230 AMERICAN FISHES. 



which came down through the leafy gorges, in long, soft swells from 

 the open moorlands. 



" All nature was alive and joyous ; the air was vocal with the 

 piping melody of the blackbirds and thrushes, caroling in every brake 

 and bosky dingle ; the smooth, green lawn before the windows of the 

 old Hall was peopled with whole tribes of fat, lazy hares, limping about 

 among the dewy herbage, fearless, as it would seem, of man's aggres- 

 sion ; and to complete the picture, above a score of splendid peacocks 

 were strutting to and fro on the paved terraces, or perched upon the 

 carved stone balustrades, displaying their gorgeous plumage to the 

 early sunshine. 



" The shadowy mists of the first morning twilight had not been dis- 

 persed from the lower regions, and were suspended still in the middle 

 air in broad fleecy masses, though melting rapidly away in the increas- 

 ing warmth and brightness of the day. 



" And still a faint blue line hovered over the bed of the long rocky 

 gorge, which divided the chase from the open country, floating about 

 it like the steam of a seething caldron, and rising here and there into 

 tall smoke-like columns, probably where some steeper cataract of the 

 mountain-stream sent its foam skyward. 



" So early, indeed, was the hour, that had my tale been recited of 

 these degenerate days, there would have been no gentle eyes awake to 

 look upon the loveliness of new-awakened nature. 



" In the good days of old, however, when daylight was still deemed 

 to be the fitting time for labor and for pastime, and night the appointed 

 time for natural and healthful sleep, the dawn was wont to brighten 

 beheld by other eyes than those of clowns and milkmaids, and the gay 

 songs of the matutinal birds were listened to by ears that could appre- 

 ciate their untaught melodies. 



" And now, just as the stable clock was striking four, the great 

 oaken door of the old Hall was thrown open with a vigorous swing that 

 made it rattle on its hinges, and Jasper St. Aubyn came bounding out 

 into the fresh morning air, with a foot as elastic as that of the moun- 

 tain roe, singing a snatch of some quaint old ballad. 



" He was dressed simply in a close-fitting jacket and tight hose of 

 dark-green cloth, without any lace or embroidery, light boots of un- 

 tanned leather, and a broad-leafed hat, with a single eagle's feather 



