AMONG THE HILLS. 47 



his laugh does not do him good, for it sometimes 

 costs him his life. He is a splendid fellow — if he 

 is not stuffed. 



Clearing the woods, a strip of moorland has to 

 be crossed ; and about the edge of the belt of wood- 

 land, woodcocks sometimes nest. Well do I re- 

 member one nest where Mrs Woodcock hatched 

 out all right ; and she used to lead her little chicks 

 from the wood on to the moor to feed. I told a 

 person once that a woodcock and her young had 

 been running about close to me. He smiled, a wise 

 benevolent smile, and said nothing. It was quite 

 enough, — I dislike benevolent smiles much. To 

 settle his unbelief, I could have placed the mother 

 and family in his hands if I had thought fit, but not 

 for twenty pounds would I have done it. 



The moor dips down from here to the main road 

 — the road, in fact, cuts it in two parts — and then 

 the woods begin again. There are hills, valleys, 

 moors, and scrub growth. The hills are full of 

 water, and the moors act like a sponge to run it 

 off. Some of the moorland has been cleared from 

 heather, and turned into rough field land, bearing 

 a crop of coarse grass and rushes. In one of these 



