Some Haunts of the Snipe, 5 1 



yond. Over the high peat banks which shut 

 it in are outlying farm-lands, and along its 

 sides have grown up a fringe of rushes. 

 Just the place for a terrified snipe to drop 

 for a moment's shelter, and sure enough, 

 just before we come to the end, up jumps a 

 bird, — ten to one the fellow we flushed on 

 the moor behind, which we saw flew in this 

 direction. He sits just as well this time as 

 before, and, we notice, makes his way back 

 towards his original resting-place. 



At the end of the lane we emerge on to 

 a vast open stretch of moor and marsh, about 

 seven miles in length and two in width, 

 bounded on our right side by low hills, and 

 on the left by a river of considerable size, to 

 which various tributary streams run from the 

 high ground. They are for the most part 

 overgrown with vegetation, the water in some 

 cases being altogether hidden. It is a dull 

 lowering day, and the sombreness of the scene 

 impresses, though it does not depress us ; for 

 do we not behold the chosen haunt of the 

 mysterious little bird we hope to shoot in 



