within this barrier, may consider themselves thoroughly concealed, and they were always free from disturbance during the period of breeding. A tower was further erected within the yew fence pierced with about sixty nesting berths, those near the top being set apart for the jackdaw and the white owl. The remainder were occupied by starlings, that were protected from cats and vermin by a stone flange, which encircled the lower part of the tower. Close by was also a peculiar trap for rats, whose cardinal virtue it was to destroy only what it was intended to destroy. It was especially intended for "Hanoverians."

On the panels of the front entrance to the hall are two knockers, designed by the late Captain Jones-an amiable man and excellent amateur artist-the rappers of which are cast in the similitude of human faces, one face representing Mirth, the other Misery. The former is immovably fixed to the door, so that when a stranger attempted to raise the knocker, the face seemed to grin at the useless efforts made; whilst the other, which is loose, when had recourse to, appeared to scowl as if from misery at the blows inflicted. Within and above this door is a strangely conceived representation of the nightmare a horrid incubus, said to be the production of the same amateur artist, or of he and Mr. Waterton together.

The cast-iron bridge by which the hall is now reached was erected by Mr. Waterton, is about thirty yards in length, and forms an ornamental object in the scenery. About a hundred yards from it stands a Lombardy poplar, which has been twice struck with lightning. On one of these occasions, the squire, observing that seven fishermen had taken shelter under the tree, directed them at once to leave, and they had no sooner done so, than the tree was nearly rent in twain by a thunderbolt. The squire nursed this tree, which had been planted by his father, with reverential care, and restored it wonderfully. To account for the seven fishermen being there, it is necessary to understand that Mr. Waterton, in his considerate kindness for the poor, used to permit them to fish in the lake at the proper season, and even devoted to their use a circular and substantial hovel, in which they could eat a bit of bread or obtain shelter. This fisherman's hut is nearly encircled by a yew fence.

The stream that flows from the lake was the scene of Mr. Waterton's observations in natural history, especially into the habits of our little beaver the water-rat. It passes through some pleasure-grounds, where is a grotto, said to be one of the loveliest in England, and thence past bridges and fern banks to a trap reservoir, where is a substantial keeper's hovel. At a short distance from the fisherman's hut are two pheasantries, protected by clumps of yew-trees. Returning from the larger pheasantry towards the well-built and well-arranged stable department, the front of which is ornamented by two splendid vines yielding excellent fruit during a fine season, also close to a small oblong sheet of water filled with all sorts of fish, the visitor passes a singular lusus naturæ, a filbert-tree growing through the central aperture of a huge millstone, which it lifted with the progress of growth nearly a foot from the ground. This fortuitous occurrence, and the destructive position of the millstone, induced the waggish Waterton

to name the extraordinary combination "John Bull and the National Debt." On the way to the grotto another union is to be seen at variance with the laws of nature, a spruce fir and an elm, which had been annually twisted round each other by the squire, and had consequently twisted round each other and grown into one another to the detriment of both. Mr. Waterton always facetiously pointed this out as what he deemed the absurdity of the union of Church and State.

Passing along an avenue in the wood, where artificial nesting-boxes were prepared in hidden recesses for the brown and the barn owl, a point is arrived at where the road bifurcates, and where is an ancient Saxon stone cross, which was rescued by its owner from being the step to a humble house in Wakefield. In front is a magnificent clump of spruce firs, which constitute a favourite nesting retreat for the ringdove, the brown owl, the kestrel, the jackdaw, the magpie, and the jay, as well as for a host of smaller birds; and beyond is the grotto, a flower-garden excavation, hewn out of solid rock and embosomed in wood. In its base it is graced by a small temple, the roof of which is supported on stone pillars covered with ivy; in the centre is a table surrounded by benches, and on the summit a large circular temple. Pic-nic parties were allowed to assemble here, and when on such occasions Mr. Waterton appeared even at a distance, he was often greeted by the bands playing, and the whole assemblage joining in chorus, "The fine Old English Gentleman." A seat on the brink of the precipice which forms the posterior portion of the grotto, and looks down upon the stream below, was a favourite place with the naturalist. An artificially prepared trunk of an ash-tree close by was set apart for owls, and an ox-eye titmouse also nested in a decayed part of the trunk until driven out by a squirrel. A cross near the smaller temple was said by the squire to be the first that was erected and exposed to public view in England after the Reformation.

