302 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



age is so strong that you might easily fancy .turpentine 

 had been thrown down there. Leaving the firs and 

 the squirrels, we gain the top of this hill and travel 

 downwards for a long distance, coming out on a flat 

 extent of moorland bog. There is the bog for us to 

 cross, then the hills again with their scrubby heather 

 to climb, and then more fir-woods come. We find 

 that there is a stiff jump in the shape of a water- 

 course before we get on to the moor. This we clear 

 all right, then our work commences in real earnest. 

 To clear that bog without coming to grief is no easy 

 matter, water shining underfoot and around the 

 little bunches of bog-growth, perched on peat-hum- 

 mocks. When you step on these, they topple over 

 and break off, proving nothing but a snare and a 

 delusion. I probe and poke with my good ash staff 

 and then stand quite still and use my glasses, with- 

 out which no one who studies wild life should ever 

 stir out. What endless bother and trouble they save 

 one ! To the left we can see a line of white running 

 right over the bog, on one side of it, which we 

 cautiously make for. It proves to be a hard strip 

 of white sand running through the bog, and passable 

 when not overflowed by the water. We can see that 



