moving the stones, having laid down his gun for that purpose, knowing that the otter was quite sure to make straight for the place where I was standing, if he could dislodge him. Presently the dog made a headlong dive into the snow and stones, but drew back as quickly with a sharp cry. In he went again, however, his blood now well up; but the otter's black head appeared at a different aperture, and now dog and man were dancing and tumbling about amongst the snow and stones like lunatics, the otter darting from place to place, and showing his face first in one corner and then in another.

"Donald found this would not do; so he again commenced moving the stones. Presently he called out to me, 'Keep private, sir! keep private the brute is coming your gate!' Private I had kept from the moment he had stationed me, till my fingers and feet were nearly frozen. Donald seized the dog and held him, to prevent his running in the way. All this passed in a moment, and I saw the snow heaving up above the otter, who was working through it like a mole; assisted, probably, by the heather, which prevented it from being caked down in a solid mass, as would have been the case on a smooth field. I knew that he would appear at the hole which we had stopped; and therefore I did not risk a shot at him.

"He worked on until he was close to the hole, when he emerged quietly and silently, and crept towards the well-known place of refuge. On finding it completely stopped up, the countenance of the poor animal assumed a most bewildered expression of astonishment and fear; and lifting himself up on his hind legs, he looked round to ascertain what had happened. On seeing me he made off towards the river, with as long leaps as the snow would allow him; and as it was tolerably hard, he got on pretty quickly till my charge of shot put an end to his journey.

"The report of the gun started two fine stags, who had been feeding along the course of a small open rill which ran into the river just above where we were; and I was astonished to see the power with which these two great animals galloped up the hill, although they sank deep at every stride. When half-way up, they halted to look at us, and stood beautifully defined on the white snow; they then trotted quietly off till we lost sight of them over the summit of the hill."

Our notice of this pleasant book cannot be better concluded than in the words of St. John's friend and biographer :

"I may be allowed to point out for imitation the extreme care and accuracy of his observations of nature-a rare merit-and his guarded and simple statements of the results. His taste for rural pleasures, his love of sport, and his natural unaffected style, will long endear his memory to naturalists."

The Memoir of Mr. St. John brings us acquainted with one of his correspondents of whom we should wish to see more. Sir A. G..Cumming, in describing a fishing adventure among the rocks of the Findhorn, shows a remarkable power of bringing a scene

before his reader's eyes, and making him understand and thoroughly to believe a piece of complex strategy practised against the gallant enemy. There is no attempt at picturesque description; no painting of the scenery, nor exaggerating of the danger and the prowess. The effect is produced by the simplicity of the language, leaving that conviction of truth which is one of the greatest and most uncommon triumphs of style.1

The pretty book we have named second at the head of this Article, was announced to be written "by a Highland gentleman, resident in Normandy." It is now known to be the work of the late Walter Campbell of Islay, a man of good family and high connexion, born to a great estate, for many years keeping up a great establishment and a generous hospitality in his western island-the most benevolent, liberal, popular of Highland landlords, the favourite of rich and At poor. length, falling on evil days, and at a time too when Highland destitution claimed exertions too great for even his fortune, he left his well-beloved home, and chose to live in a country where he could more easily lay aside the trappings of a high position. He went into exile, but he went unbroken in spirit. Active and intelligent, he found sport and objects of curiosity and interest on the beautiful coast of Normandy. Looking down from the height of Avranches over the Bay of Cancale, with the romantic island-fortress of Mont St. Michel in full view, with a long range of sands teeming with fish and molluscs, some good streams yielding trout and a few salmon, in the midst of an interesting race of sea-fishermen, not seamen, gradually forming acquaintance with the gentry of the district and of Bretagne--our Highland gentleman was in a good situation to comply with the suggestion of a friend, who recommended his writing notes on French fishing and natural history, including, most appropriately, French cookery, for even Izaak Walton knew how important a part of the history of a fish is the manner of dressing it.

We confess we wish the author had given these notes in his own person, or that his editor had bravely cut out the slender thread of dialogue between the shadowy "Mr. Hope" and "Mr. Cross" which cumbers the narrative, and deprives it of the vraisemblance and peculiar interest of a personal narrative, without adding the least bit of dramatic or picturesque effect. In spite of this defect of shape, however, and we cannot but respect the editor's motives for giving the work untouched as the author left it, we have in these two volumes a great deal of interesting and amusing matter; and though the scene is in 1 1 Natural History and Sport in Moray, Memoir, p. xxi.

Normandy, the book and its author are genuine English, and may help us to illustrate English country life.

We do not care much for the sensible conversations about the state of France and French politics, and we will ask our readers to jump at once to some nice observations on natural history. Hear the history of a kingfisher's nest, captured by an Eton boy :

