DRIFT. 1 1 



Chipsey-wee-wee-wee ! A little bluetit settles on 

 the entrance to the master's beehive. Two taps 

 with his bill bring out a bee to see what is the 

 matter. He soon finds out. Chip ! and off Master 

 Bluehead goes. If a charge of shot did not stop 

 him he would thin the hive out. Presently out 

 comes a toad. 



" What do I kill 'em for ? " says the master. " Do 

 good, do they ? You'd say so if you kept bees ! 

 Artful ain't no name for their moves; they just 

 scrapes a hole with their paws, and lays there quiet 

 if anybody is about right in front of the hive, mind 

 you ! When all is still he just gets on them hind- 

 feet o' his and opens his mouth, and them there 

 bees go slap into it ! He can't help it ? I thinks, 

 master, you'd be very fond o' toads, you would, if 

 you kept bees ! " 



I have seen "Bee-snapping Gabriel," 1 as they 



1 "Bee-snapping Gabriel" is a very old local Surrey name for the 

 toad. The sounds which come from a mixed flight of white-fronted and 

 Bernicle geese, high up in the air, in stormy weather, which is like that 

 of a pack of hounds in full cry, is also called ' ' gabble retchet " ; and the 

 local idea is that the sound always forebodes death and misfortune. 

 "Gabriel's hounds ! " or "The hell-hounds are on the hunt ! " the old 

 crones mutter, as they cower over their cottage fires on wild, stormy 

 nights. 



