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CHAPTER y. 



SHIKAR IN THE WURDWAN. 



23rd MAY. Ere thoroughly awakened this morning, I 

 enjoyed pleasing fancies in a confused doze, under the 

 influence of the soft notes of a cuckoo perched on a 

 tree immediately over my head, whence he sweetly 

 serenaded me, or rather treated me to a morning solo ; 

 which, though a monotonous performance, touched many 

 a sympathetic and vibrating chord within, creating 

 delicious harmonies, recalling old memories the open 

 window, dewy mornings, fresh summer-perfumed air, the 

 welcome ringing of old Jonas' sharpening scythe, which 

 operation has a remarkable charm for me, I suppose as 

 essentially characteristic of summer seasons, and asso- 

 ciated with the inhaled fragrance of new-mown hay, added 

 to many a mingled note of thrush, linnet, and blackbird 

 and other feathered songsters. 



Often, on such mornings, did the dear old man, 

 according to agreement, lightly cast up gravel at my 

 window to arouse me to be up and after my night-lines. 

 Oh, happy memories ! The scythe of time has now done 



F 2 



