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 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
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 / 4 
 
 ON SURREY HILLS 

 
 . . . "lay aside grave themes, and idly turn 
 The leaves of memory's sketch-book, dreaming o'er 
 Old summer pictures of the quiet hills, 
 And human life as quiet, at their feet."
 
 ON SURREY HILLS 
 
 BY 
 
 A SON OF THE MARSHES 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM,' 
 ' ANNALS OF A FISHING VILLAGE,' ETC. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCXCI 
 
 C/ ~* J ^// Rights reserved
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE volumes ' Woodland, Moor, and Stream ' 
 and the ' Annals of a Fishing Village,' edited 
 by me from the Notes of " A Son of the 
 Marshes," have met with so satisfactory a 
 recognition of their merits, that both author 
 and editor are encouraged to venture upon 
 another series of sketches. The "Son of the 
 Marshes" has now established for himself the 
 reputation of a keen and enthusiastic student 
 of bird, animal, and fish life in the woodlands, 
 glades, and streams of our southern counties ; 
 and it has been the aim of the editor in 
 revising his MSS. to preserve that deep sym- 
 
 640483
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 pathy with and reverence for Nature which are 
 the colouring characteristics of his writing. 
 
 Most of these chapters have appeared in 
 ' Blackwood's Magazine,' and a few have not 
 been in print before. I am indebted to the 
 courtesy of the Editor of the ' Daily News ' 
 which allows me to include the description 
 of a forest -fire that was witnessed by the 
 author. Without this, it seemed to me these 
 vivid descriptions of wild life on Surrey Hills 
 would have been incomplete. 
 
 J. A. OWEN.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. A ROADSIDE NATURALIST, . . I 
 
 II. AMONG THE HILLS, ... -32 
 
 III. FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS, . . 7 1 
 
 IV. A SURREY RIVER, . . . . . IOO 
 V. WAYS AND WHIMS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES, . 148 
 
 VI. NO MAN'S LAND, . . . . -175 
 
 VII. A FOREST-FIRE, ..... 222 
 
 VIII. MORE FISHING NOTES, . . . 232 
 
 IX. WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER, . . . 257 
 
 X. WILD LIFE IN WINTER, .... 282
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 
 
 ENGLAND has been described by many a foreign 
 visitor as the country par excellence of good roads 
 and hedges, green turf and fruitful fields. Woods, 
 moorlands, and heaths afford shelter to our wild 
 creatures, and in some instances yield food also ; 
 but the great bulk of animal and bird life' lives and 
 multiplies by the roadsides, or close to them. Some 
 of the walks to my work have taken me over roads 
 with never a house for two long miles and more 
 roads protected on either side by high hedges that 
 no rustic living could tell the age of, overgrown with 
 grey moss and lichens, and having a broad stripe of
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 coarse turf on both sides, along which grew hawk- 
 weed, vetches, thistles higher than myself, bryony, 
 both white and black, and trailing brambles. Great 
 clumps of rushes showed in all directions. Beyond 
 the hedges fields extended, broken by copse-growth 
 and woods. At certain seasons, when the weather 
 has been rough, these long stretches of road some 
 portions of it under water were almost as much as 
 one could put up with. 
 
 I can assure those townsfolk who send forth a cry 
 that wild nature and scenery are becoming difficult 
 to find, that any amount of both still exists, within 
 a short railway ride from London. I could show 
 them localities where they might, without the least 
 trouble on their part, get lost in a perfect network 
 of byroads, unknown to the general public. Once 
 these were the regular beaten tracks leading from 
 one lonely hamlet to another. The turf covers 
 portions of them now ; but they are still easily distin- 
 guishable, and travellers on foot make use of them at 
 rare intervals. On either side of many of these, banks, 
 topped with remains of ancient thorn and plum trees, 
 mark their course ; and such byroads are favourite 
 feeding-haunts and playing-grounds for the creatures.
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 
 
 Our wild animals proper such, at least, as show 
 themselves under ordinary circumstances are limited 
 in number. It is of little use to look out for any 
 particular creature, in order to note some peculiar 
 action connected with its natural economy, if the 
 bird or animal in question is at all uncommon. As 
 a rule, you will have to be patient, and to trust to 
 the course of events. You may have no opportunity 
 of noting the desired habit for a year or even longer, 
 but at some unsuspected moment that very action 
 or movement will be exhibited, and your patience 
 will be rewarded. It may be some way peculiar 
 to itself of procuring its food, or the creature will 
 perhaps come and play with its young at your feet. 
 I have frequently lighted on wild things unex- 
 pectedly, and have made the most of the glimpse, 
 for it is a sight of short duration. You may crouch, 
 or lie down, or crawl on all-fours, moving as noise- 
 lessly as a snake no matter how cautious you may 
 be, something will tell that man is near, and the 
 pleasing sight will be gone in a moment. For four- 
 teen years I have been vainly trying to see one of 
 our wild animals in the act of guarding its young 
 in a time of danger. From early morning until late
 
 ON SURREY HILLS, 
 
 in the evening, during times of leisure, I have 
 tramped over lonely places day after day, ay, and 
 week after week, in the right season, with only that 
 one object in view, and I have never seen it yet. 
 Some have been more fortunate, but it has been 
 when they were neither expecting nor searching for 
 it. It is the very uncertainty, I take it, that gives 
 such a charm to the quest. 
 
