272 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



You are continually coming on spots of fairy-like 

 beauty in hollows among the heather-covered hills, 

 away from everything and everybody. Coming 

 home to my resting-place in one of the hollows, 

 I found a small lake, with a margin of the whitest 

 glistening sand all round it, then came green turf, 

 heather-sprinkled, and a belt of old firs surrounded 

 this. All above the hollow was purple with heather- 

 bloom. As I make it a rule never to approach 

 any place openly when I am on the look-out for 

 wild creatures, I cautiously peered about. It was a 

 charming picture, the old firs mirrored in the water, 

 the belt of sand round it, and the whole lit up by 

 the soft light of early evening. Nothing was to be 

 seen or heard from any living thing, and the very 

 stillness seemed to add to its beauty. Suddenly 

 from over the tops of the firs the peculiar whistle 

 sounded. A flash of black and white shot over the 

 water, and there stood the sandpiper on the sandy 

 margin, for a little time, a few minutes only The 

 bird ran quickly here and there, and then he shot 

 up and went over the firs in the same direction that 

 he had come from. When in the hand the upper 

 part of the plumage is greenish brown, speckled 



