[Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER
VOL. XX.—NO. 1017.] JUNE 24, 1899. [PRICE ONE PENNY.]
EARLY MORNING NATURE-STUDY.
[Illustration: MRS. BRIGHTWEN IN HER GARDEN.]
_All rights reserved._]
To a true lover of nature hardly anything can be more thoroughly
enjoyable than a quiet hour spent in some shady spot early on a
summer’s morning, whilst the dew is still upon the flowers, and before
any sounds can be heard except those made by happy birds and insects.
In my garden there is a little dell embowered by trees, where I often
spend an hour or two before breakfast for the special purpose of
enjoying the company of my pet wild creatures.
On one side are five arches, formed possibly some hundreds of years
ago, since the great stones are grey with age and picturesquely
moss-grown and ivy-clad. Young trees, too, are growing here and there
out of the crevices into which the wind has wafted their seeds.
In an open space before me are groups of stately foxgloves of every
tint, ranging from purple through rose-colour to pure white. Some of
them have stems fully seven feet in height, each bearing not fewer than
a hundred and forty or fifty flowers.
Not only amongst these foxgloves, but in the lime branches overhead
innumerable bees keep up a continuous murmuring sound as they busily
gather their morning store of honey.
Various tall grasses are sending up their feathery plumes, and in
a special bed where only wild flowers are allowed to grow, teasel,
hypericum, valerian, and bog-myrtle are delighting my eyes by the free,
graceful way in which they make themselves at home as if in their
native habitat.
Under one of the arches the birds always find an abundance of food,
which I strew for them several times in the day.
There I see young blackbirds, chaffinches, hedge-sparrows, wrens, and
titmice feasting and flitting about, quite regardless of my presence.
One advantage of this retreat is that no house-sparrows come here to
annoy the more timid birds.
The quietness and peace of this secluded spot is in marked contrast
to the scenes I witness near the house. There sparrows reign supreme.
They come down in flocks to gorge themselves and their offspring upon
the sopped bread, rudely driving away many other kinds of birds that I
would fain encourage.
It may be observed that I have not spoken of robins feeding under the
archway, because only one haunts this spot, and he is my special pet,
and elects to sit on a bough close to me warbling his sweet low song,
and occasionally accepting some choice morsel from my hand.
When he was a brown-coated youngster I began to feed and attract him,
and in one week he gained so much confidence as to alight on my hand.
He is now my devoted adherent, flying to meet me in different parts of
the garden as soon as he hears my voice.
I am much interested, and I think he is also, in the development of
the little scarlet waistcoat which marks his arrival at maturity. I saw
the first red feather appear, just a mere tinge of colour amongst the
rest, and now daily I see the hue is deepening. If bathing and pluming
will tend to make him a handsome robin, he bids fair to outshine his
compeers, for he is always busy about his toilet, first fluttering in
a large clam-shell, which contains water, and then becoming absorbed
in his preening operations, which nothing will interrupt but the
appearance of another robin, who, of course, must be flown at and
driven away.
Birds, however, are not my only visitors. Some tame voles or field-mice
creep stealthily in and out of the rockwork and find their way to the
birds’ feeding-ground, where they also enjoy the seeds and coarse
oatmeal, and amuse me much with their graceful play and occasional
scrimmages. Field-mice are easily tamed and made happy in captivity.
Last year I coaxed a pair of these voles into a large glass globe,
and kept them long enough to observe sundry family events, such as
nest-building, the arrival of some baby-voles, and their development
from small pink infants into full-grown mice, and then I set the whole
family at liberty under the archway, where they now disport themselves
with all the confidence of privileged rodents.
By remaining absolutely still for an hour or two, quietly reading or
thinking, one has delightful opportunities of seeing rare birds quite
at their ease.
A green woodpecker, all unconscious of my presence, is clinging to an
old tree stem near by, and I can not only hear his tapping noise, but
I am able to observe how he is supported by the stiff feathers in his
tail, which press against the tree, and how his long tongue darts into
crevices in the bark and draws out the insects upon which he feeds.
I follow his upward progress around the stem until he flies away with
the loud laughing cry which has earned for him the local name of Yaffle.
Hawfinches are by no means common in this neighbourhood, but one
morning I was much interested to be able to watch three or four of
these birds, which had alighted on the top of a spruce fir in this
dell. Their golden-red plumage glistened brightly as they busily
flitted from branch to branch, snapping off small fir-sprays with
their powerful beaks, and chattering to each other all the while like
diminutive parrots.
Now the early morning sun is sending shafts of brilliant light through
the thick foliage, and bringing out special objects in high relief.
