY.

ENGLISH NATURAL HISTORY.
Gilbert White. the father Of English
natural history. aud the most charming
writer upon the subject which the Ian
guage has produced. was born in l73O
and died in 1898. He was curatc not
vicar as has been said Of the Parish of
Selborne. in Hampshire. Here he lived
the life Of ascholar and country par
son. Selborne Was u some what seclud-
ell spot, little visited by the fashion and
fame Of the time. The naturalist and
poet had, therefore, all the more leisure
to observe the arrivals Of the birds, and
to note the peculiarities Of vegetable,
animal and even human life existing in
the little realm of Selborne. White was
a great naturalist, but it is chiefly ON
account of his delightful, almost un-
equalled gift OF description that he is
read now, and will, doubtless, always be
read. He will describe the cackling of
fowls in barnyard in such way that
chickens become most novel and won
derful creatures. In describing an idiot
boy he had known twenty years before,
who was fond of honey, and was q
skillful bee catcher, he seems to give
his gentle prose almost buzzing sound.
This boy in the winter dozed away his
time by The fireside in his fathers house.
but in the summer he was alert aad in
quest of his game in the fields aad on
sunny banks. White says: Honey
bees, bumble-bees and wasps were his
prey wherever he found thom; he had
no apprehensions from their stings, but
would seize them nudis nta1ai5us, and at
once disarm them of their weapons, and
suck their bodies for the sake of their
honey-bags. Sometimes he would fill
his bosom between his shirt and his
skin with number of these captives:
and sometimes he would confine them
in bottles. He was very Merops
dpiaSter, or bee-bird, and very injurious
to men that kept bees, for he would
slide into their bee-gardens, and sitting
down before the stools, would rap with
his fingers on the hives, and SO take the
bees as they came out. He has been
known to overturn hives for the sake of
honey, of which he was passionatelv
fond. When metheglin was making he
would linger round the tubs and vessels,
begging what he called draught of bee
wine. As he ran about he used to make
humming noise with his lips, resem-
bling the buzzing of bees. The lad was
lean and sallow and of q cadaverous
complexion, and except in his favorite
pursuit, in which he vas wonderfully
adroit, discovered no manner of under
standing" The literary excellence of
this is won4erful, yet White never ap-
peared to wish to be literary; in some
OF his happiest passages he seems to be
only transcribing fact in the plainest
and simplest language. He does not
dilute his pictures with thin reflections
which the reader should be allowed to
make for himself. Thus when he speaks
OF the coins of Marcus Aurelius and the
Empress Faustina. found at the bottom
OF Wolmer pond, where they had been
left by the Romans, and which, finally
came into circulation at Selborne, he
says: "The owners at first held their
commodity at high price, but finding
that they were not likely to meet with
dealers at such rate, they soon lowered
their terms and sold the fairest as they
could. The coins that were rejected be-
came current and passed for farthings at
the petty shops" A modern essayist
NOu4u AOS nave AOSb IuO CuhuC6 10 point
the humorous and poetical suggestions
of the incident. But White, being full
of such facts, passes on to the next.
Gilbert White took lifetime to make
his "Selborne." He has given to it the
calmness, the benevolence, the content
of his long life. 1t shows him as o man
of books, as well as Of the fields. He
was of gentle, yet Independent mind,
giving to other subjects the same clear
ness of vision with which he looked
upon the external world. His quiet,
orderly and delicate nature is impressed
upon every page of his work. He per-
forms his parish duties. He talks with
the farmers and villagers about the bird
and plant life which he is studying. He
takes his walk. He rises in the morning
to look at his sun-dial, or 10 record the
fall of the rain. The book is full of the
spirit of a man whose main joy is in the
discovery of some long-concealed mys-
terry of the life of birds, whose most
poignant regret is to find that the honey
dew has defaced his honeysuckles.
Scribner's Monthly.