The Natural History of Selborne, Vol. 2

Gilbert White
The Natural History of Selborne,
Vol. 2, by
by Henry Morley

The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Natural History of Selborne, Vol. 2,
by
Gilbert White, Edited by Henry Morley
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Natural History of Selborne, Vol. 2
Author: Gilbert White
Editor: Henry Morley
Release Date: March 29, 2007 [eBook #20934]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE, VOL. 2***

This eBook was transcribed by Les Bowler.

CASSELL'S NATIONAL LIBRARY.

THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE.
BY THE REV. GILBERT WHITE, A.M.
VOL. II.
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED: LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK
& MELBOURNE. 1887.

INTRODUCTION.
Gilbert White's home in the quiet Hampshire village of Selborne is an
old family house that has grown by additions, and has roofs of nature's
colouring, and creeping plants on walls that have not been driven by
scarcity of ground to mount into the air. The house is larger, by a wing,
now than when White lived in it. A little wooded park, that belongs to
it, extends to a steep hill, "The Hanger," clothed with a hanging wood
of beech. The Hanger and the slope of Nore Hill place the village in a
pleasant shelter. A visit to Selborne can be made by a walk of a few
miles from Alton on the South Western Railway. It is a country walk
worth taking on its own account.
The name, perhaps, implies that the place is wholesome. It was a
village in Anglo-Saxon times. Its borne or burn is a brook that has its
spring at the head of the village, and "sael" meant prosperity or health
of the best. It is the "sel" in the German "Selig" and the "sil" in our
"silly," which once represented in the best sense well-being of the
innocent. So our old poets talk of "seely sheep;" but as the guileless are
apt prey to the guileful, silliness came to mean what "blessed
innocence" itself now stands for in the language of men who, poor
fellows, are very much more foolish. So Selborne has a happy old
pastoral name. The fresh, full spring, called the "Well Head," which
gives its name to Selborne, doubtless brought the village to its side by

the constant water supply that it furnished. The rivulet becomes at
Oakhanger a considerable stream.
The Plestor, mentioned in the second letter as having once had a great
oak in it which was blown down in the great storm of 1703--a storm of
which Defoe collected the chief records into a book--bears witness also
to the cheerful village life of old. The name is a corruption of Play-
stow; it was the playground for the village children. That oak blown
down in 1703, which the vicar of the time vainly endeavoured to root
again, was said to have lived 432 years before the time of its overthrow.
The old yew in the churchyard has escaped all storms.
Gilbert White wrote three or four pieces of verse. Of one of them, "An
Invitation to Selborne," these are the closing lines:--
"Nor be that Parsonage by the Muse forgot; The partial bard admires
his native spot; Smit with its beauties, loved, as yet a child,
(Unconscious why) its scapes grotesque and wild. High on a mound th'
exalted garden stands, Beneath, deep valleys, scooped by Nature's hand.
A Cobham here, exulting in his art, Might blend the General's with the
Gardener's part; Might fortify with all the martial trade Of rampart,
bastion, fosse, and palisade; Might plant the mortar with wide
threatening bore, Or bid the mimic cannon seem to roar. Now climb the
steep, drop now your eye below, Where round the blooming village
orchards grow; There, like a picture, lies my lowly seat, A rural,
sheltered, unobserved retreat. Me, far above the rest, Selbornian scenes,
The pendent forests, and the mountain greens, Strike with delight; there
spreads the distant view, That gradual fades till sunk in misty blue;
Here Nature hangs her slopy woods to sight, Rills purl between, and
dart a quivering light."
H. M.

LETTERS TO THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON.
LETTER XV.

SELBORNE, July 8th, 1773.
Dear Sir,--Some young men went down lately to a pond on the verge of
Wolmer Forest to hunt flappers, or young wild-ducks, many of which
they caught, and, among the rest, some very minute yet well-fledged
wild-fowls alive, which upon examination I found to be teals. I did not
know till then that teals ever bred in the south of England, and was
much
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code

 / 56
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.