Part 9

_26th._--I still find a great deal of amusement in watching my little family of swallows. They are unwearied in collecting food for their young; skimming through the air from morning till night, and darting on their prey with the most sudden turns. They catch gnats and flies, and consume an astonishing number of mischievous grubs; and I am told they often accompany people on horseback, through the fields, in order to pick up the flies which are roused from the turf by the horses’ feet.

They never touch seeds; insects are their only object, and according to the weather, or the degree of warmth, they sometimes skim along the surface of the ground, and sometimes fly at a great height. When there is a scarcity of insects they have been known to snatch the flies imprisoned in a spider’s web, and sometimes even the spider itself.

Another species arrived soon after the chimney swallow, which I believe I have already described to you. It is called the house martin, or window swallow; but there is no end to the number of names given to this bird. It is very like the chimney swallow, but it has no spots on the tail, and its feet are differently formed, for it has the power of turning the hind toe forwards, in order to cling to a wall. This species are chilly little creatures; when there is a cold wind or rain, they press close to one another, and are sometimes so benumbed as to be caught by the hand.

It is said that after they arrive here in April, they play about for nearly a month before they begin their nests. Sometimes they build in the cliffs and rocks that hang over water; sometimes against a perpendicular wall, without having any support underneath the nest; and they show great sagacity in their mode of carrying on their work. While laying the foundations, they not only hold on by their claws, but they fix their tail against some little projecting roughness in the wall to serve as a kind of prop; and then with their bill they carefully cram mud and bits of straw into the smallest chinks in the face of the brick or stone; and to give those materials time to harden preparatory to a fresh layer, the prudent little mason only labours early in the morning, so that his work dries sufficiently in the course of the day. I have got up several times at day-break to see how neatly he uses his bill as a little trowel, while he carries the mortar or clay in one of his feet. About half an inch is laid every morning; and in ten or twelve days, a hemispherical nest is thus formed with an aperture at the top. The shell or crust is covered with rough knobs of earth; the middle is strengthened by the intermixture of straw; and the inside is nicely lined with grass and feathers; or sometimes with moss and wool. If by any accident the nest should be destroyed, it is rebuilt in a short time by the active help of many individuals who unite to assist their distressed companion. For several mornings they persisted in rebuilding a nest at the passage-room window, which had been purposely torn down each day; but, at last, after a hard struggle they gave it up.

I understand that the _cliff_ swallows of America--who place their nests close up to the jutting ledge of a rock, or to the eave of a house--most ingeniously arch the top, and make the entrance project out and turn downwards. Frederick, who mentioned that circumstance at dinner, very philosophically remarked that, while the population of Europe was steadily extending itself from the eastern shores of America to the western side of the Mississippi, those cliff-swallows were as resolutely advancing in a contrary direction. “It appears,” said he, “from C. Buonaparte’s ‘Ornithology,’ that in ten years they had gradually established themselves in Kentucky and Ohio; in 1817 a single bird was seen skimming round a tavern, near Lake Champlain--the next year, seven were observed there--the third year, twenty-eight--and in 1822, no less than seventy had arrived in April, which is the usual time of return from their migratory travels.”

The common sparrow sometimes seizes on a swallow’s nest, before it is completed; and having driven away its owner, adapts it to his own use; but such invasions are often repelled after a spirited contest. This act of piracy has been frequently seen; but my aunt is inclined to doubt the truth of another story, though related by Linnæus, of a sparrow who took possession of a martin’s nest, and obstinately resisted the united efforts of a group of these birds which had come to the aid of the owner; but, at length, they immured the intruder by building up the entrance with the same kind of mortar of which the nest was composed.

I can see the little swallows sitting all day with their heads out of the nest near my window, gaping for their parent, who comes frequently to them with food, and clings to the edge while they gobble it up; and I understand, that after they begin to fly they are fed by their parents on the wing. I have watched for this, but could not perceive it, they are so quick in every movement. As soon as the first family are able to provide for themselves they quit their home, and while they are sporting about, and clustering and hovering round every building in the neighbourhood, the mother repairs the nest for a second brood.

_27th._--The spring is now rapidly changing to summer, and the opening buds and unfolding leaves have been succeeded by a profusion of young branches, and flowers. It is, indeed, very different from the rich luxuriant spring of your Brazilian climate, but on the other hand, we have not here the perpetual rain, and the oppressive closeness of that season. The freshness of the air, the fragrance of the flowers, and the sweet song of the birds are all delightful; and every day I see some new and pretty insects. Though these insects are not quite in such numbers as, Humboldt says, appeared by turns, each at their different hours, on the Amazon river, still one may say--

Ten thousand insects in the air abound, Flitting on glancing wings that yield a summer sound.