 The general public know the fox as a very cunning 
 animal that lives in the woods, and is hunted in the 
 season. He certainly ranges the woods, but he will, 
 if he is allowed to do so, make his home close to a 
 roadside. A very practical roadside naturalist is 
 Reynard, and he is intimately acquainted with the 
 ways and means of living of all the creatures he 
 preys on that frequent roads, whether they be green 
 roads or rides, or the turnpike roads. On or from 
 the highroads I have had my very best views of 
 himself. Men go, many of them, far, in search of 
 what they never find, whilst it is all the time lying 
 close to their doors. 
 
 In Surrey, Sussex, and also in parts of Kent, the 
 roads run through dry banks covered with the brush 
 tangle peculiar to such localities. Here rabbits
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 
 
 burrow in the sand, or sandy loam, of which they are 
 composed. Now, though hares, rabbits, pheasants, and 
 partridges like cover to a certain extent, they do not 
 like it when it is wet. So, directly the sun has dried 
 up the roads, out they slip from the covers under the 
 park-land palings, and on to the roads the hares to 
 dot up and down, flecking the sand off their hind- 
 feet in order to dry them, and the pheasants and 
 partridges to sun themselves, and to scuffle in the 
 dry sand under the overhanging banks. 
 
 Reynard knows all about this, and he will hide 
 himself in a patch of fern or broom, and there remain 
 until a chance of capture offers. If Kitty Wren or 
 a chaffinch or a tit does not see him he will be all 
 right ; but if one or the other marks him, the alarm- 
 note is sounded, and this acts like magic, for from 
 all quarters rush birds that have been before in- 
 visible at least they have not been seen before on 
 the banks. Jays, missel-thrushes, blackbirds, com- 
 mon thrushes, and the finches, all make common 
 cause against the fox. Even the shrikes leave off 
 beetle-hunting and chatter their loudest, with bowed 
 heads and upflirted tails, making common cause 
 with the finches. Directly the row is over they
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 would not have the least objection to kill and eat 
 these if they could only get the chance. The upshot 
 of it all is that it gets too warm for Reynard's com- 
 fort, and he makes tracks for a quieter neighbour- 
 hood. If he takes across the park-lands, all the 
 rooks that are feeding there will follow and buffet 
 him until he reaches cover. It is not always like 
 this, however. He hides himself so cunningly, as 
 a rule, that all prospers with his manoeuvres. For 
 one thing, he takes the greatest care to prevent the 
 wind from blowing his peculiar odour in the direction 
 of the creatures he is bent on capturing. 
 
 The hare may have dried his long hind -feet, so 
 beautifully clothed with hair, to his complete satis- 
 faction, and he thinks he will now devote a little time 
 to his ears, face, and coat in general. For this pur- 
 pose he brings his handy fore -feet into use, with 
 which he also boxes to perfection, when he has any 
 slight difference to settle with a rival. It is a most 
 interesting and amusing sight to see a hare perform 
 his toilet. First the long ears are adroitly man- 
 ipulated, then the face, and those most important 
 features of use and adornment, the whiskers, the 
 sensitive tips of which tell him to a nicety whether
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 
 
 the hole in the hedge or the break in the park- 
 palings is wide enough for his body to pass through, 
 let the night be ever so dark and gloomy. There 
 he sits, upright, without thought of danger, on his 
 powerful hind-quarters, busily washing his face. He 
 has almost finished his toilet, and is just giving the 
 last gentle strokings to his whiskers, when, with a 
 bound and a rush, something crosses over to him. 
 There is a momentary scuffle, and a whirl of sand, 
 then one long shriek of Aunt ! Aunt ! and all is over, 
 far more quickly than one can write about it. Rey- 
 nard carries his quarry up the opposite bank, and 
 into cover, with as much ease and in the same fash- 
 ion that the retriever chained to his kennel at the 
 keeper's cottage close at hand would carry a rabbit. 
 I have often seen his earth with the tokens of what 
 he has taken scattered about, but I have not often 
 seen him there. When the cubs begin to eat flesh, 
 one may have a chance of seeing them really at 
 home. 
 
 So far as the sagacity of the fox is concerned, it 
 has been overrated. There exist in the popular 
 mind two very distinct ideas of the fox, the one of 
 verse and tradition Master Reynard and Reineke
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 Fuchs which as naturalists we rriay as well have 
 done with for good and all ; the other the actual fox, 
 fortunately the only representative of the wild dog 
 existent in England. That he is clever we must 
 own ; impudent and daring we know him to be ; 
 but these latter qualities have been developed by the 
 protection that has been given him for generations. 
 I make this statement fearlessly, having verified it 
 by long observation. I lay no claim to be a scientist, 
 being simply a workman, one of the rank and file ; 
 none, however, has better opportunities for getting 
 at the real facts than a working man who happens 
 to have natural history on the brain. The fox is 
 frequently outwitted to his cost, a proof that he is 
 not so clever as he is popularly supposed to be. 
 
