THE POND 171 



Cape bulbs with a fondness different to mine. They 

 build their nests in the rockeries, and have to be 

 destroyed. Frogs, toads, and newts all increase and 

 multiply here and are encouraged ; and once I saw 

 a large grass-snake apparently regarding a water-lily, 

 but he poured himself away, like a little stream of 

 amber and silver, among my marsh irises and never 

 appeared again. Dogs enter, though not by invita- 

 tion. The large dogs stroll round in a gentlemanly 

 way and work no harm; the smaller sorts do evil, 

 and tear and scratch and refuse to keep to the 

 paths. When discovered, they bark insolently to 

 hide their own uneasiness, and dash about over the 

 borders and lose their heads, and forget how they 

 got in. There is little use for a dog or a cat in 

 a garden, though a cat certainly occurs here. His 

 name is " Gaffer," and he is a brindled or tabbied 

 beast of courteous disposition but colourless character. 

 He does neither harm nor good. I have heard of him 

 that he once caught a young thrush, who was sitting 

 with his back turned waiting for his mother ; but 

 even that is in the nature of legend. 



We count the usual birds, but only a few have ever 

 called for any special admiration. A pair of missel- 

 thrushes, with very great judgment, built their nest in 

 a large araucaria imbricata. From this lofty point 

 they commanded the situation ; and to see them dash 

 out if any jay or jackdaw dared even to pass by, was 

 an amusing sight. With harsh invective they would 

 flash from their nest like brown arrows, and flicker 

 about the intruder and scream their indignation until 



