ion of this sort I
can see has taken place during the thirty years which I have known the
Islands as an occasional visitor. But Mr. MacCulloch, who has been
resident in the Islands for a much longer period--in fact, he has told
me nearly double--has very kindly supplied me with the following very
interesting note on the various changes which have taken place in
Guernsey during the long period he has lived in that island; he says, "I
can well recollect the cutting of most of the main roads, and the
improvement, still going on, of the smaller ones. It was about the
beginning of this century that the works for reclaiming the Braye du
Valle were undertaken; before that time the Clos du Valle[2] was
separated from the mainland by an arm of the sea, left dry at low water,
extending from St. Samson's to the Vale Church. This was bordered by
salt marshes only, covered occasionally at spring tides by the sea, some
of which extended pretty far inland. The meadows adjoining were very
imperfectly drained, as indeed some still are, and covered with reeds
and rushes, forming excellent shelter for many species of aquatic birds.
Now, as you know, by far the greater part of the land is well cultivated
and thickly covered with habitations. The old roads were everywhere
enclosed between high hedges, on which were planted rows of elms; and
the same kind of hedge divided the fields and tenements. Every house,
too, in those days had its orchard, cider being then universally drunk;
and the hill-sides and cliffs were covered with furze brakes, as in all
country houses they baked their own bread and required the furze for
fuel. Now all that is changed. The meadows are drained and planted with
brocoli for the early London market, to be replaced by a crop of
potatoes at the end of the summer. The trees are cut down to let in the
sun. Since the people have taken to gin-drinking, cider is out of favour
and the orchards destroyed. The hedges are levelled to gain a few
perches of ground, and replaced in many places by stone walls; the furze
brakes rooted up, and the whole aspect and nature of the country
changed. Is it to be wondered at that those kinds of birds that love
shelter and quiet have deserted us? You know, too, how every bird--from
the Wren to the Eagle--is popped at as soon as it shows itself, in
places where there are no game laws and every man allowed to carry a
gun."

This interesting description of the changes--agricultural and
other