 I will give one illustration of his manoeuvring well 
 known to myself in a locality where hares were 
 numerous. No hare, not even when life is at stake, 
 will go through an opening which has been defiled 
 by the passage of a fox. When the latter has 
 designs on the hare, he will pass through the crea- 
 ture's mews. One hare-preserve familiar to me was 
 bounded towards the road by a high steep bank, 
 topped by a four -feet fence. There were several
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 
 
 exits for the hares in the line of fencing, but Reynard 
 had cunningly befouled the lot. Then he set to 
 work, singled out a hare, and chased him like a 
 greyhound. Mad with fear, the hare took the fence, 
 clearing it like any steeplechaser, and came down 
 smash into the road below, being completely stunned 
 for the time by his impetuous leap. Through the 
 hare's mews at the foot of the fence slipped the fox, 
 showing his tusks in pleasant anticipation of a nice 
 meal easily procured. His schemes, however, on 
 that particular morning were curiously frustrated ; 
 for as puss in her leap hurtled past the head of a 
 certain workman early on his way, getting stunned 
 in her fall on the road, she was picked up, with the 
 remark that if he allowed her to lie there some cart 
 might run over her. The look on that fox's face as 
 he stood in view on the bank-top, before he sneaked 
 off, was a sight to see. 
 
 When Reynard dashes into a covey of partridges 
 dusting themselves by the roadside, he uses his fore- 
 paws with cat-like dexterity, cuffing the birds down. 
 I have known him bury what he could not eat at the 
 time of capture close to the well-frequented carriage- 
 drive of a gentleman's house, and have watched him
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 as he went there for it and played with it like a 
 kitten, tossing it up and cuffing it from side to side 
 before eating it. The vixen littered and brought up 
 her cubs on that same carriage -drive close to the 
 mansion. The fact of her being there was known 
 only to two people, and they kept the knowledge to 
 themselves. 
 
 My own personal acquaintance with the fox has 
 always been in connection with farms, and the high- 
 roads running close to them. That a fox and vixen 
 could make their earth close to a farmyard gate, 
 bring up their cubs and play with them there, so that 
 any passers-by on the road could see them, sounds 
 improbable. But I can myself vouch for this fact. 
 He is a protected animal, to what extent those only 
 know who are affected to their loss by his living near 
 them. 
 
 A keeper who had been discharged for some im- 
 puted blame, where a fox was concerned, once said 
 to me : "If you lets 'em get into mischief you hears 
 somethin' middlin' stiff; an' if they cums more 'an 
 once to the covers and don't find a fox, you soon 
 gits the billet. I've known 'em turned out of a bag 
 afore now : they'd got 'em from Leadenhatl Market,
 
 A ROADSIDE 
 
 '.. '. . "'.'. .<'; _-..'. '.'. '.:-..'-. '.. "-"'.... '-':" '.:.': : I ". : :"\ 
 
 b^med 'em & to smtiaar own stosSL The dogs 
 v,-.. : :-.-.:. :.-.-. *.':':. L: ; ',:: . - \. :> L:'.': :"--:;. i 
 got precaous fittfe way. Ye see they be strange, and 
 don't know where to nm to. But ifsaffl right if they 
 finds and kills a fox.* 
 
 Foxes are the canse of nwwe trouble and IH4eefing 
 amongst keepers than all the rcstofffee wnmn pot 
 together. Almost any offence is overlooked more 
 readily than the killing of a fox. 
 
 Poaecats, stoats, and weasels aH live and bunt in 
 old hedges bordered by waste grounds, dose to the 
 highroads. I have known all three species to be 
 procured from one old hedgerow. In some localities 
 where I have lived, the powerful and femccaons pole- 
 cat was so common that his name was constantly 
 used to express all that was bad. The nearer he 
 could establish himself to a house the better it snited 
 him ; and he had the very worst reputation on ac- 
 count of the harm he did to poultry. 
 
 Rabbits, rats, mice, frogs, and birds all live and 
 roost or rest in hedges. The bottom of any good 
 old hedge parting two fields is a perfect fortress for 
 the creatures. Strange to say, the hunt will be
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 started in the hedge, but the kill will almost invari- 
 ably take place in the middle of the road. " A fair 
 field and no favour " is their motto. The mouse, rat, 
 or rabbit, as soon as it is startled, quits the hedge- 
 bottom, and makes tracks for the open. If the 
 quarry be a rat or a mouse, it is dragged back to the 
 cover of the hedge again, as is the case, too, if it be 
 a young rabbit ; but a full-grown rabbit will be left 
 lying in the road where his enemy has killed him 
 and sucked his blood, for the first passer-by to pick 
 up and take home. These animals killed by the 
 stoats or the polecats are fully appreciated by the 
 country folks who find them. For perfect impudence 
 what creature can surpass the little weasel, as he 
 stands in the middle of the road and takes stock of 
 you with a mouse in his mouth ? As to the stoat, he 
 will, if the farmer permit, make his home in an old 
 fagot-stack, and there bring up his family of stoat 
 kittens, most carefully provided for by mother stoat 
 and himself with stolen delicacies the lot frisking 
 about in a most barefaced manner, like a pack of 
 harlequins. The numbers of rats, mice, and frogs 
 disposed of in the course of a single year must be 
 great indeed. But when the kittens begin to eat
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 13 
 
 flesh freely, young chicks and ducklings are a temp- 
 tation not to be resisted. They will fetch, carry, and 
 hoard until not one will be left to the farmer's wife 
 unless the thieves are killed off. 
 
