2O2 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



here the female brings forth her litter of four or 

 five when the land brightens with spring. 



And now let us look at a summer's night and 

 day from the otter's point of view. 



It is a deep, slow reach of river, running between 

 close-wooded banks, where the oak and ash are 

 seamed by the silvery birches, which look ghost- 

 like in the coming twilight. The fire of sunset has 

 departed, leaving but a sullen red in the clouds, 

 which hang low in the west. The gloaming steals 

 darkly over the river, and faint wreaths of mist 

 rise from the quiet bays. The brown owl flits 

 between the stems of the oaks, the water-hens 

 come nodding from the thickly-herbaged banks, 

 the trout rise with noisy splashes, and the circles 

 sail down the smooth stream and mingle with 

 others. 



" The day has ended, 

 The night has descended.'' 



How does the otter in his deep hole where day 

 and night it must be pitch-dark tell when the 

 day changes into night ? Yet, as the daylight 

 fades, he starts from his heavy sleep, and showing 

 his teeth as he yawns and a capital set of teeth 

 they are he imcoils himself from his bed of dried 

 leaves, and sets out on his evening stroll. As he 

 creeps through the marginal bushes, he comes 

 suddenly upon a water-hen, at which he makes a 

 playful snap, tearing out some of her wing feathers. 

 He leaps down upon a mud-bank, and finds himself 



