A WET AUTUMN. 177 



in this case, they surely ought to be forgiven. As 

 to the jackdaws, they yelp out Jack, jackup, jake, 

 jake, jack! and chatter in the most querulous 

 manner possible. 



The gale has passed over and the rooks have 

 reached their roosting - trees. The branches are 

 tossing about and creaking, for the wind is in 

 full force although the rush of the storm is over. 

 After much commotion, with endless caws, quawks, 

 and guttural mutterings, interspersed by irritable 

 Jacks, jacks, jacks ! they settle down, but not for 

 long. The "dims" are coming on; it is nearly 

 dusk, and another hurricane of wind, rain, and 

 sleet is coming up. In fact it has come already; 

 with a roar like that of the first, it is upon us and 

 the rookery as well. Crash goes a large limb from 

 one of the trees, up go the rooks and jackdaws in a 

 terrible uproar, to be blown away in the darkness of 

 the storm-clouds. 



Herons have, up to the present season, regularly 

 visited certain streams and pools which I know 

 well; and some never left them again, being shot 

 — not by me. This season they have not yet come 

 to their usual haunts, but this circumstance is 



M 



