THE MARITIME DISTRICT 249 



objects look dim and distant even wlien close by, 

 I have rambled all day long without any sense of 

 depression or weariness ; and that when, hungry 

 and thirsty, I have sought refreshment at one of the 

 little village inns, and have found only stale bread 

 without any cheese to eat, and nothing but four ale 

 to drink — ale at fourpence a quart — I have eaten 

 the bread and drunk the beer (a tankard, not a quart 

 of it), and have gone forth comforted and happy to 

 resume my wanderings. 



There is one thing to make a lover of bird-music 

 happy in the darkest weather in January in this 

 maritime district. Mid-winter is the season of the 

 missel-thrush. The song-thrush has been heard since 

 the end of November, but he is not the true winter 

 singer. He is heard often enough — a bird here and 

 a bird there — when the sun shines, and in cloudy 

 or in wet weather too, if it be mild. But when it 

 is too gloomy for even his fine temper, when there 

 is no gleam of light anywhere and no change in that 

 darkness of immense ever-moving cloud above; and 

 the south-west raves all day and all night, and day 

 after day, then the storm-cock sings his loudest from 

 a tree-top and has no rival. A glorious bird ! 



He breeds earher than most birds, and we have 

 seen that after that labour is ended he repairs to 

 the downs and leads a gipsy existence in bands of 

 a dozen or so, feeding on snails and grasshoppers, 

 drinking at the dew ponds, and resting at noon in 



