840 NATURAL HISTORY READER. 



neither went through the passes nor turned against the 

 heaters, hut vanished as if by magic — nobody could tell 

 where ; and it was the common opinion of the drivers and 

 fishermen that, when forced near the river, they threw 

 themselves over the crags "for spite." The truth was that 

 those which disappeared dashed down the sudden dip of 

 the bank between the precipices, and, turning through the 

 ivy corridors, went out through the copse-galleries upon 

 the other side, and either descended to the water or skirt- 

 ed below the pass, and went back into the forest. 



4. In the same mysterious passages which gave conceal- 

 ment and escape to the stags and bucks the does were used 

 to lie with their fawns, and from thence at morning and 

 evening they brought them out to pluck the tender grass 

 upon the green banks beyond. Often from the brow above, 

 or from behind the ivy screen, we have watched their "red 

 garment " stealing through the boughs, followed by the lit- 

 tle pair drawing their slender legs daintily through the wet 

 dew, and turning their large velvet ears to catch every pass- 

 ing sound upon the breeze as it brought the hum of the 

 water, or the crow of the distant cock — now trotting be- 

 fore, now lingering behind their dam, now nestling together, 

 now starting off as the gale suddenly rustled the leaves 

 behind them — then listening and reuniting in a timorous 

 plump, pricking their ears and bobbing their little black 

 noses in the wind — then, as the doe dropped on her knees 

 in the moss, and laid her side on the warm spot where the 

 morning sun glanced in through the branches, they gam- 

 boled about her, leaping over her back, and running round 

 in little circles, uttering that soft, wild, plaintive cry like 

 the treble note of an accordion, till, weary of their sport, 

 they lay down at her side and slept while she watched as 

 only a mother can. 



5. No marvel it was that they loved that safe and fair 

 retreat, with all its songs and flowers, its plenty and repose. 



