1 6 Spring 



and owl, he ventures him forth. And so with vole 

 and shrew, with fox and otter and badger, with hedge- 

 hog and squirrel ; each has one spot that is home to 

 him, and whence he will not wander save under stress 

 of necessity. Indeed, the very river appears to be a 

 series of homes. The red-finned perches, that travel 

 up and down in shoals, invariably come back to the 

 deep hole close to the bank frayed by the beat of the 

 water. In the summer days of three generations an 

 aged and wary pike has held himself as if asleep in a 

 pool all dense with water-weed, in a stream so gentle 

 you may hardly discern the soft movement of the fin 

 that enables him to withstand its compulsion. What 

 angler has not essayed the great salmon that year after 

 year returns from the sea to his quarters in the smooth 

 pool by the willow ? The eel has his little holding of 

 mud, and the bull-trout his fixed domain. Whoever 

 knows a river knows that its tenants are as regularly 

 visible as the blue speedwells in the grass, the sedges 

 where the moor-hen makes her nest, or the holes in 

 the bank to which the sand-martin comes back with 

 Spring. The needs of life may drive them forth upon 

 adventure, but they would fain return to their original 

 abode. 



The inevitable corollary is, that to live in most per- 

 fect adjustment to Nature, andindeepest sympathy with 

 her, is to be possessed most strongly by the passion 

 of home. During a lifetime, patriarchal in its term, 

 hundreds of new scenes and new ideas effect a lodgment 



