DESERTED HOMES. 151 



faced ledges are stained white by the mutings of 

 the young and old hawks which have rested there 

 in order to sleep and digest their food. We shall 

 find their deserted home presently. My rustic 

 friend "Tommy" gave us such minute instructions 

 in his own woodland fashion, that, unless those two 

 ragged Scotch firs he spoke of have been cut or 

 blown down, we shall find the nest soon. From 

 some quite fresh castings that we see under the 

 ledges we know for a certainty that the hawks are 

 near. 



Twice only, during a course of thirty-two years' 

 acquaintance with our woodlanders, have I received 

 any written communication from a forester. Usually 

 information reaches me in this fashion — " Be you 



gain' to D this 'ere week, Waggle?" "Well, 



yes, I think on't." " Then if you runs up agin him, 

 just mention as he can come over. If ye don't run 

 up agin him, find some one on the quiet-like as 

 knows him, and can tell him to come." Many a 

 message have I had in this roundabout way. 



" I can't go with ye to look for that old spar- 

 hawk's nest," Tommy had said this time. "Me 

 and that 'ere new keeper what's come on ain't much 



