224 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



however, for he knows that he, with others, will 

 have to hunt hard and to little purpose before 

 long. 



" Chack-chack ! " muttered out overhead, tells us 

 that fieldfares are near. There they go, a flock ol 

 them, to roost on the ground in the " forey " grass, 

 like larks. A few redwings detach themselves from 

 the company, and with feeble clucks make for some 

 plashy hollows that are wooded and well sheltered, 

 there to find food with the woodcocks that frequent 

 the same locality. 



" Peewit, weet, weet peewit ! " Here come the 

 green plovers from the large open fields of the up- 

 land farms. They wheel and flap, and twist and 

 wheel again. We think that they have decided at 

 last to go, but we are mistaken. They make once 

 more for the fields they had left, settle, run about, 

 and then rise, calling most mournfully, as they pass 

 over us, a flapping company of black-and-white, 

 making for the sheltered coombe, close to the old 

 farm where they have had their haunts and homes 

 "from beyon' recknin'." 



The wind sinks as we reach the foot of the up- 

 land ; flakes of snow come on us : more fall, and 



