184 
EXTRACTS FROM HIS WORKS [oh. yii. 
twenty yards of us. Away she speeds, and in 
passing the pool again stoops, but recovers herself, 
and, rising in a beautiful curve, bounds over the 
plantation, and is out of sight .—British Birds , vol. 
iii., pp. 371, 372. 
16.—The Golden Plover. 
Many a time and oft, in the days of my youth, 
when the cares of life were few and the spirits 
expansile, and often, too, in later years, when I had 
made a temporary escape to the wilderness to 
breathe an atmosphere untainted by the effluvia of 
cities, and ponder in silence on the wonders of 
creative power, have I stood on the high moor and 
listened to the mellow notes of the plover, that 
seemed to come from the grey slopes of the neigh¬ 
bouring hills. Except the soft note of the ring- 
plover, I know none so pleasing from the grallatorial 
tribes. Amid the wild scenery of the rugged hills 
and sedgy valleys, it comes gently and soothingly 
on the ear, and you feel, without being altogether 
conscious of its power, that it soothes the troubled 
mind, as water cools the burning brow. How 
unlike the shriek of the heron—but why should we 
think of it, for it reminds us of the cracked and 
creaking voice of some village beldame of the Saxon 
race. The clear, gentle tones of the Celtic maiden 
could not be more pleasant to any one, or perhaps 
much more welcome to her lover, than the 
