November 3, 1777
Sea-gulls, winter-mews, haunt the fallows. Beetles flie.
Sea-gulls, winter-mews, haunt the fallows. Beetles flie.
Ring-ouzels still on the downs near Alresford. they have left these parts some time.
Gluts of rain, much thunder. The trees & hedges are much broken, & the thatch is torn. Much damage done to the shipping: chimneys, & some houses blown down in London.
Hogs are put-up in their fatting pens. The hanging woods are beautifully tinged.
Found the Sphinx atropos, or death’s-head moth, a noble insect, of vast size: it lays it’s eggs on the Jasmine. When handled, it makes a little, stridulous noise. A squirrel in my hedges. Insects retreat into the roof of my new building.
Fine autumnal weather. Mr Richardon’s nectarines & peaches still in perfection.
What becomes of those massy clouds that often incumber the atmosphere in the day, & yet disappear in the evening. Do they melt down into dew? * Some of the store wethers on this down now prove fat, & weigh 15 pounds a quarter. This incident never befals but in long dry seasons; & then the mutton has a delicate flavour.
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