Just as we were looking at an uncommon butterfly to-day, Mr. Maude paid us a visit, and seeing how we were occupied, he told us that when travelling in Switzerland last June, he witnessed a very curious circumstance, in the Canton de Vaud; an emigration of butterflies. He happened to perceive something flying past the windows, and on looking out he discovered an immense flight of butterflies crossing the garden. He immediately went out, and found that they belonged to the species called, in French, La belle Dame; they were all going in the same direction, exactly from South to North, turning neither to the right nor left; people moving about the garden did not frighten them; nor were they even tempted by the numerous flowers there to alight. Their flight was low and steady, but extremely swift; and it continued in a column of several feet broad for more than two hours. As Mr. M. afterwards learned that these butterflies had been remarkably abundant near Turin, in April and May, he supposes that they had emigrated from Italy; but, he says, naturalists have been greatly puzzled to account for their having done so in a body, because they do not belong to those species that live in societies.

He mentioned another singular circumstance: when he was on Mount Etna, he saw, to his great astonishment, an immense number of insects hovering over the dry lava of one of the old craters; there was no appearance of vegetation, or of any thing that could supply them with food; but there they were in a thick mass, flitting about in the sulphurous vapour, which still rose from the crevices. The insect was a species of bug, or _cimex_.

Frederick took me this evening to a sunny sand-bank, to shew me a great novelty, which he had discovered there; the nest of the _mason wasp_. It is not common in England, and has never been found in this part of the country before. The nest is a round cavity, from two to three inches deep; which the insect bores through a hard sandy soil; and instead of throwing away the sand, as it is dug out, the little mason, by means of a glutinous fluid, forms it into oblong pellets, and arranges them round the entrance of the hole, so as to form a sort of cylindrical tunnel; which sometimes, Frederick says, is about two inches long. These little pellets are so nicely attached to each other, with regular spaces at the corners, that they have quite the appearance of filligree work. It is said that the use of the tunnel is to prevent the incursions of ichneumons, and other artful insects, who are always on the watch to intrude their own young, and who are perhaps deterred by the artificial look of this entrance. One egg only is placed in the nest; and along with it are stored, as food for the future young, several fat grubs. But these are always full grown, because, as they are just about to pass into the pupa state, they require no food for themselves.

Frederick opened the nest; and we examined it without fear, because the mason wasp having deposited its egg, and supplied it with food, does not remain to guard it. We found twelve grubs closely packed; each of them being coiled above the other in a succession of rings, and the earth so pressed on them as to prevent their movements from injuring the egg. The remainder of the hole was filled up with some of the pellets that I have already mentioned.

_28th, Sunday._--This morning my uncle proceeded to explain the Levitical dispensation. He began by reminding us of the gross corruptions, which had again crept into the Patriarchal dispensation, notwithstanding the awful warning of the flood.

“But,” said he, “even in those corruptions the main principle of that dispensation was preserved; that principle which marked the fallen state of man, and to which every hope of future pardon was necessarily attached. Instead of rejecting that doctrine of the atonement and the hope of the promised Deliverer, the apostates of that age made those points the very basis of their heresy. Their creed was built upon the necessity of expiatory sacrifices; and, though they impiously divided and multiplied their hero-gods at pleasure, still each remotely signified the predicted seed of the woman supposed to be corporeally manifested in this, or in that illustrious human character. The Almighty, however, had declared that there should not ‘any more be a flood to destroy the earth.’ In his merciful councils other means were adopted for counteracting the evil, and for reclaiming mankind from a depraved polytheism, in which the true belief would be altogether lost; and with it the only means of ultimate reconciliation. The Patriarchal dispensation was no longer suited to this altered state of the world, nor sufficient for this gracious purpose; it was, therefore, to be superseded by a new and intermediate dispensation, which should strongly inculcate the doctrine of the Divine Unity, and perpetuate and confirm with unceasing light, from time to time, the true original doctrine of redemption. Such was the object of the _Levitical_ dispensation.

“The dispersion of the people at Babel had spread the corruptions of which they had been guilty, over the face of the earth; and it pleased God to separate from them one family who were to be the depositaries of that peculiar principle which was to give efficacy to all religious duties. For this purpose Abraham was selected from amongst the idolaters of Babylonia, to be the father of a nation to which the new dispensation was to be committed. They were to preserve the true principles of religion for the rest of the world; and from them that Messiah was to proceed whom they never ceased to desire, though they so strangely misconceived his real character, and debased the sublime object of his mission.