Just beside me is a large mass of grey stone, moss-grown and
fern-shaded. The sun has lighted up one side of this; the rest is in
shadow, so that it forms a picture in itself, and my robin has alighted
on it as though on purpose to give the touch of colour that was needed.
All my readers may not have so sweet a spot in which to study nature,
but I do strongly commend to them the delight of a quiet time spent
alone out-of-doors in the early morning.
The air is then so pure and fresh that it seems to invigorate one’s
mind no less than one’s body, and in the country the sights and sounds
are such as tend to helpful thoughts of the love and goodness of the
Creator Who has blessed us with so much to make us happy, if only we
will open our eyes and hearts to see and understand the works of His
hands.
ELIZA BRIGHTWEN.
LETTERS FROM A LAWYER.
PART VIII.
The Temple.
MY DEAR DOROTHY,—Nothing seems to puzzle the ordinary public so much
as the law of omnibus travelling, and in one of two cases which I saw
reported the other day, the worthy County Court judge seems, if he
were correctly reported, to have made a slip and nonsuited a plaintiff
with a good cause of action. I am inclined to think, however, that it
was the reporter who made the slip and not the judge, by omitting an
important point in the case which had escaped his notice, and I think I
can pretty well guess what that point was.
As both the actions arose out of incidents of everyday occurrence,
which might happen to anyone, I will here relate them for your benefit.
The first case was one in which a lady claimed damages from an omnibus
company—I think it was the London General, but that is a detail—on
account of injuries received through the misconduct of the conductor.
It appears that there had been a previous altercation between the
parties, and that when the lady rose to go out, he pushed her off the
step and started the bus, so that the lady fell down and injured her
leg.
The judge very properly nonsuited the plaintiff, because it is not
part of an omnibus conductor’s duties to violently push people off
his omnibus; such behaviour on his part was something outside of his
ordinary duties as a servant of the Company. The lady therefore had
no cause of action against the Company; her remedy was against the
conductor for the assault.
This may seem to you, my dear Dorothy, to be a very unsatisfactory
state of affairs, but so it is, and it seems to me to be good sense
and good law, although I admit that an action against a wealthy omnibus
company and one against a poor conductor are not quite the same thing.
In the other case a lady brought an action against an omnibus
company to recover the value of a dress, which she stated had been
damaged owing to her falling into the mud through the negligence or
carelessness of the conductor in starting the omnibus before she had
taken her seat.
According to the report, as I read it, she was going upstairs, but
before she got to the top, the conductor, without giving her any
warning, rang his bell, and the omnibus started with a jerk, which
threw her off into the mud and spoilt her dress.
Now if these had been the only facts in the case, I should have said
that this lady was entitled to recover the value of her damaged costume
from the omnibus company, because it is undoubtedly part of the
conductor’s duties to ring his bell and stop to take up and set down
passengers, and if a passenger is going outside he ought not to start
the omnibus until the passenger has secured his seat, or without giving
him warning or taking other reasonable means to see that he gets his
seat in safety.
But in this also the plaintiff was nonsuited, and, although it did
not appear so in the report, the learned judge must have thought that
there was some negligence on the part of the lady. Possibly she had
got on to the omnibus whilst it was in motion, as so many ladies do
nowadays. This would at once put her out of court. If there had not
been contributory negligence of some kind, this lady would have won her
case.
If you meet with an accident through getting on or off an omnibus
whilst it is in motion, you contribute to the accident in not ordering
the conductor to stop, and you have only yourself to blame; if,
however, you had ordered the conductor to stop and he had neglected or
refused to do so, you would probably succeed in an action against the
company.
Nowadays, when nearly all the omnibus companies issue tickets, you
are not bound to show your tickets whenever they are demanded by a
conductor or inspector, but it is wiser to do so because the absence
of a ticket will generally be regarded by the magistrate as evidence
of your not having paid your fare, and unless you have any friends
travelling with you who are ready to come forward and swear that they
saw you purchase a ticket, you will very likely be fined and have to
pay costs as well. If you are travelling in a train or a tram, you are
bound to produce and deliver up your ticket whenever it is demanded by
a servant of the company, the railway and the tramway companies having
special powers to make bye-laws to this effect.
The muzzling orders still remain in force for the Metropolis, although
in the country the dogs are freed of their muzzles.
A man who was summoned the other day for allowing his dog to run about
unmuzzled, tried to make a point by pleading that he did not permit the
dog to run about unmuzzled. Whenever he took the dog out he always put
his muzzle on, but on this occasion the dog had gone out without his
permission. However, the magistrate fined him all the same, just as he
did
Your affectionate cousin,
BOB BRIEFLESS.
THE HOUSE WITH THE VERANDAH.
BY ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO, Author of “Other People’s Stairs,” “Her Object
in Life,” etc.