Water-hens were great pets with the squire, coming as they did during winter daily upon the lawn, in front of the mansion, to be fed by him from the windows. On the southern side of the lake, and in front of the drawing-room windows of the hall, was an extensive heronry, and an open swamp was preserved solely for the use of the herons. The squire could thus study the habits of the herons from the drawing-room windows to perfection. The heronry was nearly destroyed at one time from the destructive influence of some soap and vitriol works in the neighbourhood; and, although Mr. Waterton ultimately obtained an injunction to abate the nuisance, many of the spruce and silver firs never recovered from the deadly poison.

On the left of the bridge was the rookery, and in the distance is seen a considerable extent of grass land, with here and there detached oaks. The grass land gradually ascends from the lake, and is bounded by wood on both sides. The extreme boundary of the western portion of the lake is clothed with rushes, the favourite resort of the waterhens and coots. From the edge of the water the eye is delighted by an extensive tract of undulating pasture land, rising to a considerable elevation above the lake, and studded with a profusion of plain and ornamental forest trees, with the heronry and its neighbouring swamp

in the foreground. Few of the beautifully formed forest-trees within this domain, however lofty or difficult to climb, but have, at some period or other, been scaled by the squire in his bird-nesting propensities, and that remarkable suppleness of limb and elasticity of muscle, which once enabled him to ride an alligator, remained to him even to his eighty-first year. Such was also Mr. Waterton's cool courage, that, in making some comparative experiments on the effects of the rattlesnake poison and the woorali at Leeds, he, in the presence of a large company, grasped the venomous monsters by the neck with his naked hand, so as to enable them to bite the intended victims. Upon another occasion he entered a palisadoed enclosure in the Zoological Gardens in London, where was a large orang-outang, or "uranutan," reputed to be very savage, and the two became excellent friends.

Mr. Waterton, and, after him, his biographer, Dr. Hobson, fight the battle of the rooks, owls, and other birds valiantly. Instead of the former being a prejudice to the farmer and landowner, as is generally averred, it is argued that this useful bird never destroys a blade of grass. If it deprives the farmers of pence by stealing a few grains of wheat or a potato or two, it rewards them with pounds by the destruction of the wire-worm, and it preserves trees from the devouring caterpillars and coleopterous insects. "Where the wire-worm and caterpillar abound, there will be the rooks."

Protected as all birds were in the park at Walton Hall, the carrioncrow, which is rarely gregarious, became so there, and flocks of eighty and more used to congregate for months together. It seemed, indeed, as if all nature had been formed in this park to meet the wishes of its owner. There is an abundance of wood, underwood, water, and undulating ground, whilst the extent of the park is sufficiently large to allow of portions being devoted entirely to absolute seclusion, for those birds which are naturally disposed to avoid the haunts of men. The upper two-thirds of the lake were kept altogether free from any intrusion whatever for six months every year. Even visitors at the house were always warned off those portions thus set apart; and during the whole breeding-season the heronry district was strictly forbidden ground, unless an accident happened from a young heron falling from its nest, when aid would immediately be afforded.

The list of occasional visitors of the feathered tribe to the park, added to those which sojourned there, comprises no less than one hundred and nineteen different species. During the severe winter months, when the whole lake is one sheet of ice, it was often literally covered by a startling variety of water-fowl. This multitude of visitors consisted of cormorants, teal, tufted ducks, pochards, widgeons, the garganey, the smew, the shoveller, and now and then of the velvet and the common scoters, together with extraordinary numbers of the wild duck. The Egyptian and Canada geese were permanent residents in the grounds. All living nature, indeed, as if grateful for the squire's protection, appeared to have formed a positive attachment to this special locality.

Many anecdotes are related characteristic of the squire's peculiarities. Returning once from South America, he found the hall infested with rats. He immediately caught one, smeared it all over

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with tar, and then set it at liberty. Such is the antipathy of rats to the smell of tar, that they fled by wholesale during the night across the narrow portion of the lake, and the squire at daybreak found the whole house entirely free from his unwelcome visitors. Possibly carbolic acid might be used in a similar manner for driving away rats. A poacher, who had long been notorious for committing depredations on Mr. Waterton's manor, was one day cajoled by the squire on to a broad stone step on the outside of the Cromwell doors in the old ruin, and Waterton, adroitly closing the doors, left them between him and the water. The fellow threatened to drown himself, but he was kept in durance vile until he promised to mend his ways, and he is said never afterwards to have poached on the squire's manor. Mr. Waterton used at one time to strictly preserve his game, but he found the expense to be so great, and so many inconveniences to be entailed by the process, especially from encounters with poachers, that, like the late Dr. Lee, of Hartwell, he gave up the attempt. Whitty, the squire's favourite cat, was, however, the worst poacher on the premises, for it not only destroyed his game, but also his pets. A trick played off by the squire upon some officers who payed him a visit, and who are described as being alike ignorant and consequential, does not redound much to the credit of either party.

