ng wolves will overtake him. In vain will he
turn and double: their unerring noses will find him out. In vain the
tunnels of the 'bury,' they will as surely come under ground as
above. At last, wearied, panting, frightened almost to death, the
timid creature will hide in a cul-de-sac, a hole that has no outlet,
burying its head in the sand. Then the tiny bloodhounds will steal
with swift, noiseless rush, and fasten upon the veins of the neck.
What a rattling the wings of the pigeons make as they rise out of
the trees in hot haste and alarm! As we pass a fir-copse we stoop
down and look along the ground under the foliage. The sharp
'needles' or leaves which fall will not decay, and they kill all
vegetation, so that there is no underwood or herbage to obstruct the
view. It is like looking into a vast cellar supported upon
innumerable slender columns. The pheasants run swiftly away
underneath.

High up the cones are ripening--those mysterious emblems sculptured
in the hands of the gods at Nineveh, perhaps typifying the secret of
life. More bracken. What a strong, tall fern! it is like a miniature
tree. So thick is the cover, a thousand archers might be hid in it
easily. In this wild solitude, utterly separated from civilization,
the whistle of an arrow would not surprise us--the shout of a savage
before he hurled his spear would seem natural, and in keeping. What
are those strange, clattering noises, like the sound of men fighting
with wooden 'backswords'? Now it is near--now afar off--a spreading
battle seems to be raging all round, but the combatants are out of
sight. But, gently--step lightly, and avoid placing the foot on dead
sticks, which break with a loud crack--softly peep round the trunk
of this noble oak, whose hard furrowed bark defends it like armour.

The red-deer! Two splendid stags are fighting--fighting for their
lady-love, the timid doe. They rush at each other with head down and
horns extended; the horns meet and rattle; they fence with them
skilfully. This was the cause of the noise. It is the tilting
season--these tournaments between the knights of the forest are
going on all around. There is just a trifle of danger in approaching
these combatants, but not much, just enough to make the forest still
more enticing; none whatever to those who use common caution. At the
noise of our footsteps away go the stags, their 'branching antlers'
seen high above the tall fern, bounding over the ground in a series