"WHEN THE PIE WAS OPENED."*
WHEN the parcel of review books came, the birds did indeed begin to sing. Before, one had just been a dull grown-up person in a room in London, wondering if the sun was going to get through the fog. Came Carter Paterson, Santa Claus of daily life, with twelve Nature bOoks for children, and the sun did come out. Not only that. Also, the London sky folded itself up neatly, selvedge to selvedge, and put itself away in a drawer with the grown-up feeling and winter. A vast blue heaven, where larks hung like thristmas-tree angels, arched above, and a small child wandered in the standing hay-grass of a long-suffering father. Forests of ox-eye daisies and quaker-grass waved above the white clover and the red. Butterflies stood on their heads in ecstasy. Bumble-bees rushed by with the crescendo and diminuendo sound of tiny express trains. Mysterious walls of fragrance rose about one—pihk above the clover, white where the hawthorn was, blue at the entrance to the hyacinth wood—thick, - soft walls through which you could walk to more marvels. And, as I said, the birds began to sing, " All at once, and all in tune." Piping and fluting, whistling and trilling, while the grave, recollected blackbird uttered his mastering melody and the cuckoo's two notes throbbed like a pulse, they made the place all in a charm. " They cherme as byrds do when they make a noyse a great nomber together." Starlings, reckless with joy, mimicked the predatory owl, hooting with clownish glee. The insect world was no whit behind. The crickets laid on to their fiddles very heartily, like a Covent Garden orchestra in Tannhauser. No creature but had its note of gaiety. No tree but had its nest. No plant lacked its flower or bud. And when dusk came, and the sweet smell of dew, still the feast and the song went on Over the mauve ladysmocks thrilled the grasshopper-warbler Moths gyrated solemnly to amuse their mates, or put on masks (as the puss-moth does) to alarm unwelcome guests. The night-jar's spinning-wheel had been busy a long while when—hark ! it is the father's bed-time call. Through long shadows and moony gleams the child runs home, secure in the faith that " to-morrow will be as to-day, and much more abundant."
Aware of the enormity of such disquisitions, I return to my parcel. If blame is due for the vision, let it be borne by those wizards, Mr. Roland Green, Mr. Pycraft and the other authors and artists mentioned below.
Last year I had the pleasure of reviewing Mr. Pycraft's Birds in Flight, illustrated by Mr. Green. This year the same artist has collaborated with Mr. Coward, whose book, Bird Haunts and Nature Memories, was one of the interesting collections of Nature essays last year, though it had not the charm of the present volume, Birds and their' Yoimg.1 Youngness is the essence of this book, and in the depicting of youngness Mr. Green is an adept. Delightful are the baby shell-ducks with their expression of derring-do, and the long- tailed tits seated before their elaborate domicile. The dipper and her domed nest are good also, though the artist has for- gotten her white eyelashes. This brings me to my chief criticism. The otherwise perfect picture on the wrapper is marred by the fact that the hen robin is painted as bright in breast as the cock. I have. never seen one' more than. faintly red, the main colour being a sort of yellowy brown. The hen yellow-hammer also seems to me too bright. Is feminism spreading to the avian world ? The hawks are very well done, with the innocent-relentless look. that all. birds of prey have. The tinting is delicate and rich, especially • (1) Birds and Their Young. By T. A. Coward, M.Sc., &c. Illustrated by Roland Green, F.Z.S. London : Gay and Hancock. [10s. 6d. net.)—(2) The Wonder Book of Nature. Edited by Harry Goldin:, F.R.G.S. Illustrated. London : Ward, Lock. 16s. net.)—(3) British Birds. By Percival Westell, F.L.S. Illus- trated by Doris Meyer. The Abbey Nature Books. London : Chapman and Dodd. 15s. net.]—(4) British Butterflies and .Moths. Same author and publisher. [3s. Bd. net.]—(5) British Insects. Same author, publisher and price.—(3) British 'legates. Amphibians and lArrah-Water Fishes. Same author, publisher and price.—(7) By Meadow, Grove and Stream. By Henry Hilton Brown, F.E.S. Illustrated. London : R.T.S. net.1—(S)Dragens and Dragon Slayers. By Frederick W. Haekwood. Illustrated by Gordon Browne, R.I. Same publisher and price.—(9)'Sketcbald,-The New Forest Pony. By Allen W. Seaby, Illustrated. London : Black. [68. net.] —(10) Barbrooke Grubb, Pathfinder. By N. .1. Davidson, B.A. Illustrated. London : Seeley, Service. [3s. 6d. net.]—(11) The Adventures of Twinkley Byes; By Allen Chaffee. Illustrated. London : Grant Richards. [5s. net.]