May we not also find that when these pursuits are cultivated with a constant reference to the Great Creator," and when through them we endeavour to habituate our minds to the contemplation of his power and goodness, may we not trust, with a better hope, that such a study will be productive of advantages, which shall not desert us at the hour of death."

The love of Nature works,

And warms the bosom; till at last sublim'd

To rapture, and enthusiastic heat,

We feel the present Deity, and taste

The joy of God to see a happy world!

THOMSON.

FOREST Scenery is, perhaps, better adapted than any other for the contemplation of the works of Nature. There we may with least disturbance study those objects which are generally far removed from the haunts of men. We learn to cherish those gentle thoughts, which endear many a woodland walk, and afford delightful associations as we stroll through a sequestered nook, a bushy dell, or by a "bosky bourn." We may then exclaim in the beautiful language of Milton

I know each land, and every alley green,
Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,

And every bosky bourn from side to side.

In the spring and summer months, every field is a wilderness of beauty, full of enjoyment. Every copse or hedge-row is redolent of sweets. A lesson full of meaning is then conveyed to us with touching simplicity, proclaiming gently, but irresistibly, and in cheerfulness and peace, the

superintendence of a kind and benevolent Providence. The loveliest images are presented to our imagination, whether it be a flock of sheep watched over by their shepherd — a brood of chickens fostered under the wing of their mother, or flowers clothed with beauty by their Great Creator. When we reflect, also, how bountifully the means of occupation and happiness are spread before us, and how cheaply some of our truest pleasures may be purchased, we may learn to be thankful for such a lavish dispensation of blessings. We may then feel that even the most lowly things are not insignificant, and that Nature is every where pregnant with the best kind of in

struction.

I shall always reflect with pleasure on some interesting rides I had this spring with an intelligent friend and naturalist, in the more retired parts of Windsor Great Park and Forest. The gentle rains had invigorated the earth every thing had just burst into freshness and beauty - the birds sang their joyous notes the Cuckoo was heard in every direction-the green Woodpecker uttered its wild cry, and the Herons were making their silent gyrations over our heads, as we rode under the trees on which their nests were forming. We there contemplated an enormous beech-tree (and there are very many in this fine park), spreading its widely extended branches which were clothed

with their early and glittering leaves, while the sight of some sturdy old oak pollards, covered with ivy, from which

The stock-dove only through the forest cooes

Mournfully hoarse

verdant hollies, and here and there a wild cherry tree, with its silvery blossoms, added to the charm of the scenery. Sometimes a rabbit, a hare, or a pheasant would run for shelter amongst the ferna herd of deer might be seen reposing in some sequestered dell, or a group of cattle indolently standing in the shallow water of a pond. Such was the spot we were engaged in contemplating with that delight which a lover of nature alone can experience, (it was near the Sandpit gate), when our attention was called to the hoarse croaking of a pair of Ravens, who were apparently endeavouring to take possession of one of the nests of the herons that build on the tops of the trees, which, in this part of the park, far exceed in height any I have yet met with. The heron defended its nest with great courage, uttering shrill and distressed cries, and after the battle had lasted some length of time, the ravens were beaten off.

This herony is a noble appendage to the Park, and any monarch might well be proud of it, as well as of the trees on which the nests are built. As I am not aware of there being more than

eleven or twelve heronries left in this country, it is to be hoped that every care will be taken of the one referred to. Severe penalties were formerly imposed on any person killing a heron, and I believe that the laws enacting them have not been repealed; at present we find herons amongst the trophies nailed by keepers upon some stunted oak tree, in the midst of magpies, jays, owls and polecats, although the damage they do to fish-ponds is comparatively trifling, feeding, as they chiefly do, upon frogs, snails, water-rats and small eels. In the breeding season, when they have to provide for their ravenous young, they may attack the larger sort of fish, but the interest which must always be attached to this royal bird, connected as it is with the chivalry and ancient sports of this country, ought to be sufficient to protect it from wanton destruction, independently of its own wild and picturesque character.

In order to ascertain, as far as we were able, the extent of destruction committed by these persecuted birds in the breeding season, my companion, whose thirst for information on subjects connected with natural history is of no ordinary degree, procured a young heron about two-thirds grown, which had fallen from the nest and been killed. On dissecting it, the stomach was found very large and much distended. It contained fishbones, one fish, probably, from its appearance, a