ji Howe cou^Ties' HSRO^RT 161 



mirrored stalwart oak and silvery birch tree. A belt of 

 sedge stirs slightly as we pass, its brown^ leaves sounding 



still 



" a low lament 



Of unrest and discontent, 



As the story is retold 



Of the nymph, so coy and cold, 



Who, with frightened feet, outran 



The pursuing steps of Pan." 



Over it lean down the alder boughs, tasselled thick with 

 young brown cones. There is silence everywhere, save 

 for the sighing of the sedge, the rush of the Roding 

 under its pollard willows hurrying past, and at times the 

 sonorous call of some heron unseen among the shadows 

 of the island. The rooks, whose still vacant dwellings 

 crowd the grey arms of yonder ash -tree, hold their own 

 on the very threshold of their powerful neighbours, and 

 in the fatal conflicts between black and grey, renewed 

 each season on the island, the vantage is by no means 

 always with the tenants of the heronry. 



Now on a creek that runs in among the bushes, a 

 wild-duck floats lazily along, a gleam of sunshine lighting 

 up the velvet of his glossy head. Another moment, and 

 he is ware of danger ; he quickens his pace, he vanishes 

 in the shadows by the shore. 



Far in among the trees, where the water is darkened 

 by grey willows hanging over, stands a heron silent 

 and motionless. Beyond him is another, and far on 

 another still. Next moment they are lost again, as we 

 pass their narrow entrance. 



Suddenly, from the shelter of the sedge, starts out a 



