AT THE ESTUARY 135 



deep pool of water. At first the eye can hardly dis- 

 tinguish anything in the water, and a dark or light 

 form may or may not be a fish. By degrees the 

 water yields to the eye its secrets, and what appeared 

 a fish is seen to be a weed or stick. More often, 

 perhaps, it is patience than power of sight that makes 

 out the inventory of the brook. Even for sky work, 

 with the unaided eye some men have been famous for 

 the worlds they have included. Herschell sighted 

 stars dark to most men searching on a clear night 

 with the naked eye. He had sight, it was thought, of 

 wonderful strength ; but may he not have seen his 

 extra worlds largely through patience and practice ? 

 The very strong eye often is a highly trained eye. 



But to watch the wary water and sea fowl, and the 

 smaller waders, glasses are needed. Half a mile away 

 the flocks of mallard and teal floating by the bar of 

 the estuary are scarcely more to the strongest eye than 

 a sprinkling of black dots. The dots are a little dis- 

 tincter and blacker when the flock dabbles at the 

 foamy edge of the sea; but even then the watcher 

 cannot make out the forms of the birds or recognise 

 the species through colour or mark. He brings a 

 powerful glass to bear upon them, and instantly the 

 flock floats a few yards from his feet. Then if the 

 sun comes out, the green of the mallard shines, and 

 the gloss, the beautiful smoothness, is seen at its 

 fairest. The smoothness of the water-fowl, "diving 

 duck," and others, is one of the most excellent things 



