i TO The Amateur Poacher. 



flew away in their peculiarly scattered manner their 

 flocks, though proceeding in the same direction, seem- 

 ing all loose and disordered. Where the ploughs had 

 been at work already the deep furrows were full of 

 elm leaves, wafted as they fell from the trees in such 

 quantities as to make the groove left by the share 

 level with the ridges. A flock of lapwings were on the 

 clods in an adjacent field, near enough to be seen, but 

 far beyond gunshot. There might perhaps have been 

 fifty birds, all facing one way and all perfectly motion- 

 less. They were, in fact, watching us intently, although 

 not apparently looking towards us : they act so much 

 in concert as to seem drilled. So soon as the possi- 

 bility of danger had gone by each would begin to 

 feed, moving ahead. 



The path then passed through the little meadows 

 that joined the wood : and the sunlight glistened on 

 the dew, or rather on the hoar frost that had melted 

 and clung in heavy drops to the grass. Here one 

 flashed emerald ; there ruby ; another a pure brilliance 

 like a diamond. Under foot by the stiles the fallen 

 acorns crunched as they split into halves beneath the 

 sudden pressure. 



The leaves still left on the sycamores were marked 

 with large black spots : the horse-chestnuts were quite 

 bare ; and already the tips of the branches carried the 



