HA RD WICKE' S SCIENCE- G OSSIP. 



29 



flying about, and I also saw a jay — and heard him, 

 too, as he disappeared screeching. 



It came on to rain about midday, so I sat under a 

 tree, watching some trout in the brook. Presently 

 there was a loud, sharp squeak, and a flash of 

 emerald green and red passed by, and settling on a 

 stump, showed me a kingfisher. I kept quite still 

 and watched him as he sat motionless, with his head 

 on one side, looking at the water. I was in hopes 

 that I should see him catch his dinner, but a fat 

 little forest pony came trotting by and frightened the 

 kingfisher away. As I still sat under the tree, two 

 wild rabbits came flopping along, making a great 

 noise as their hind legs struck against the dry 

 bracken ; they stopped within ten yards of me, but 

 suddenly grew suspicious and sat up on their tails, 



Fig. 18. — Kingfisher {Alceao ispida). 



with their fore paws hanging down, and their long 

 ears erect for a few seconds, then took to their heels. 

 I walked on a little way and heard a pattering noise 

 among the dead leaves on all sides ; for some time, I 

 could not discover the cause, but at length, by 

 creeping quietly up, saw some pheasants running 

 about, looking for food. 



I am, unfortunately, only a beginner at botany, so 

 cannot say anything about the flowers and plants I 

 saw, except that they were lovely ; the district must 

 be specially attractive to lovers of that delightful 

 science. 



The dusk came on all too quickly, and I was 

 obliged to tear myself away, thoroughly enchanted 

 with the forest, its scenery and inhabitants. I may 

 add that, except on the high road, I did not see a 

 human being all day. 



II. J. W. 



STUNG BY AN ADDER. 



CONSIDERING how many " things with stings," 

 with poisonous fangs and venomous properties, 

 there are, even in this favoured England, the wonder 

 is, not that so many, but so few, people are injured. 

 Viper bites, for instance, though common, are not 

 frequent ; and vipers, every one who is familiar 

 with marshy moorland knows, are venomous 

 enough. 



There is a pretty little bit of Devonshire 

 heath-land known as Little Haldon — charm- 

 ing at all seasons of the year, but perhaps 

 looking its best now when the heather is all 

 in flower, and the gorse coming into its 

 second blossoming. On all sides the various 

 autumn berries are ripening ; the kernels 

 have swelled in the nuts. Alternate with 

 the dry moor are coarse patches of marshy 

 ground, where the crossdeaved heather is 

 still in blossom, and brown grasses rise in 

 great tussocks out of the bog-moss. Standing 

 on the marsh the view is beautiful on every 

 side : the neighbouring fields have sheaves of 

 corn standing on them, and from below the 

 jingle of a reaping-machine rings musically 

 in the valley. Truly a delightful place, this 

 bog, but the "snake in the grass" abounds 

 here. Where the bracken or the grasses 

 make a dry spot, there the vipers bask, well 

 warmed in the sunshine, yet close to the 

 water they like so much. You may nearly 

 tread upon them, and hear them rustle away 

 under foot ; or you can make them jump at a 

 stick and fight with it, hissing all the while. 

 "Long Cripples," the Devonshire people call 

 them ; a name instantly suggesting Pope's 

 "wounded snake," although there is nothing 

 crippled in their swift, lithe movements. 

 Long familiarity with the vipers has made us quite 

 indifferent to them during our moorland rambles. 

 We have taken the dogs on the marsh times without 

 number, and no harm has happened to them. But 

 after ninety-nine times of safety, the fatal hundredth 

 arrives— the dogs, after their wont, are careering over 

 the marsh, startling a partridge here, chasing a rabbit 

 there, when one of them, a small white Pomeranian, 

 comes back'tous shrieking, limping, evidently injured, 

 though how or where it is hard to tell. Very soon 

 one foot swells extremely, and he is so stiff that he 

 can scarcely walk ; indeed, although an active little 