 Rats and mice claim the hedgerows and the roads ; 
 they have their summer and their winter quarters. 
 In tramping along the highways, I have watched and 
 noted all the members of the family, from the com- 
 mon brown rat down to the black water-vole and the 
 two species of water-shrews. Squirrels also and dor- 
 mice on and about our country roads are plentiful 
 enough. Even the timid mole is a common object 
 there at times. He will leave his hillock -heaving, 
 and come running about in front of one in broad 
 daylight. Folks call him the blind mole ; but let 
 your fingers get near his snout, and then tell us what 
 you think of his blindness. A most ferocious little 
 fellow he is, and he rights with all the determination 
 of a bull-terrier. I have undergone a considerable 
 amount of biting in my roadside pursuit of natural 
 history. The bite of a wild rabbit is like being cut 
 with a chisel ; the bite of a squirrel, too, requires a 
 good deal of fortitude in bearing it patiently. No 
 one I have ever known bitten by a squirrel but
 
 i 4 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 gave that small animal a pretty wide berth for the 
 future. 
 
 If man will only allow the wild creatures to draw 
 near to him, and to the roads that lead to his places, 
 they will all do so, no matter what their nature may 
 be. Just out of gunshot of almost any country house 
 or cot, whether it stand in cultivated land or midst 
 rough, rushy, woodland meadow, you may study the 
 animal life that enlivens and adorns the landscape. 
 From a little gravelly pool beside a well-frequented 
 road I have started that most shy wader, the green 
 sandpiper, and that in the very heart of our Surrey 
 woodlands. I fancied that it might have nested 
 somewhere near for this beautiful bird, though a 
 wader, lays its eggs in the deserted nests built by 
 other birds high up in the trees. 
 
 The hedgehog runs the roads freely. He is a 
 quaint little fellow, our hedge-pig, having far more 
 intelligence than people give him credit for. It is 
 curious, as you stand perfectly still in the middle of 
 a road, to see him come running along, then stopping 
 to sniff and whine and examine the high strange 
 object that hardly breathes lest he startle the little 
 creature. Then with a gentle grunt he will pass you
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 15 
 
 by. A very low yet quite decided grunt he gives, 
 and he whines as well. Shakespeare, who seems to 
 have been a most excellent out-of-doors naturalist 
 a minute observer of life, indeed, in all shapes 
 noticed the hedgehog, and wrote, "The hedgehog 
 whines at night." If any one of our readers pos- 
 sesses a tame hedgehog, let him examine the eye of 
 the creature if he has not already done so. If the 
 eye is the index to the mind, as I firmly believe it to 
 be, the hedgehog knows a great deal, and only uses 
 his knowledge for his own special benefit. 
 
 Leaving the animal department of our roadside 
 observations, we will pass on to the birds, considering 
 first the day-flying raptores, or birds of prey. All 
 those that are left to us keep in close touch with 
 man so much so, that they have suffered a woful 
 thinning down at his hands. Yet they still visit his 
 stack and poultry yards in search of quarry of one 
 sort or another, taking it into the middle of one of 
 his fields or on to the middle of the highroad, to 
 make a meal off it. The hen-harriers and the spar- 
 row-hawks hunt and kill the partridges by the roads 
 after the corn is cut, and the birds are frequently 
 cut down as they clear the hedge to cross over the
 
 1 6 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 road. More than once have I noted the captor 
 crouching over his quarry in the middle of the road. 
 As to owls the grand feathered cats, and our 
 farmers' best friends you may always find them 
 about the roadside, in summer or winter, if you know 
 their haunts. They generally hunt in couples, if 
 their young are out of the way for the season. There 
 was one country road down which I used to travel 
 regularly at one time in the evening, that had two 
 gates exactly opposite each other at one point of it, 
 leading from one lot of fields to another lot belonging 
 to the same farm. Oat and wheat stacks stood on 
 either side of both gates, just clear of them, only 
 allowing enough room for the waggons to pass in and 
 out. On each gate a white owl would perch regularly 
 evening after evening. I saw them there, watching 
 for the rats and mice that ran across the road from 
 one lot of stacks to the other. What these two missed 
 would hardly have furnished a meal for a shrike. 
 Any owl on the hunt is as lively as a falcon, and 
 quite as eager, although in a different fashion. I have 
 frequently heard a pair of them just over my head 
 as I walked along. On looking up I could see them 
 just above me, hissing and snoring in the most
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 17 
 
 amiable manner possible. By the way, there is one 
 way of looking at a creature without alarming it, 
 and that is to look as you continue to pass along : 
 a dead stop will cause it to move on at once. The 
 brown owl, although it is more essentially a bird of 
 the woods than the white owl, swoops round and 
 about the roads. 
 
