THE DIPPER 87 



to my surprise and delight, I have caught a 

 glimpse of what, for want of a better phrase, 

 might be termed the humanity of Nature, I have 

 not merely imagined, but have felt sure, that 

 many of the finest feelings of man pity, 

 sympathy, devotion, unselfish comradeship- 

 are shared in no small measure by creatures 

 considered to be far beneath our plane of life. 



Directly his gift had been received, the dipper 

 waded out, dived with a flourish and a splash into 

 the deep water past the stickles, rose quickly a 

 little way down-stream, swam to the bank, ran 

 up the gravel, and flew to a large, round pebble 

 well within the shelter of an alder. He shook the 

 drops of moisture from his wings, dipped once 

 or twice as if to satisfy himself that the stone 

 afforded a sure foothold, then, turning so as to face 

 the brook, poured forth a low, sweet, bubbling 

 song, full of joy, and love, and the hope of spring 

 and sunny weather. Having ended his carol, he 

 flew up-stream in the direction of the gorge ; and 

 as his last chit-chit reached my ears from the 

 corner of the meadow beyond the wood his mate 

 departed in pursuit. 



I have seldom found a dipper far from his 

 favourite haunt by leat and rivulet. If he has 

 chosen the source of the river among the moun- 

 tains for his nesting site, he quits this bleak 

 spofc during the winter frost and snows for the 



