THE FERNY MOORLANDS. 69 



cry of a blackbird, as it darts out of the tiny 

 thicket where its nest is hid ; the rustle in the 

 high embankment on your right, and the quivering 

 of the fern-fronds, followed by the sudden flight 

 across the path of a rabbit, or the rolling, hurrying, 

 scurrying contortions of a snake, which your un- 

 expected appearance may have surprised basking 

 in the tiny gleam of sunshine which has fallen 

 on to the greensward through an opening in the 

 trees overhead ; the heavy splash in the river on 

 your left, as a water-rat, which had not dreamed 

 of your unwelcome intrusion, takes the shortest 

 and readiest path to his hole, diving one moment 

 in one place under the stream, to reappear the 

 next somewhere else, under the belief that mean- 

 while you may think that his power of holding his 

 breath is unlimited ; or the lighter splash of the 

 trout, as, unaware of your presence, it rises in the 

 dark, deep pool near you at the tempting palmer 

 fly that has just dropped from the bushes. All 

 these sights and sounds contribute to the delight 

 of this river-side ramble. Or you may rest for a 

 moment, and, peering cautiously around you, so 



