NO MAN'S LAND. 183 



long wild trudge is yet before us. Turning our back 

 on the road, we strike by a narrow path into the heart 

 of that wild land, broken with hollows, thickets, and 

 old woods, in which are the homes of all wild things 

 that remain to us. There the badger and the fox 

 live their lives out in quiet. The whole of the weasel 

 family have their strongholds in and about these wild 

 uplands. I have good reason to believe, having in- 

 formation on the subject which I consider beyond 

 doubt, that the marten or marten-cat, which is supposed 

 to be extinct in our southern counties, could be found 

 here if searched for. Indeed I have been assured that 

 he has been found, and not long ago. " No one knows," 

 says one of my rustic friends, "what's livin' in them 

 'ere woods and copses but them as goes in 'em." 



Many years ago I knew these regions well. 

 Through long summer days and the whole of many 

 a night I have watched the life, furred and feathered, 

 that hid itself in this wooded wilderness. Falcons, 

 hawks, owls, crows, magpies, jays, shrikes, all have 

 their abiding-places here. There is a wild beauty 

 about it at each season of the year, and a certain fas- 

 cination in its very loneliness. In some parts not even 

 the tinkle of an occasional sheep-bell is to be heard. 



