turf!"--and it seemed to
me, as these adieus were uttered, that icy breezes passed from every
tomb across my face, whispering in my ears, "Good night!" and that the
firs, the yews, the cypress bending across our path seemed to salute us
as we left the horrible precincts.

We soon regained the town, and on the road there I would not have turned
my head for a crown of rubies; Pere Seguin, meanwhile, coolly carrying
his box of worms, which I would not have touched for the best place in
Paradise.

The next morning, instead of fishing for barbel, I was unable to rise
from my bed; and for fifteen nights I never closed my eyes without
seeing in my dreams ghosts, and all the horrid details of the churchyard
and the charnel-house.

CHAPTER IX.

Passage of the woodcock in November--Their laziness--Night
travelling--Mode of snaring them at night--Numbers taken in this
way--This sport adapted rather for the poacher--The _braconnier_ of
Le Morvan--His mode of life--The poacher's dog--The double poacher.

The object of this chapter will be to give the reader some little
insight into the habits of the woodcock, and the mode of snaring them in
the forests of Le Morvan, during the month of November. At the close of
this month, Dame Nature's barometer, their instinct, far better than the
quicksilver, tells them the December rains are close at hand; and that
if they remain in their hiding-places in the low grounds, they will be
driven out by the approaching deluge. They at length make up their minds
to set forth on their travels. With a long-drawn sigh, therefore, the
woodcock bids farewell to the old oaks that have sheltered it all the
summer, and taking leave of its friendly comrades, the squirrels, it
sets out on the first fine night for a more genial climate, to the
delight, no doubt, of the neighbouring worms, who pop their heads out of
window to witness its departure; and the moment their enemy is fairly
out of sight, perform many a pirouette on the tip of their tails, and
dance upon the grass in honour of the joyous event.

If a woodcock was not a woodcock, that is, one of the laziest birds in
the creation, it might easily reach, in a few days' flight, the dry
heaths, the hills, and elevated regions, which it loves; but woodcocks
abhor all violent exercise, always preferring the use of their feet to
that of their wings, which latter they never agitate, except when
necessity requires. Well, they ha