IX A German First of September 485 



the early part of the day seemed at first sight almost 

 boundless, yet a short German mile towards the 

 Rhine it began to dip ; and though here and there 

 great sheets of table-land kept up the general 

 appearance, deep gullies ran through it, sometimes 

 a quarter of a mile or more in breadth, with steep 

 sides, and level, plashy bottoms, swarming in winter 

 with woodcocks and snipes ; their sides clothed with 

 well-grown beech-trees, all running down towards the 

 larger valleys that carried the used-up blood of the 

 country into that great vein, the Rhine. 



Down these we went, beating and brushing, 

 forcing our way through the thick coppice of the 

 sides, and trampling thousands of purple autumn 

 crocuses in the rich moist bottoms ; swishing through 

 the rank-smelling beds of monkshood ; and shoot- 

 ing nothing, — seeing nothing to shoot. 



At length, reaching a thick patch of stunted 

 beech lying on the slope of one of the little valleys, 

 it was determined to beat it out secundum artem. 

 The mass of men went into the little valley below, 

 and I was left at the post of honour a-top. After 

 a few minutes' shouting, yelling, and clapping in 

 the distance, out bounced a whacking brown fox, 

 and carrying his brush gallantly made a straight 

 line across country. I gave spasmodically a view- 

 halloo, in a manner that I flattered myself would 

 have done credit to the oldest ' cover-lurker ' in 

 Leicestershire ; and fancying at the same time 

 that I had given these Teutonic yokels a lesson 



