PREFACE. 



T)ORN on the banks of a lovely and a crystal 

 -*-* stream, where the happy days of childhood 

 passed serenely away in listening to its mur- 

 murs and gathering wild flowers on its banks, 

 the waters, and all their varied tenants, have 

 ever since had for me peculiar charms. In 

 opening days of early spring, while the daisy 

 scarce yet unfolds its modest petals to the sun, I 

 used to listen with longing ears for the first 

 "peep" of the merry sandpiper, as he skips along 

 the gravelly margin of the stream, or skims its 

 glassy pools; or watch intently for the simple 

 ditty and eccentric vagaries of the water-crow, 

 as it flits from stone to stone now jerking 

 out a few discordant notes, anon diving 

 headlong into some pebbly shallow, like a 

 lilliputian suicide, to gather its crustaceous 

 food. Even the grave heron, perched on a dead 



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