78 The Amateur Poacher. 



recedes. The sound is often heard, but in the thick 

 foliage of summer the bird escapes unseen, unless you 

 are sitting almost under the tree when he arrives 

 in it. 



Then the rooks come drifting slowly to the 

 beeches : they are uncertain in their hour at this 

 season some, indeed, scarce care to return at all ; 

 and even when quite dusk and the faint stars of 

 summer rather show themselves than shine, twos and 

 threes come occasionally through the gloom. A pair 

 of doves pass swiftly, flying for the lower wood, where 

 the ashpoles grow. The grasshoppers sing in the grass, 

 and will continue till the dew descends. As the little 

 bats flutter swiftly to and fro just without the hedge, 

 the faint sound of their wings is audible as they turn : 

 their membranes are not so silent as feathers, and they 

 agitate them with extreme velocity. Beetles go by 

 with a loud hum, rising from those isolated bunches 

 of grass that may be seen in every field ; for the cows 

 will not eat the rank green blades that grow over and 

 hide dried dung. 



A large white spot, ill-defined and shapeless in 

 the distance and the dimness, glides along the edge 

 of the wood, then across in front before the fir plan- 

 tation, next down the hedge to the left, and presently 

 passes within two yards, going towards the wood 