—(12) Tiny Toilets and l'heir Works. By G. Glenwood Clark. ' Illustrated, London : Harrap. Ps. Sd. in the painting of woodcock. There is an amusing drawing of a tern offering, in a nonchalant manner, a fish to his lady. In his very able chapters Mr. Coward begins with the nest and takes us full-circle through infancy, helpless or precocious adolescence, food•and feeding grounds, lessons in flight, bird language and maturity, to the courtship display. He tells us not only of the mating music, but of- the drumming of snipe, the roding of woodcock, the linnet exhibiting his rosy breast, the lap-wing placing bits of grass before his chosen partner, and whirling round in an offhand manner as if to say, " A nest ? My idea I Take it or leave it." This is a book of great merit, and so is The Wonder Book of Nature,' to ,which Mr. Pycraft and other distinguished naturalists have contributed. Mr. Golding is an excellent editor, and has arranged such a repast of mingled wonder and beauty as will delight all children. From African lions to a rose-leaf cut by a bee, from Vesuvius to a diatom, the subjects range, illustrated by scientific plates and by pictures of woodland glades and daffodils and branches of blossom. There are some coloured plates too, and Mr. Roland Green appears again as a painter of butterflies. In the diverse chapters we hear, among other things, what the flowers are doing at night, what the trees are doing in winter, how butterflies make themselves look like leaves, and insects turn themselves into musical instruments. Mr. Charles Whymper's painting of an eagle, with its frame of soft gold, makes a beautiful cover design. "The Abbey Nature Books",4,5,6 are a mine of information about almost all forms of animate life in the British Isles (the book on mammals was published previously). The salient facts about each species are tersely and clearly expressed, and the author manages to include in small space most of the things we want to know. Many books of this' kind are disappointing because they so often leave out the very thing one is looking for. Mr. Westell has not only a vast store of knowledge, writing as easily about fish and lizards, frogs, dragonflies, and beetles as he does about birds and butterflies, but lie has the gift of imparting it in con- centrated form. This is just what is wanted in popular Nature books. In the bird book he gives an index of families with the various birds belonging to each. In the volume itself each bird has about a page. The other volumes are on the same lines, and those on insects and reptiles are unusually interesting, because these are comparatively seldom treated of. The illustrations by Doris Meyer are very good, especially the coloured ones in the bird book. The dipper on page 80 is unconvincing. Though there is nothing absolutely wrong with it, the artist has not caught the likeness. Also, on the wrapper of Butterflies and Moths, the Painted Lady seems, in colour, too much like a tortoiseshell.
I must mention, risking the accusation of a " robin complex," that Mr. Westell holds the same theory about hen robins as Mr. Green. Now, either these two authorities are wrong, or all the dear, dowdy little hen robins I have ever met have been frauds or freaks, which would seem to make Nature herself wrong. What is the way out of this dilemma ?
By Meadow, Grove and Stream7 is a pleasant book of leafy gossip including chapters on familiar butterflies, birds, flowers and trees, illustrated with drawings. The silverweed• is referred to as goosegrass, a name I thought belonged exclusively to one of the bedstraws. Three boys' books come next. Dragons and Dragon Slayers° is not a Nature book- except by virtue of the last chapter, which treats of dinosaurs and other real dragons ; but it must be included because of Gordon Browne's lovely illustrations, which will fascinate boys. Skewbald, The New Forest Pony° has some good descriptions of moorland and forest, their fauna and flora, wild weather, and ponies galloping across purple table-lands or going in Indian file along green rides. Barbrooke Grubb" in spite of its dreadful title, has some good chapters about egg collecting and Chaco wizards. The Adventures of Twinkled Eyes" is a book of charming stories for tiny children. There are no nightmares in it, for none of the furry folk are ever killed. Last comes a very unusual book. Tiny Toilers" ought t r be in every schoolroom. It tells of ants that make gardens and mushroom-beds, keep cows, grow rice, and sew
leaves together by using their own live babies as needles. • This sounds like a fairy tale, but it is scientifically correct.'
The magic of it is making me once more feel as if the London sky were folding itself away. Therefore I must cease.
MARY WEBB.
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