 The numbers of creatures that cross roads at night 
 can hardly be imagined. Frogs and toads quit their 
 hiding-places in the moist stripes near the hedges, 
 and hop about in all directions. To the brown owl 
 a nice jumping frog is a great delicacy; he drops 
 down on him whenever he catches sight of him. 
 The difference between a toad and a frog our brown 
 owl knows far better than you do. The worst of it 
 is, he will pull poor froggy to pieces all alive, and 
 he is not at all particular on which part he begins 
 first. I have heard the frogs complaining most 
 bitterly about the cruelty of the operation. It may 
 not be a universally known fact that the frog has a 
 voice independently of his croaking, but it is a fact. 
 A most eloquent one it is, too, when he is completely 
 upset, and it can be heard for some distance. If you 
 wish to practise a harmless joke at his expense, some 
 B
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 evening when you see him sitting in the grass, con- 
 templating nothing in particular, step back and break 
 off a pliant twig ; then rustle it gently in the grass 
 behind him, in imitation of a snake crawling. He 
 will spring away, bleating in terror. When the brown 
 owl grips him, the frog is both hurt and frightened ; 
 happily the suffering is of short duration owls make 
 quick work of their victims. Beetles these birds 
 pick up, as well as larger game, and the roads are 
 just the parts beetles disport themselves in, both by 
 day and night. 
 
 The fern owl, or goatsucker, loves the roads, for 
 all kind of insects hover and settle about them : 
 after the sun has been on the bare ground all the 
 day, it becomes warm towards night. Let any one 
 watch on a midsummer's evening a row of fine elms 
 lining one of our country roads, if he would know 
 how insect- life is kept in check. Bats and goat- 
 suckers go to work with a will, even before the 
 swallows, swifts, and martins have quite ended their 
 labours of the day ; and from the great bat down 
 to the little flutter-mouse, they continue for hours, 
 wheeling, twisting, and darting about in pursuit of 
 their insect prey. They have only one object in
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 19 
 
 view that of procuring the insects of various species 
 that swarm in hosts over and about the fine old elms. 
 
 Flycatchers are on the watch all the day long for 
 their food, which they mostly capture in flight. They 
 will sit on rails and posts by the side of the road, 
 very contentedly apparently ; but they are watching 
 and waiting for their prey, and when it comes near 
 will seize it with a snap that can be distinctly heard. 
 The red -backed shrike is the vigilant watchman of 
 the roads for insect-life, both flying and crawling. 
 He is sure to be near at hand, just off the road ; 
 his hawk-like form and his well-known "chack !" are 
 familar to all those who regularly travel along the 
 highways. If you wish to see him in full force 
 that is, two or three pairs of shrikes at work at the 
 same time go to the foot of some railway embank- 
 ment which is close to the road. There you will 
 see them sitting in pairs, at stated intervals, watching 
 for prey. Trains do not frighten them ; they seem 
 to understand that the rumble and shake of the 
 ground gives them food. The vibration caused by 
 the passing train causes the insects to dart from 
 their shelters, and then the shrikes are busy. 
 
 So well known has it become to all insect-feeding
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 birds that railway tracks are good hunting-grounds, 
 that it is now a common sight to see rooks perched 
 on the telegraph-posts, waiting for a train to pass. 
 The moment it has gone by they dash off to feed. 
 Even that most v/ary bird, the green woodpecker, 
 will hunt along the line at certain seasons. Woods 
 and very wild moorlands and the heaths are, com- 
 paratively speaking, lifeless : you must go to the 
 borders of the highways to see both animal and bird 
 life in full activity. They will go to covert, if driven, 
 for safety ; but all, from the boldest to the shyest, 
 prefer to live a short distance often a very short 
 distance indeed from man and the roads he travels 
 on, if he will allow them to do so. 
 
 Crows, magpies, and jays flit over the roads, from 
 copse to copse and from field to field ; but on the 
 road itself they do not care to settle, for this reason : 
 they know that they are in bad odour with the 
 general community of men, on account of the trick 
 they have of pilfering all that comes within the range 
 of their vision, whether it be young poultry or fruit, 
 eggs or young game, both furred and feathered. 
 Two or three magpies or a family of jays will do a 
 considerable amount of mischief in a very brief space.
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 
 
 So they are continually reminded in no gentle terms 
 to " move on," which accounts for their restless feel- 
 ings and habits. Where not interfered with, I have 
 known them to be almost as tame and as confident 
 as thrushes. 
 
 Wild geese bean -geese, not bernicles or grey 
 lag-geese will pitch in the farmer's fields to feed 
 on the clover that is sure to shoot up, young and 
 tender, when the stubbles are left fallow for a time. 
 Grass meadows also have great attraction for them. 
 I have seen them flying over the lowlands at the 
 base of the Surrey hills, where the farms are far 
 apart from one another, to favourite grazing-grounds, 
 in the season when they travel. A farmer's son I 
 knew a keen shot and good roadside observer rose 
 a gaggle from his father's farmyard pond early one 
 morning. That coot - footed little swimmer, the 
 phalerope, has pitched in a farmer's pond more 
 than once, where he swam about, light as a cork, 
 amongst the ducks. As to the snipe, he will come 
 in sharp, weather to the drain near the farmer's back- 
 door, and remain there feeding, if he be not disturbed 
 or shot. Ignorant agitators have raved about our 
 waste lands ; what do they know about the matter ?
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 Those broad stripes, keeping moist even in midsum- 
 mer, that line either side of so many country roads, 
 are the good angels of the fields. Deep water- 
 courses run down all of these moist borders, hidden 
 by the tangle. The fields must be drained, more or 
 less ; and these are the natural outlets for the water 
 that would, if it remained, ruin the land for corn- 
 growing purposes. 
 