“The Patriarchal religion had been originally conferred on all mankind; its principle was universality: but that being now changed, and a single people being chosen out of the corrupt mass, in order to preserve the truth, we may say that the chief distinction between the two dispensations was, that the first was _universal_, the second _particular_.

“The law as delivered by Moses, and called the Levitical dispensation, because its ordinances were confided to the tribe of Levi, was not sent to do away the original religion, nor was it intended to supply new motives, or new sanctions. The law did not reveal the doctrines of the Divine Unity; or of redemption through a promised Deliverer; or of a state of future reward and punishment--for they had been already established; but to those great doctrines the law ‘was added, because of transgressions[8].’ It was _added_, in part to preserve the knowledge of the Divine Unity in the midst of surrounding superstitions; in part to preserve the doctrine of redemption amidst the idolatrous Gentiles; and also, by imposing on the Israelites numerous observances and restrictions, to preserve them separately from the world, a peculiar people; as Balaam said, ‘Lo, the people shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations.’

“But as the time drew near when the sun of righteousness was to rise, the characteristic of particularity began to be withdrawn from the Levitical church. The light of the gospel was preceded by a faint knowledge of the truth which began to spread into other parts of the world. The Babylonish captivity left some traces of it in the East; the emigration of numerous Jews into Egypt carried it there likewise; and the translation of the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek opened the eyes of many pagans, so that several proselytes to the worship of Jehovah were received into the Levitical church.

“Such were the preparatory steps to the abolition of paganism, and to the introduction of the last, and most important, of the three dispensations; that which was to do away with all other codes and rituals--which was to put an end to all emblematic sacrifices--and which was to collect into one fold, under one shepherd, all the nations of the earth.”

_29th._--This evening I was talking away at a great rate to Caroline--probably a great deal of nonsense--and having frequently used the expressions, I conceive, I imagine, my uncle at last asked me if I could explain the distinction between those two words.

I considered for a little while, and then said, that though I had been using them very negligently, yet I thought I could point out the principal difference.--_Conception_ is the calling up an absent but distinct idea of something we have already perceived or felt--a complete picture in the mind of some former sensation. But by _imagination_ we take a bit of one of these pictures and a bit of another--we select different circumstances from a variety of things that we have seen--and by combining them together according to some particular view, we form a new creation, and obtain the idea of something that we have not seen.

“Very well, my little Bertha,” said my uncle smiling, “I like to see you exert your mind: but I would alter one part of your definition--I would not confine the imagination to objects of sight only; for though the mind dwells with greater facility on those that have been supplied by that sense, yet it is equally certain that our other perceptive faculties contribute their share also. The least imaginative person must recollect the many pleasing images which have been excited by the fragrance of distant fields, and the melody of unseen birds; and if you will accustom yourself to examine the process of your own imagination, you will find that an ample proportion of the subjects which pass through it are derived from all your senses.”

“But, uncle, do you think that I have such a metaphysical head as to be able to discover what is going on in my imagination? A thought comes, and though it is easy to perceive the immediate circumstance that suggested it, I am sure my giddy mind could not trace it further back than the first step.”

“Whatever be the character of your mind,” he replied, “and whether you choose to observe them or not, those complex operations are habitually going on there; imagination rapidly selects from the materials presented to it by memory, and by its own creative power forms new trains of thoughts to pursue. The fine arts furnish innumerable instances of this process.--But imagination is not a simple effort of the mind:--tell me then, Bertha, if you can, what other intellectual faculties are engaged with it, besides conception, which you have rightly said, only exhibits the simple objects of our former perceptions, and from which we are to make a fresh selection?”

“I believe, uncle, there is first that power which enables us to separate from our conceptions those circumstances which are not wanted for our purpose--the name is----”

“_Abstraction._ It is one of the most important of our faculties, and is not less necessary to our general conduct in life, than for the most refined intellectual pursuits. It helps us to remove the glare which often dazzles and deceives our moral perceptions; it reduces our complicated ideas to their constituent parts; and it presents us with the means of considering certain qualities of an object apart from the rest; and, therefore, of classing them with others: in short, it is equally subservient to the power of reasoning and to that of imagination. But go on, my dear--what next?”

There was something so encouraging in my uncle’s manner of questioning me, that instead of frightening, it helped me to think. “Perhaps it is that which guides us in putting together the materials which we have been selecting;--or rather of arranging and suiting them to each other;--taste, I think.”

