66 BY MEADOW AND STREAM. 



Debarred as I am, poor wretch, from the country 

 rambles I so much desire, I will take a ramble through 

 old books, and pick out such jottings as may not be 

 uninteresting to some, at least, of your readers. Some 

 others there may be who despise all reference to any- 

 thing on earth but tackle, flies, ground-bait, how to 

 make snares, and how to cook and eat the snared. 

 There is one enthusiastic angler whom I know who, 

 intent as a heron fishing in the water-meadow, would 

 not be diverted from the nibbling of a roach and the 

 wobbling of his float even if an eagle flew over his 

 head with a screaming baby in his clutches. 



Here is a bit about wood ants doubtless many of 

 your readers have at this time of year noticed these 

 wood ants beginning to run across the path. "The 

 nest of the wood ant looks like a large heap of litter, 

 where dead leaves and short withered grass have been 

 thrown lightly down upon the earth ; perhaps at the 

 moment there is no sign of life about it beyond a 

 straggler or two at the base of the mound. Thrust in 

 the point of your stick, and all the ground will be 

 alive in a moment ; nothing but a mass of moving 

 ants will be seen where you have probed ; nor will it 

 do to stay too long, for they will be under your 

 trousers and up your boots, and you will soon feel as 

 if scores of redhot needles were run into you, for they 

 wound sharply. If you want the clean skeleton of a 

 mouse, bird, or any other small animal, throw it on 

 the nest of the wood ant, and on the following day 

 you will find every bone as bare as if it had been 

 scraped." 



The foregoing swarm of ants reminds me of a small 



