BY THE MILL-STREAM. 143 



chac ! With these exceptions, few birds are to be 

 seen by the trout-stream. 



We are now on the road, and stand looking up 

 the meadows ; all round there are woods and hills, 

 with farmhouses and cottages here and there, and 

 the old mill in the distance. These, with the green 

 meadows and the flashing trout-stream, make a pic- 

 ture you are not likely to forget ; it has been depicted 

 already by a well-known Royal Academician. 



As we walk up a shady lane a man comes out 

 from a copse through a gate ; it is our old acquaint- 

 ance, the keeper, a keen observer of all living 

 creatures. 



" I thought it was you in the meadow, somehow," 

 is the greeting. " Have you had a talk with the 

 miller ? " 



"Yes." 



" Did he say anything about them three artist 

 chaps ? " 



" Yes, a bit." 



" Did he tell you about the beehive ? " 



"No." 



" I will, then. I see him this morning; he said 

 somebody that I knowed was in the meadows. One 



