232 FROM SPRING TO FALL. 



where we go, for we are out for the night, — if this 

 can be called night, when really there is but a short 

 interval of darkness, just before the dawn. How 

 quiet it all is ! Where some sweet - scented wild 

 tangle is blooming, more than once we have caught 

 the hum of hawk-moths' wings. Those who have 

 heard this sound in their earlier years never forget 

 it : first impressions are generally lasting ones. Up 

 we go ! — now we are on a sandy road ; after a time 

 we reach the heath, or we might say two large 

 heaths, separated only in their names. The white 

 tracks of silver sand show out like lines among 

 the short heather. At one time when I visited 

 it the heather was breast-high ; recent fires have 

 destroyed that ancient growth. It is thick enough, 

 however, to suit our purpose, so we stretch our- 

 selves on it, and as we rest we think of the past, 

 when Roman legions had a camp there, a station- 

 ary one ; also of a lost friend who explored there, 

 much to his own satisfaction, if not to that of other 

 people. The night-hawks, fern-owls, or heave-jars 

 sweep over us, and the bats almost touch us with 

 their leathery wings ; yet this we heed but little, 

 for we are busy thinking about other things in the 