Mr. Waterton was exceedingly kind-hearted and hospitable, and he should have simply set his visitors right by giving them a little correct information. However foolish young or even old men may sometimes be, they are always open to the censure of being better informed.

The squire's bones, says his amiable biographer, had precious little rest during a long and an eventful life. "Waterton's Wanderings" alone display a labour which establishes the fact. Its earlier portion must have been both mentally and physically a very anxious and an extremely harassing and hazardous one. And if we take a calm and retrospective view of his middle life, and are open to conviction, we must admit that his series of " Essays" evince one of vast and diligent observation and laborious practical research up to a comparatively recent period. Indeed, even in his eightieth year, his mind was as active, as disposed for investigation, and as clear on the subject of natural history, as much alive in doing good to his fellow-creatures, and as anxious and as persevering as regards improving and ornamenting his estate, as most men's minds are at five-and-twenty. His physical capabilities are described as being extraordinary even at this advanced period of life. He would leap over a fence three and a half feet high, hop on one leg along a dangerous wall, and, in fact, perform calisthenic feats which kept poor Dr. Hobson in utmost terror lest he should kill himself.

Mr. Waterton was an admirable sculler, and delighted his friends by his graceful handling of the oars on his lake; he was also an adept in the management of a sailing-boat. His habits were ever scrupulously abstemious, and he knew no indulgence whatever, keeping the fasts, and preferring walking to riding. When in South America, he was in the habit of bleeding himself a practice most detrimental to health, for he was always chilly. He notoriously excelled in delicate manipulations, having fingers as nimble, as pliable, and as sensitive as

of

those of a well-bred lady. During his long life Mr. Waterton never partook of either wine, spirit, or malt liquor. In addition to simple water, a cup of excessively weak black tea was his favourite, indeed, his only beverage on all occasions, into which he put a large quantity sugar, but no cream. He ever most rigidly cultivated the "early to rest and early to rise" plan, retiring to rest soon after nine o'clock in the evening, and rising at half-past three o'clock in the morning, when he lighted his own fire, and forthwith set to work in some natural history pursuit. For more than thirty years, his only covering during the night, when resting on the hard boards, was a far-worn cloak, with a napless blanket if required, whilst his pillow was a slightly hollowed-out beechwood block, in which to place his cheek, but without any covering upon it. Yet such a man, who deprived himself of all indulgences, never hesitated to relieve with open hand and generous heart the sufferings of others, and his private charities scarcely knew a limit.

In politics, the squire was a staunch Conservative, although, to the deep regret of many of his sincere friends, he condemned the union of Church and State. But this is not surprising with his strong religious feelings, which attached him, as is well known, to the extreme party of his own faith-that of the Jesuits. Yet, by a strange spirit of contradiction only to be found in original-commonly called eccentric -characters, whilst he carried the discipline of the Church to which he belonged beyond an age that is absolutely required by its professors or exponents, he had himself buried in ground unconsecrated by any Church, just like a simple child of nature.

Mr. Waterton's personal apparel was of so peculiar a character, of such primitive style, and, occasionally, so far worn, and his hat and shoes, generally, in so dilapidated a condition, that he was, now and then, addressed by strangers as a person very much below his own grade in society. He usually rejoiced in a blunder of this kind, and was greatly delighted to carry on the misconception, in apparent earnestness, by cleverly personating the man of poverty. It is to be remarked that the squire's charities knew no political or religious creed; he always supplied the poor with food, and paid, when they were ill, for medical attendance and medicines; but experience taught him to be wary of giving money, which he sometimes did for a pair of shoes. To obviate that which was intended for one object being devoted to another, he latterly hit upon the plan of giving his knife to the shoeless, who took it to a tradesman in Wakefield, where he could obtain a pair of shoes, and leave the talisman. So strong, however, were his feelings on religious matters, that his chef-d'œuvre in taxidermy was a representation by reptiles and other uncouth creatures (Mr. Waterton never allowed one of God's creatures to be called "an ugly brute") of the chief persons who took an active part in the Church Reformation upwards of three hundred years ago. The squire's naturally inherent eccentricity of character, so universally known, his biographer remarks, from personal intercourse and from his various publications, coupled with the admittedly extreme views held by him in regard to his own Church, invariably allowed him, by sufferance, permission, or a sort of sanction, to say and to do many