CHAPTER I. 
THE DIPPER, OR WATER OUZEL 
('Ginclus aquations ). 
“ He has no fellowship with waving woods,— 
He joins not in their merry minstrelsy,— 
But flits from ledge to ledge, and through the day 
Sings to the highland waterfall,—that speaks 
To him in strains he loves, and lists 
For ever.” 
N. T. Carrington. 
It is terribly cold : wood, field, and heath are all 
covered with snow; lakes and ponds coated with ice ; 
the wild mountain-torrent alone defies the icy fetters of 
winter, to which it is not yet entirely a slave; here and 
there open spots of rippling or foaming water are still to 
be seen; all around is desert and silent,—one can scarcely 
hear the light twitter of the Titmice and Goldcrests as they 
flit actively from tree to tree and branch to branch in 
search of food. All at once the wanderer will, if he 
follows the stream, hear a curious song, full in its 
character, and made up of low, creaking, twittering and 
clear whistling notes, intermingled with strophes sung 
alternately loud and soft, so that the entire song might 
almost be called a chatter: it is so bright and cheery, 
however, that one is glad to hear it, and feels a wish to 
become closer acquainted with the chatterer who can 