 Besides this, the tangled stripes and the old hedges 
 benefit our domestic creatures as well as all wild 
 things. The horses, donkeys, cows, ducks, and 
 geese of the poorer proprietors all find food on 
 these roadside stripes. And what would the cot- 
 tagers, who keep bees in considerable quantities 
 now, on the modern system of bee-keeping, do, if 
 the wastes, with all their wealth of wild-flowers, were 
 " improved " away ? The distances that bees fly to 
 gather honey would hardly be credited except by 
 those who keep them, and are familiar with their 
 ways. 
 
 If I wished to see that feathered model of suspicion 
 the hawfinch, I should expect to find him, if any- 
 where about, on a hedge-top, cracking sloe, bullace, 
 or wild-plum stones.
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 23 
 
 When spring is here, that harbinger of the cuckoo. 
 the wryneck, will come and shout out his peet-peet- 
 peet-peet-pee-pee-pee on the old pollard, or on the 
 moss-covered trunk of some fruit-tree, for my notice 
 as I wander along. So close have I been to him that 
 I could study all his delicate moth-like markings and 
 his movements to perfection. Like the robin and 
 the wren, as well as the cuckoo, with whose coming 
 they so closely associate him, the wryneck is one of 
 the country children's favourite birds. 
 
 Mary Howitt, a true lover of nature and all her 
 children, from the greatest to the least, describes the 
 harbinger of the cuckoo so sweetly, that we may be 
 pardoned for reminding our readers of her lines : 
 
 " Pee ! pee ! pee ! says the merry pee-bird, 
 And as soon as the children hear it, 
 ' The cuckoo's coming,' they say, ' for I heard 
 Up in the tree the merry pee-bird, 
 And he'll come in three days, or near it.' 
 The days go on, one, two, three, 
 And the little bird singeth ' pee ! pee ! pee ! ' 
 Then on the morrow, 'tis very true, 
 They hear the note of the old cuckoo ; 
 .Up in the elm-tree through the day, 
 Just as last summer he shouted away ; 
 ' Cuckoo ! ' the cuckoo doth cry, 
 And the little boys mock him as they go by."
 
 24 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 I claim Mary Howitt as one of our company of road- 
 side naturalists. 
 
 Donkeys are credited with feeding largely on 
 thistles, those prickly roadside products. He may 
 munch the tender tops of the plants now and then, 
 but you do not catch the asinus harmonious, grass- 
 organ, thistle-puke, or beesweet all these names are 
 given to that animal in our rural district eating 
 thistles when he can get better food. The donkey 
 is very fastidious in many of his habits ; in drinking 
 he is particularly so. Shakespeare noted this, and 
 one of his characters says 
 
 " Would that the fountain of thy mind was clear, 
 That I might water an ass at it." 
 
 No, not for donkeys do those thistles grow so rank 
 and so luxuriously, but for the birds that flock to 
 them for food when their seeds are ripe. It is one of 
 the prettiest of my roadside sights, that of a flock of 
 twenty or thirty goldfinches fluttering over the stems 
 and heads of the thistles, and clinging to them in all 
 manner of positions. Twenty or thirty I call a large 
 flock goldfinches are getting scarcer with us. Tit- 
 mice all the tits feed more or less on thistle-seeds;
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 25 
 
 in hard weather I have seen siskins and redpolls 
 busily at work on thistles, for they were the only 
 plants that rose above the surface of the snow. 
 
 Blackbirds, thrushes, hedge-sparrows, willow-wrens, 
 white-throats, and nightingales all nest and get their 
 living by the roadsides. I have often listened to 
 the nightingale singing not ten feet above my head, 
 and have found his nest in the bank and left it 
 there only a yard or two from the main road. 
 
 Before we leave hedgerow life, mention should be 
 made of the entomologists who find in and about the 
 hedges happy hunting-grounds, both by day and 
 night. Butterflies, moths, and beetles abound, and 
 even the last-named creatures have their ardent and 
 devoted followers. The hawk -moths or sphinx 
 family delight in such localities : before some of 
 our ancient hedges were grubbed up, in my younger 
 days, I have made some good captures of various 
 members of that family. The death's-head moth and 
 the caterpillar of the moth used to be frequently found 
 in the potato-fields at that time, to the disgust of the 
 rustics who worked in the fields. They attributed 
 to the caterpillar certain harmful and supernatural 
 qualities that showed a wonderful imagination on
 
 26 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 their part. I have known a well-to-do farmer's wife 
 and daughter put aside a heavy three-weeks' wash for 
 that day, because a splendid specimen of the death's- 
 head moth had been found on one of the tubs that 
 they intended to use. In spite of the progress made 
 in education, many curious superstitions linger, and 
 will linger still for many years to come, in our more 
 isolated country districts. With the superstitions the 
 old folk-lore, valuable in its way, will go too. Many 
 of our cottagers will still forbid the bringing of wild 
 birds' eggs into the house. Woe betide the children, 
 though, if they do not at once bring in those of the 
 hen or duck that may be laying away ! 
 