“Right, Bertha; _taste_ adapts and redisposes them in the best manner; and the more or less successfully as the _judgment_ is more or less consulted. Without taste and judgment, the imagination would jumble them all together at random, and would produce nothing but confusion and deformity. Paintings and poems may contain many beauties, and yet may totally fail in giving satisfaction; simply from the parts being ill-assorted--or, in other words, from a deficiency of judgment in their combination.”

“But is there not another quality which is essential in a poet?--I mean, uncle, the power of catching the resemblance of ideas;--that which produces those beautiful allusions that form the ornament of poetry.”

“You mean _fancy_--the power of quickly perceiving those delicate links, which connect the most remote objects; and which, however slight, are sufficient for poetical analogies. The more sober analogies, which suit the province of science, may be elicited by laborious reflection, or plodding perseverance; but fancy flashes them across the mind of the true poet, and, by a sort of inspiration, furnishes him with an exuberance of materials. But here again, Bertha, he must have recourse to taste and judgment, if he would make an agreeable impression on the minds of others. The ornaments of poetry, you say, are the allusions; but in order to please, the points of similitude must, on the one hand, be so obvious as to excite the immediate sympathy of the reader; and yet, on the other, they must be so disconnected as to display ingenuity by their comparison or contrast, and to surprise with their novelty.

---- Hope and fear, alternate, sway’d his breast, Like light and shade upon a waving field Coursing each other, when the flying clouds Now hide, and now reveal, the sun.

“I think the conditions I laid down are both completely satisfied in these beautiful lines from one of Home’s tragedies. But if poetical allusions were merely employed for ornament, they would cloy the taste and encumber the sense--they must therefore help to illustrate and give force to those ideas that would otherwise be obscure, or which would be too rapidly passed over by the reader. For this reason they are generally taken from material objects with which our senses are most conversant, and are applied by the fancy to those parts of intellectual or moral subjects which require illustration, and on which the mind is invited to pause.”

Caroline concluded the conversation by repeating Warton’s lines on Fancy.

Waving in thy snowy hand An all-commanding magic wand, Of power to bid fresh gardens grow ’Mid cheerless Lapland’s barren snow; Whose rapid wings thy flight convey Through air, and over earth and sea, While the various landscape lies Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes.

_30th._--It is curious, that it has never been ascertained what becomes of swallows when they disappear in autumn. Some naturalists have supposed that they retire to hollow trees, old buildings, or caves, where they remain in a torpid state during the winter; while others affirm that they lie at the bottom of lakes and ponds. This last, my uncle says, is a most extravagant idea, for nothing can be more certain than that they would decay there in a short time; besides it is well known that they moult or change their feathers early in the year, and no one can imagine that this can be accomplished while they are torpid and under water.

Facts, however, have not been wanting, to support both these opinions; numbers certainly have been found in old dry walls, and cliffs, and several were taken out of the shaft of an abandoned lead mine in Flintshire, clinging to the timbers, and apparently asleep. They were startled by a little sand being thrown on them, but they did not attempt to fly or change their place; this happened about Christmas.

For the watery system, Kalm, the traveller, is a decided advocate: my uncle shewed me a part of his travels in America, in which there is a good deal on this subject; but I must say it does not clear up my doubts. From Spain, Italy, and France, Kalm admits that they remove to warmer climates; but in England and Germany, he says they retire into clefts and holes of rocks, and in cold countries immerse themselves in the sea, or in lakes. He gives several instances of their having been found in this state in Prussia; but even by his own account it does not appear that they could have been to any depth in the water--for all those which he mentions were caught with a net among the reeds and rushes growing on the borders.

“Besides,” said my uncle, “as they are lighter than water, they could not sink even if they tried to do so; and as the lungs of birds differ very little in their structure from those of quadrupeds, it is quite incredible that they could live for several months or for several minutes under water. Even diving birds come up exhausted, and would be drowned like any other animal, if retained under water beyond a certain time. Swallows and martins indeed sprinkle and splash themselves as they glide along the surface, but they never dip completely into the water for a single moment. At the season when they disappear there is no want of their insect food in the air; nor have any of those cold blasts come, which at a later period would benumb them; what, then, could induce them, particularly the young birds who have just begun to enjoy the use of their wings, to take a dreary plunge into a pond? Cold and scarcity may drive some animals to hibernate, like your little dormouse, Bertha, but I am satisfied that the whole tribe of swallows fly off, like other birds of passage, to distant countries.”

“To what countries?” I asked him.