"The first nest I ever saw was in the month of May. It was discovered quite by accident. Instead of fishing, I was swimming in the Thames, when I observed one of those beautiful little birds dart out of a hole close to me. I told two of my school-fellows of my discovery, so we provided ourselves with a landing-net, and next day we went to try and catch the bird as she flew out, but she escaped us then, for we saw her fly away when we were some yards distant from the bank. I suspect that they hear footsteps at a great distance when any one approaches their nest, and that they go at once, which is the reason they are so seldom perceived coming out of their holes. As I tell you, this lady escaped us that day, but as we were resolved to obtain her, one of my companions proposed that we should climb out of our dame's house at night, and at all risks make sure of our prize. Though such an expedition was a sort of high treason against the laws of Dr. Keats and Eton College, the temptation overcame all fears of birch. We agreed to go, and having provided a boat, a landing-net, and a spade, as soon as everybody was in bed we clambered over the garden paling, took our way to the river, got into our boat, and dropped gently down the stream till we came to the bank where the nest was. There the boat was softly pushed to the shore, and the bag of the landing net was fixed over the mouth of the hole. When this was completed we no longer cared about keeping silence; we landed, and began to dig away the bank from above. This work had not continued many minutes when we heard the harsh disagreeable notes of the mother, who had darted from her nest and was screaming in the net, in which she was fairly entangled. The poor bird was soon placed in one of our hats, over the top of which a handkerchief was tied, and she was then deposited in the locker of the skiff, which operation was performed by one of my companions, who got his fingers well bit before it was accomplished. The mother being thus secured, we resumed our digging, which took us so long that day was breaking before we arrived at the nest. We worked very carefully for fear of injuring it, and well worthy was it of our trouble, for when at last we reached it, we saw something that looked like the carved ivory balls that are sent from China. One side only was open, and within were three young birds, nearly full fledged. This prize was placed first in a pockethandkerchief, and then in a hat; the boat was rowed back to its hiding-place, and we took our way home across the fields, and reentered our dame's house without discovery; but we were so delighted with our success, that we were quite prepared to take a flogging without a murmur, had we been missed. The nest, in this instance,

was very curious and beautiful; when cleared from the sand that adhered to it, it looked brilliantly white, and on close examination, it proved to be made of myriads of small fish bones, glued together with a browner substance. It was nearly circular, having only one side open; the top, bottom, and sides, were all composed of the same substance; the inside was covered with some of the light sandy soil which surrounded it, and which adhered to the bottom; the outside was beautifully white, and looked, as I said before, like carved ivory or lace."

Our author tells us, and no doubt correctly, that the "carved ivory" of the king-fisher's nest is composed of the accumulated castings of the old birds during incubation.

Then pass on to the peculiar modes of fishing on the sands of the Norman coast, which bring the author acquainted with some gentlemen of the neighbourhood, whom we wish also to introduce to our readers :

:

"Those who knew provincial France some fourteen years ago," says the editor, "will recognise the country gentleman of old Norman and Breton type, who has so much in common with his Norse and British relations. They will know the warm, adventurous, hospitable, polite nature that still delights in love and war, danger and hardship; in riding, sailing, shooting, fishing, country life, good living, and good fellowship; and which in the olden time made vikings and gallant knights, hospitable chiefs, good soldiers and minstrels, of Norseman and Norman, Celt and Saxon."

If we could quite trust this friendly painter, or if much of France were such as he pictures Normandy and Bretagne, we should not have thought of contrasting English with Continental rurality. A party of gentlemen of the country, along with "Hope" and "Cross," go out to see the fishing; the French gentlemen dressed like their companions of a humbler rank, and working with their own hands and bodies, and with gay and light heart:

"I must have a look at your nets and see you start,' said Hope. "The Baron took his net from his shoulders, unwound it, and opened it to its full width. His elbows he placed against his sides, and grasped the poles about three feet from the upper end, sunk his hands. on a level with his hips, holding the net tightly stretched and open, while the upper end of the poles nearly met behind him. He was ready in a moment, and marched into the water, pushing his net before him, and keeping as close as he could to the heel of the projecting rocks. The Marquis and his companion also unwound their net, so that Hope saw it exactly as it had been described; each took a pole and advanced into the water, pushing the pole before them, and by leaning in opposite directions, keeping the net stretched to its utmost extent. Hope had kept his eye on the proceedings of the Marquis, and had not observed what the other two gentlemen were doing, but he now saw them trudging into the water in exactly the same manner

Fishing on the Sands.

17

as the Marquis and his friend, and was aware that there was no difference in the mode of proceeding. The Baron, with his single net, as we have already said, kept close to the heel of the rocks; the others kept farther out, the Marquis and his friend taking the outside, and in two minutes they were all toiling along up to their waists in the

water.

"Half a minute spent in walking brought them to the point, and when they had clambered up a steep ledge the view opened upon them. On this side, as on the other, they saw an immense expanse of wet shining sand; but here several masses of flat red-looking rocks broke the sameness of the view, and several hundred men, women, and children were seen, either wading in the distant blue water, or scattered over the rocks or on the sand. In the far west were the rocks of Chausey; and in front was another promontory, on which stood the town of Granville-the spire of the church, the barracks, and the houses in the old town forming a broken sky-line-while the masts of the ships in the harbour could be distinctly seen cutting against the houses in the lower part of the town. The sea was dotted with the white sails of many of the three-masted luggers which the fishermen of Granville use for trawling. The day was so bright and beautiful that even an uglier scene would have seemed fair; and now there was so much life and movement, that Hope would fain have paused to look and admire for a while a panorama that gave him so much pleasure.

666

'Very good,' said the Baron, examining his net; 'I have some famous ones; there is nothing like the single net when it is well handled.'

"Capital! Capital!' said the Marquis, who had shortened the net, and who was now looking into the bag which he carried in his hand. 'Bah! don't talk of your single net-look here!'

"And look here,' said the other couple, who were shaking the contents of their bag into the flat portion of the net.

"In each net there was a considerable quantity of prawns, shrimps, soles, and a few crabs. Many of the prawns were extremely large, and the shrimps were very fine. The crabs were rather larger than a man's fist; the soles were all small, none being larger than a man's hand, and many not half that size, but there were a great many of them.

"The best of the soles were selected and emptied into one basket, the crabs were put into another, and then the prawns and shrimps were thrown together into the other empty ones."

Here is another mode of fishing with longer nets, "anchored" on the sands within the tide range :

"I forgot to ask you what is the use of these little bundles of straw that the son had in his basket?'

6

"Sinks?' said Hope; 'straw for sinks! that is something new.' "I was wrong to call them sinks,' said Cross, for in fact they are a sort of anchors. There are string loops fixed at every yard along

VOL. XL.-NO. LXXIX.

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