The Natural History of Selborne

Gathered in the dearling apples: fruit small, & stunted.

Dr Chandler mows the church-litton closes for hay.  Farmer Parsons houses pease, which have been hacked for weeks.  Barley abroad.

Master Hale houses barley that looks like old thatch.  Much barley about the country, & some wheat.  Some pheasants found in the manour.  The sound of great guns was heard distinctly this day to the S.E. probably from Goodwood, where the Duke of Richmond has a detachment from the train of artillery encamped in his park, that he may try experiments with some of the ordnance.

The crop of stoneless berberries is prodigious!  Among the many sorts of people that are injured by this very wet summer, the peat-cutters are great sufferers:  for they have not disposed of half the peat & turf which they ave prepared; & the poor have lost their season for laying in their forest fuel.  The brick-burner can get no dry heath to burn his lime, & bricks: nor can I house my cleft wood, which lies drenched in wet.  The brick-burner could never get his last makings of tiles & bricks dry enough for burning the autumn thro’ so they must be destroyed, & worked up again.  He had paid duty for them; but is, I understand, to be reimbursed.

Many Hirundines: several very young swallows on the thatch of the cottage near the pound.  The evening is uncommonly dark.

Hirundines swarm around the Plestor, & up & down the street.

Flying ants, male & female, usually swarm, & migrate on hot sunny days in August & Septembr; but this day a vast emigration took place in my garden & myriads came forth in appearance, from the drain which goes under the fruit-wall; filling the air & adjoining trees & shrubs with their numbers.  The females were full of eggs.  This late swarming is probably owing to the backward, wet season.  The day following, not one flying ant was to be seen.  The males, it is supposed all perish: the females wander away; & such as escape the Hirundines get into the grass, & under stones, & tiles, & lay the foundation of future colonies.

Wheat out at Buriton, Froxfield, Ropely, & other places.

There is a remarkable hill on the downs near Lewes in Susses, known by the name of Mount Carburn, which over-looks that town, & affords a most engaging prospect of all the country round, besides several views of the sea.  On the very summit of this exalted promontory, & amidst the trenched of its Danish camp, there haunts a species of wild Bee, making it’s nest in the chalk soil.  When people approach the place, these insects begin to be alarmed, & with a sharp & hotile sound dash, & strike round the heads & faces of intruders.  I have often been interrupted myself while contemplating the grandeur of the scenery around me, & have thought myself in danger of being stung:– and have heard my Brother Benjamin say, that he & his daughter Rebecca were driven from the spot by the fierce menaces of these angry insects.  In old days Mr Hay of Glynd Bourn, the Author of Deformity, & other works, wrote a loco-descriptive poem on the beauties of Mount Carburn.

Strong, cold gale.