Connected with the plumage of birds is an extraordinary problem which has baffled all research, and towards the solution of which not the slightest approach has been made. Among certain of the gallinaceous birds, and it has been observed in no other family, the females occasionally assume the male plumage. Among pheasants in a wild state, the hen thus metamorphosed, assumes with the livery a disposition to war with her own race, but in confinement she is spurned and buffeted by the rest. From what took place in a hen pheasant in the possession of a lady, a friend of the late Sir Joseph Banks, it would seem probable that this change arises from some alteration in the temperament at a late period of the animal's life. This lady had paid particular attention to the breeding of pheasants. One of the hens, after having produced several broods, moulted, and the succeeding feathers were exactly those of a cock. This animal never afterwards laid an egg. The pea-hen, has sometimes been known to take the plumage of the cock bird. Lady Tynte had a favourite pea-hen, which at eight several times produced chicks. Having moulted when about eleven years old, the lady and her family were astonished by her displaying the feathers peculiar to the other sex, and appearing like a pied peacock. In this process the tail, which was like that of the cock, first appeared. In the following year she moulted again, and produced similar feathers. In third year she did the same, and then had also spurs resembling those of the cock. The bird never bred after this change of her plumage.
TILBURY FORT.
The chief fame of Tilbury rests on the formation of the camp here, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, to defend London against the Spanish invasion. Although it is unnecessary to recount the well-known circumstances which led to the formation of the Tilbury camp, it may not be out of place to give the famous speech of Queen Elizabeth on the occasion of her visit:—
"My loving People,—We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we trust ourselves to armed multitudes for fear of treachery; but assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear. I have always so behaved myself that under God I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and goodwill of my subjects; and therefore I am come among you at this time, not as for my recreation or sport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all—to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood even in the dust. I know that I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart of a king, and a king of England too; and I think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realms to which, rather than any dishonour shall grow by me, I will myself take up arms—I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your victories in the field."
The most full description of Elizabeth's reception at Tilbury is printed in a sort of doggrel poem, headed, "Elizabetha Triumphans, briefly, truly, and effectually set forth, declared, and handled by James Aske."
The poem mentions, that when about 20,000 well-appointed men had arrived at Tilbury, orders were sent to the various shires to cause the troops in each to remain until further notice; and so great was the desire to meet the enemy, that one thousand men of Dorsetshire offered £500 to be allowed to march to the camp at Tilbury.
The alarm of the Spanish invasion was, however, not the last to threaten the Londoners, and direct attention to Tilbury.
On the 8th of June, 1667, Ruyter, the Dutch admiral, sailed out of the Texel with fifty ships, and came to the mouth of the Thames, from whence he detached Vice-Admiral Van Ghent, with seventeen of his lightest ships and some fire-ships. Van Ghent in the same month sailed up the Medway, made himself master of the fort of Sheerness, and, after burning a magazine of stores to the value of £40,000, blew up the fortifications. This action alarmed the City of London; so that to prevent similar mischief, several ships were sunk, and a large chain put across the narrowest part of the Medway. But by means of an easterly wind and a strong tide, the Dutch ships broke through the chain, and sailed between the sunk vessels. They burnt three ships, and carried away with them the hull of the "Royal Charles," besides burning and damaging several others. After this they advanced as far as Upnor Castle, and burnt the "Royal Oak," the "Loyal London," and the "Great James." Fearing that the whole Dutch fleet would sail to London Bridge, the citizens caused thirteen ships to be sunk at Woolwich, and four at Blackwall, and platforms furnished with artillery to defend them were raised in several places. The consternation was very great, and the complaints were no less so. It was openly said the king, out of avarice, had kept the money so generously given to him to continue the war, and left his ships and subjects exposed to the insults of the enemy. After this exploit, Ruyter sailed to Portsmouth, with a design to burn the ships in that harbour; but finding them secured, he sailed to the west, and took some ships in Torbay. He then sailed eastward, beat the English force before Harwich, and chased a squadron of nineteen men-of-war, commanded by Sir Edward Spragg, who was obliged to retire into the Thames. In a word, he kept the coasts of England in a continual alarm all July, till he received news of the conclusion of peace.