 By roadside waters I have in my wanderings lin- 
 gered, rod in hand : nearly all the mill pools or ponds 
 are naturally close to the highways. The streams 
 that feed them run in a line with the roads as a rule, 
 or they cross them. But all mill-ponds and mill- 
 streams have peculiar rights attached to them rights 
 which are most jealously guarded by the owners. 
 Our rustic miller puts his foot down and states in 
 the most emphatic manner " that he wunt hev the 
 feathered critturs shot at, nor the fish dragged out 
 on it." Though the wayfarer may study bird-life,
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 27 
 
 " as he runs," most freely, he will find fish-studies a 
 very different matter. When I have tried to make 
 some close observations of the sort myself, it has not 
 always turned out either to my own satisfaction or 
 to that of the miller, and it has led me into some 
 awkward positions. 
 
 If a pond is required for cattle-drinking purposes 
 at a farmhouse, they generally lead the runnels from 
 the meadows to the spot where they wish to make 
 one. In these ponds there are usually fish, and 
 good ones too ; for where the cattle drink and the 
 ducks dabble about, there is a continual supply of 
 good food, insect-life following the cattle even to the 
 water's edge. 
 
 Any angler, of course, will tell in less than ten 
 minutes if a pool or stream has got fish in it. Cer- 
 tain fish have certain actions in the water : slight 
 though these may be, they are sufficient to let the 
 initiated observer know what are there. There 
 is, however, in some cases a crabbed cantankerous 
 host to deal with, who, even after you have pro- 
 pitiated him with good pay for the right to fish 
 in his water, will harry you with advice and re- 
 strictions.
 
 28 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 " You ain't to use no live bait master don't 'low 
 it ; 'sidders as it's torturin' little fishes." In vain 
 to tell the man the baits you intend to spin with 
 are dead ones. " No," says he, " master wunt hev 
 it." On one of these occasions, after considerable 
 grumbling, I threw my box of dead baits, packed 
 in bran, over as far as I could throw, to my com- 
 panion, who was in the alder swamps close at hand, 
 and then produced a large bag of fine dew-worms. 
 " Ah, you ken catch all ye ken with them 'ere worms," 
 the man said on leaving me. 
 
 I caught some good roach and perch with worms, 
 and then sat down to my lunch. Just as I was 
 beginning to eat, the same man who had given me 
 that unwelcome piece of information strolled down 
 to see if I was having any luck. With a rueful 
 grimace I pointed to one or two roach and perch. 
 Then I earnestly pressed him to accept a good 
 wedge of veal and ham pie, and to imbibe a re- 
 puted quart of Bass's best bitter. This he did to 
 his own perfect satisfaction and to mine also, for 
 under its mellowing influence he informed me that 
 his master had gone out and would not be back
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 29 
 
 before night, adding, in a kindly and reflective 
 mood, " It's a'most a pity as you chucked all them 
 'ere dead baits away, fur master is gone, an' what 
 his eyes never seed his heart could never grieve arter. 
 I'll cum an' see yer agin afore long." 
 
 I gave the man an inward benediction as he de- 
 parted, such as the gipsies' magpie bestowed on the 
 parish constable ; then from my tackle-case I took 
 out two artificial spinning-baits, made on the most 
 approved principles, put them on, traces and all 
 complete, and set to work. They took to perfec- 
 tion with the pike and perch. I am not able to 
 say whether it was the pie and the ale that in- 
 clined the mind of the miller's man to contempla- 
 tion but one thing I know, from one of the upper 
 windows of the mill he calmly watched my fishing 
 luck. It was a short meadow's length from the 
 mill ; but as he saw the flash of scales when the 
 fish were grassed, even his stolid nature was stirred 
 to excitement, and crying that he "must raly go 
 an' see thet good luck," he came down and out to- 
 wards me. Very quickly the traces were slipped off, 
 and worm-tackle was substituted. Fortunately, just
 
 30 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 as he reached me, a small jack took one of the worm 
 baits, as they will frequently do. 
 
 After a little more refreshment I allowed him to 
 inspect my catch : then he begged me as a favour 
 to leave the remaining worms with him, for " never 
 in his martil life had he ever knowed worms to 
 ketch jacks an' perches like that ; he should try 
 them 'ere worms himself when the old man was 
 out of the way." Many of my readers who have 
 fished I use the word with emphasis know that 
 at times it is absolutely necessary to propitiate the 
 guardian genii of the place with fluids more potent 
 and soothing than the water that surrounds them 
 on all sides. There is the old saw of all being fair 
 in love and war, about the truth of which I am 
 unable to offer an opinion ; but I firmly believe 
 that all is fair in fishing when you pay for it. The 
 fluctuations inseparable from my particular branch 
 of work have always given me more leisure than 
 was at times acceptable or profitable ; for days and 
 weeks at certain seasons I am free to wander abroad 
 at will, but I trust in these rambling notes I have 
 said enough to convince my readers that even a
 
 A ROADSIDE NATURALIST. 31 
 
 workman who might have no other opportunities of 
 following up his studies in natural history if that 
 be his bent than along the highroads over which 
 he must travel morning and evening to and from his 
 work, will find ample opportunities for observation in 
 going and coming.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 
 
 SURREY HILLS, or, as they have been justly named, 
 the Surrey Highlands, have a charm peculiarly their 
 own. To the lover of nature, under their varied 
 aspects, influenced by overhanging storm or clouds, 
 or by the bright glad sunshine, they are beautiful, 
 with their rich depth of colour : to the true field 
 naturalist they offer all that he could wish for in the 
 way of natural life fur, fish, and feather, to say 
 nothing of the insect and floral wealth, which I be- 
 lieve to be unsurpassed in the length and breadth 
 of England. In the pursuit of my business I have 
 wandered much over these hills, along their sides 
 and through the great stretches of valley-lands that 
 go by the name of Weald. This term, however,
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 
 
 gives but a slight idea of the actual country. For 
 nearly forty years, since I left the home of my youth 
 in the North Kent marshes, I have spent the greater 
 portion of my daily life in the open air among these 
 fertile valleys and hills, so that I may fairly claim a 
 close acquaintance with the scenery of Surrey, the 
 wild creatures that inhabit it, and last, but not least, 
 the robust and kind-hearted people, the woodmen of 
 the forest-lands. 
 
