My dear M^r. Darwin,

My memory says that within a day or two of this date you will spread your wings for a flight to the lakes of Cumberland.¹ That affords me an excuse for writing, because I desire to wish you a bon voyage with a dry and sunny time of it. Ah! happy is the man who is “ruled with a rod of iron”—sua si bona nôrit—and lighter than the lightest feather is the iron of that rod when it descends from a gentle hand upon shoulders for which it is a salutary discipline!² Think what it brings; a pleasant excursion through a beautiful country with agreeable companions; and, for the time at least, freedom from the daily task;—the chances of being interviewed, depicted, chattered at, bored—possibly sermonized by an officious member of the widely diffused Grundy family, a bishop in partibus, or the conceited young curate anxious to try the effect of some unctuous sentences in the discourse he is preparing for delivery on the following Sunday in presence of the rural Dean.³ Oh! Thrice happy is the man that is ruled by a rod of iron whose specific gravity equals that of the finest eider-down!—

As it is now vacation time at Cambridge I am thinking that M^r. G. D. may make one of your party. Should that be so please to give him my cordial salutations. I have not forgotten his generous self immolation by coming here to visit me in the depth of winter amid snow and half a gale from Eastward.⁴

If you pull up for any time at Ambleside there is a singularly primitive and picturesque hamlet in its neighbourhood, called Trout-beck, out of the line of ordinary tourists, and little known, except to artists.⁵ It is worth a visit when the question arises, “What shall we do to day”?— But I am referring to primaeval times, before the rail, the steam boat, and big hotel had invaded the “Lakers” district; so it may be transformed into a cockney suburb of stucco “villas” by this time.

I have seen a house fly,⁶ the first of the year, on this 27^th. day of July; while in ordinary seasons one or two generally keep me company all the winter through. And every year since I have lived here a goodly company of little spotted fly-catchers⁷ has done me the honour of passing the summer months on the iron railings at bottom of my lawn. This year two couples appeared in June—remained three days,—no more—and not a single one has visited my premises since their departure. What better proof could one have of the unusual inclemency of this spring and summer?⁸ I hope that you had luck with your hay— Mine, a good three tons, after laying out a fortnight, but stacked a fortnight ago, was discovered yesterday to have become musty from top to bottom, throughout, and throughout.

My respects to M^rs. Darwin; and may the “Clerk of the weather” have you and yours in his holy keeping; now and ever.⁹ | Very truly | Anthony Rich

P.S. and N.B. | These idle scribblings of mine, are not to inflict upon you the penalty of writing in return. Only when you get back to your own home it would give me great pleasure to hear that you had thoroughly enjoyed your tour, and reinvigorated your health.

I was just upon the point of closing up my envelope with the preceding when I bethought me of that flock of starlings that you “wot of”.—¹⁰ I am certain that each old bird attended to one only young one, and that the two never changed about with others.— But I have made another guess to explain the matter— Here, on my lawn I often see an old bird feeding a young one—either starlings, thrushes blackbirds, or once a chaffinch—but with a single exception presently to be mentioned, only one old and one young one at a time. And it now occurs to me that the stronger ones of the brood are able to shift for themselves immediately upon leaving the nest, while the parent takes charge of any weakly one for a short time longer till it too is strong enough to take care of itself.— Thus several birds of different families might be foraging together when they belong to groups which habitually congregate, without their being charged with the awful crime of communism, for which there is no hope here or hereafter!—

Once this summer I have watched a starling with two young ones in attendance, one on each side of her or him, (whichever it was)— They kept their distance fairly at about a yard laterally from the old one, and slightly in the rear; advancing at equal distances as the old one moved on, and as regularly as drilled soldiers. They never changed sides. The old bird distributed its finds with equal justice first on one side then on the other; but never, as far as I could observe, favoured either side by giving what we used to call when schoolboys “two helps” to the same open mouthed claimant in succession. That confirms in some degree what you say about the nestlings being fed in fair rotation all round, as I, in my ignorance, have often surmised must be the fact.—¹¹

Very many thrushes & blackbirds build in my shrubberies, and forage for the young ones, and, I suppose, the “missus”, on my lawn, which abounds in worms. The old bird never flies up to the nest until he has collected several choice morsels in his beak, as many, I fancy, as there are young ones in the nest, one for each; for I observe that he breaks one worm into several pieces, & then hunts for another, which is submitted to the same process; the first lot being deposited on the grass by his side, while the second is being manipulated—rostripulated¹²—or carved into the fitting number of portions. Then off he goes with all the fragments in his beak together.

I had something to say about blackbirds likewise; but my conscience tells me that I have already trespassed too much upon your good nature; and I stand in fear that a certain rod might be laid rather heavily and very deservedly upon my back, if I were to act as people who take likenesses do!— — —Addio!— | AR