The Confessions of a 'Poacher. 15 



bottom of the brook. The larvae of caddis 

 flies, which cover the edge of the stream, are 

 a curious mystery to him, and he sees the 

 kingfisher dart away as a bit of green light. 

 Small silvery trout, which rise in the pool, 

 tempt him to try for them with a crooked pin, 

 and even now with success. He hears the 

 cuckoos crying and calling as they fly from 

 tree to tree, and quite unexpectedly finds the 

 nest of a yellow-hammer, between a willow 

 and the bank, containing its curiouly speckled 

 eggs. 



Still the life, and the a hush," and the 

 breath go on. Everything breathes, and 

 moves, and has its being ; the things of the 

 day are the essence thereof. On the margin 

 of the wood are a few young pines, their deli- 

 cate plumes just touched with the loveliest 

 green. An odour of resinous gum is wafted 

 from them, and upon one of the slender sprays 

 a pair of diminutive goldcrests have hung their 

 procreant cradle. These things are enough to 

 win any young Bohemian to their ways, 

 and although as yet they only comprise " the 



