touch him at all.

After enlarging the loop I put the rod slowly forth again, worked the
wire up stream, slipped the noose over his tail, and gently got it up to
the balance of the fish. Waiting a moment to get the elbow over the end
of the rod so as to have a good leverage, I gave a sudden jerk upwards,
and felt the weight instantly. But the top of the rod struck the
overhanging bough, and there was my fish, hung indeed, but still in the
water near the surface. Nor could I throw it on the bank, because of the
elder bushes. So I shortened the rod, pulling it in towards me quickly
and dragging the jack through the water. The pliant wire had cut into
the scales and skin--he might have been safely left suspended over the
stream all day; but in the eagerness of the moment I was not satisfied
till I had him up on the mound.

We did not see much of Southlands, because the withy-beds were on the
lowest ground; but there were six jacks strung on a twisted withy when
we got back to the stunted oak and rested there tasting acid sorrel
leaves.

CHAPTER IV

EGG-TIME. A 'GIP'-TRAP

There is no sweeter time in the woods than just before the nesting
begins in earnest. Is it the rising sap that causes a pleasant odour to
emanate from every green thing? Idling along the hedgerows towards the
woodlands there may perchance be seen small tufts of white rabbit's fur
in the grass, torn from herself by the doe to form a warm lining to the
hole in which her litter will appear: a 'sign' this that often guides a
robber to her nest.

Yonder on the rising ground, towering even in their fall over the low
(lately cut) ash plantation, lie the giant limbs of the mighty oaks,
thrown just as they felt the quickening heat. The bark has been stripped
from the trunk and branches; the sun has turned the exposed surface to a
deep buff colour, which contrasts with the fresh green of the underwood
around and renders them visible afar.

When the oak first puts forth its buds the woods take a ruddy tint.
Gradually the background of green comes to the front, and the oak-apples
swell, streaked with rosy stains, whence their semblance to the edible
fruit of the orchard. All unconscious of the white or red cross daubed
on the rough bark, the tree prepares its glory of leaf, though doomed
the while by that sad mark to the axe.

Cutting away the bushes with his billhook, the woodman next swings the
cumbrous grub-axe, whose wide edge clears the