THE BITTERN. 149 



its own violence, and hissing as if the heat of her career and 

 collision were making the ocean to boil, as when the nether 

 fire upheaves a volcanic isle ; temper his spirit in those 

 waters for even one night, and when you again land him 

 safely, you will find him tenfold more a man of steel. 



A calm day in the wilderness is, of course, mildness itself 

 compared with such a night ; but still there is an absence 

 of art, and consequently a touch of the sublime of nature 

 in it ; it suits the feeble-minded, for it invigorates without fear. 



The dry height is silent, save the chirp of the grasshopper, 

 or the hum of some stray bee which the heat of the day has 

 tempted out, to see if there be any honeyed blooms among 

 the heath ; by and by, you hear the warning whistle of the 

 plover, sounded perhaps within a few yards of your feet, 

 but so singularly inward and ventriloque, that you fancy it 

 comes from miles off; the lapwing soon comes at the call, 

 playing and wailing around your head, and quits you not till 

 you are so near the marshy expanse that your footing is 

 heavy, and the ground quakes and vibrates under your feet. 

 That is not much to be heeded, if you keep the line of the 

 rushes, for a thick tuft of these sturdy plants makes a safe 

 foot-fall in any bog. You may now, perhaps, start the 

 twite, which will utter its peevish chirp, and jerk off; and 

 if there be a stream with banks of some consistency, you 

 may see the more lively wagtail, which will jerk and run, 

 and flirt about, as if showing off for your especial amuse- 

 ment. Should there be a wide portion of clear water, you 

 may perhaps see the wild duck with her young brood sailing 

 out from among the reeds, like a vessel of war leading the 

 fleet which she protects ; or if the pool is smaller, you may 

 see the brown and yellow of the snipe gliding through the 

 herbage on the margin, as if it were a snake in the grass. 

 Not a wing will stir, however, or a creature take much heed 

 of your presence, after the lapwing wails her farewell. 



