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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
302
In
looking
back
to
these
days,
I
am
chiefly
struck
by
my
extraordinary
ignorance
of
the
common
objects
of
the
countryside,
for
although
we
lived
in
the
far
west
country,
the
house,
without
a
garden,
was
in
the
middle
of
the
town,
and
all
my
seniors
were
as
ignorant
as
I.
Nature
Study
in
the
schools
did
not
then
exist,
I
had
no
benevolent
paterfamilias
to
take
me
by
the
hand
and
point
out
the
common
British
Birds;
for
my
father's
only
interest
was
in
politics.
I
can
remember
coming
home
once
all
agog
with
a
wonderful
Bird
I
had
seen--like
a
tiny
Magpie,
I
said.
No
one
could
tell
me
that
it
was,
of
course,
only
a
little
Pied
Wagtail.
The
absence
of
sympathy
or
of
congenial
companionship,
however,
had
absolutely
no
effect
in
damping
my
ardour.
As
I
grew
older
my
egg-collecting
companions
fell
away,
some
took
up
the
law,
or
tailoring,
or
clerking,
some
entered
the
Church,
while
I
became
yearly
more
engrossed.
In
my
childhood
my
enthusiasm
lay
like
a
watch-spring,
coiled
up
and
hidden
inside
me,
until
that
Thrush's
nest
and
eggs
seized
hold
of
it
by
the
end
and
pulled
it
out
by
degrees
in
a
long
silver
ribbon.
I
kept
live
Bats
in
our
upstairs
little-used
drawing-room,
and
Newts
and
Frogs
in
pans
in
the
backyard.
My
mother
tolerated
these
things
because
I
had
sufficiently
impressed
her
with
the
importance
to
science
of
the
observations
which
I
was
making
and
about
to
publish.
Those
on
Bats
indeed
were
thought
fit
to
be
included
in
a
standard
work
--Barrett-Hamilton's
Mammals
of
Great
Britain
and
Ireland.
The
published
articles
served
to
bring
me
into
correspondence
with
other
naturalists,
and
I
shall
never
forget
my
excitement
on
receiving
for
the
first
time
a
letter
of
appreciation.
It
was
from
the
author
of
several
natural
history
books,
to
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