262 Poachers and Poaching. 



upon being his mother's grave. The graveyard 

 which contained it lay hard by one of the great 

 arteries of life, and the roar of its myriad sounds 

 was absent neither night nor day. A myriad 

 graves were matted and massed together a 

 dank, unlovely sight, and one which invested 

 death only with its worst and darkest attributes. 



As late winter passed into spring, Gough took 

 up his abode with the family of a northern 

 yeoman in a Westmorland cottage. The ma- 

 jesty of the mountains on this first spring day 

 deeply impressed the city-bred man, and his 

 solitary life among the hills was begun with much 

 heartfelt meditation. The mighty Helvellyn stood 

 out boldly, its crest sharply etched against the 

 sky. Even in this remote spot the wanderer 

 wished to withdraw himself for a time wholly 

 from the eyes of men ; and as he gazed upon the 

 passionless peak he thought that there he should 

 be alone there find solitude. As the short 

 afternoon fell he started to make the rugged 

 ascent. Every shoulder of the mountain gained 

 put him farther beyond human aid, and each 

 look at the peaceful valley below was nearer his 

 last. Still he progressed. The keen air, the 

 first deep inspiration of a purer joy these lured 

 him on. The face of the sky changed, but he 

 saw it not. Its little lot of stars came out over 

 the mountain, and, oblivious of the fact that night 

 was at hand, he hurried on. The crescent moon 



