io6 ON SURREY HILLS. 



great attraction to me was the flood-gate hole, with 

 its grey timbers and flooring of massive slabs. The 

 walls on one side were composed of stones built up 

 without any regularity, as was the fashion long ago, 

 just as they had come to hand. The mortar had 

 crumbled, leaving cracks where ferns and mosses of 

 many kinds had taken root and flourished — dipping 

 their fronds into the water, and swaying to and fro, 

 as little streams trickled from the sluice - gates. 

 There, too, were lichens — yellow, white, and grey. 

 Dragon-flies darted hither and thither over the pool, 

 ever ready to devour any insect that might come in 

 their way. Wasp, bee, or butterfly — no matter which 

 — makes portion of a meal for them. Even Lord 

 Hornet himself is not safe from their powerful jaws. 

 The spot is a famous one for perch ; they dearly 

 like old walls and timbers, for in them they find 

 two things necessary for their wellbeing — food and 

 shelter. There is a vast amount of insect life in 

 the cracks of those lichen-covered and moss-grown 

 walls, as well as water-snails that cling and cluster 

 upon the submerged stones. 



Even as we look over the old flood-gate rails, we 

 see a shadowy form rise up from below, and a fine 



