ion to its smell, that they hunt, seize, and bring it
back much against their will; and, difficult as it may be to account
for this antipathy, it seems to be as inherent in canine nature, as the
antipathy which all ladies show to contradiction is in the human.

Far removed from the strife that occasionally rages amidst the feathered
tribes of the forest, or the more formidable struggles of its
four-footed inhabitants, whose howls occasionally startle the silence of
night, and quite indifferent as to whether a fox or a wolf is seated on
the sylvan throne, the woodcock, like a true philosopher, in the depths
of the thicket, leads a calm and sedentary life, requiring no other
elements of happiness than moonlight, rest, and a few worms. Its tastes
are so humble, its wants so few; it mixes so little with the world, and
is so ignorant of all intrigue, that nothing can exceed its innocence.
Like those honest country-folks who can never manage to shake off their
native simplicity, its instinct never puts it on its guard against a
snare, and consequently it falls into the first that is set for it.

A complete stranger to the fierce emotions that excite the savage nature
of those animals that live constantly at war with one another, the
peaceful woodcock--the bird of twilight--is startled by the least noise,
and stunned by the slightest accident. Many a time, at dawn of day, when
lying in wait for the passage of a fox, a roebuck, or a wolf, have I
seen two, three, four, even five woodcocks slowly issue from their leafy
covert, and advance with measured step towards the open glade,
apparently without imagining that by leaving the shade of the trees they
were exposing themselves to being seen. On they walked, searching by the
way, plunging from time to time their long beaks into the grass, and
shaking their heads right and left to enlarge the hole, they breakfasted
luxuriously on the worms that crept out of it.

Concealed behind an oak-tree, I have sometimes been highly amused by
watching their motions, nor had I the least wish to disturb them, not
caring to rouse the echoes of the forest for such insignificant game. So
the woodcocks went on with their manoeuvres, holding down their heads,
with eyes intent upon the grass, evidently engrossed by their own
occupation. In this manner they unconsciously advanced close to me, when
suddenly rising from the ground I gave a loud shout, at which the
startled birds were so panic-struck that