IN LITERATURE 19 



he was Gilbert White over again. The birds that 

 were happy enough to settle under his wing enjoyed 

 the immunities of absolute sanctuary. He went about 

 poking after their nests as ardently as any of those 

 boys of his who were brought up in his tastes. He 

 can tell you almost to a day when it is their habit 

 to set about nest-making. He can detect the presence 

 of the shyest of them by their note ; and should any 

 stranger turn up unexpectedly his voice betrays his 

 incognito, although he should keep himself modestly 

 concealed. In short, we could expatiate for ever on 

 St. John, but we have recalled enough of him to show 

 what an enjoyable life may be led by a man of his 

 fortunate turn of mind. 



Nor have we time to linger with Stoddart and 

 Stewart among the Scottish lochs and salmon-rivers, or 

 the silvery trouting-streams of the Highlands and 

 Border. But we cannot come southward again without 

 an allusion to the veteran Christopher North in his 

 Recreations. All accomplished as he was politician and 

 philosopher, essayist, romance-writer, and poet Pro- 

 fessor Wilson was a born sportsman, if ever there was 

 one. In spite of their joyous and humorous exaggera- 

 tion, nothing in the " Noctes Ambrosianas " is so 

 piquant as the passages where the merry party warms 

 up to the recollection of some grand day with the gun 

 or the rod. As when the Shepherd gives the reins to 

 his glowing imagination in recounting his exploits on 

 the way from Mount Benger to Tibbie Shiels', where 

 he found the water everywhere in such magnificent 