 I made my home for a time in a rambling old- 
 fashioned building, which was covered with moss and 
 lichens from the doorstep right up to the chimneys. 
 Old it was in every sense of the word, both inside 
 and out. It stood alone in a sheltered nook of the 
 moor ; and, with the exception of a ride of the softest 
 and greenest turf running the whole length of the 
 valley, it was completely shut in on both sides by 
 the firs. Beyond these lay the wild moorland ; and 
 on all sides of that the woods, the remains of a grand 
 forest which covered Surrey and Sussex in years 
 gone by. 
 
 Some of these places were not, until a few years 
 back, visited by a strange face from one year to 
 another ; now and more's the pity, some of us think 
 c
 
 34 
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 they are overrun in the summer months by men 
 and women who enjoy themselves in various fashions, 
 some of these by no means rural. The majority of 
 these pleasure-seekers are like those who gaze at the 
 exterior of a beautiful casket, in total ignorance of 
 the jewels within. There yet remain innumerable, 
 spots on and about the footlands of the glorious hills, 
 where nature can be studied in all her primitive wild- 
 ness ; where a man may forget himself and his petty 
 troubles, whilst the wild things will come almost to 
 his feet and look at him in wonder ; where the turf 
 has the richness and softness of velvet, and so very 
 still is it that the gentle coo of the wood-pigeon falls 
 with startling effect on the ear. 
 
 Those beautiful insects the fritillaries flit over you 
 there with dashing flight in all directions : so strong 
 is the beat of wing in the larger species that a faint 
 click can be distinctly heard at each stroke. 
 
 Here one may rest from morning till night and 
 feel afterwards that not only is weary brain and over- 
 charged heart lulled and soothed, but one is better 
 and wiser for so resting. More salutary than any 
 medicine is the scent from the firs and the warm 
 earth. If you are restless and ill at ease, a gentle
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 35 
 
 drowsiness steals over you, as you listen to the soft 
 hum of the summer breeze through the needles of 
 the firs, or the faint dripping tinkle of the trout 
 stream that runs through the glades. Drop down 
 into the valleys from the higher lands where you will, 
 and you will come on those small rills with their tiny 
 trout, pigmy fish, that fully illustrate the fitness of 
 all the conditions of natural law : a tiny rill with tiny 
 fish in it ; larger mouths would not get enough here 
 to fill them. These small fish are not young ; they 
 are the dwarf trout of the moorland rills. 
 
 I am out on the moor early on a soft May morn- 
 ing. It is just light enough to see things : the old 
 clock indoors struck four as I slipped outside, the 
 best time for observation. Not a sound is to be 
 heard, and bird-life seems at first to be extinct. 
 Not so, however, for through the thin mist two birds 
 pass over with a swish of the wings. They are the 
 mallard and his mate, the duck leading. The wild 
 duck frequents spots which the duck tribe generally 
 are not supposed to visit. After the corn is cut they 
 will come to the harvest fields for the scattered 
 grain ; also to the margin of the woods for acorns, 
 if there is any water near. To prove this shoot your
 
 36 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 duck, and then examine the contents of the bird's 
 stomach. 
 
 The sun is up now, and the light mist floats over 
 the tops of the firs. Our path runs through them for 
 a couple of miles or more. The trunks shine like 
 copper bronze in spots where the light breaks 
 through, and the fresh green tips of new foliage stand 
 out like emerald tassels against the old, which will 
 gradually drop off in small dead needles, making a 
 carpet beneath, soft to walk on ; or a couch whereon 
 to lie for a time, to rest and inhale their health- 
 giving fragrance. 
 
 With a clap-clap-clap of his strong wings, the 
 wood-pigeon shoots up over the tree-tops, and floats, 
 with outspread tail and wings, for his mate to look up 
 at and admire, as she sits on her slight platform of 
 twigs not ten feet overhead. This action of his is 
 peculiar, and only to be seen when the birds are 
 nesting. On a branch, full in the morning light, sits 
 another fine fellow. What a picture he makes! 
 The purple tint of his breast, the patch of white on 
 his neck and warm grey of his back, touched here 
 and there with black on the wings, make a study to 
 be noted. With a rush and scolding chatter the
 
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 37 
 
 squirrels play overhead, leaping and swinging from 
 branch to branch. Look at that harmony of colour 
 displayed where one sits with a fir cone in his hands. 
 His bushy tail is set up with just a small light tip to 
 it ; like his back and sides and limbs, it has a warm 
 reddish-cinnamon tint : and with his bright black 
 eyes and creamy white chest, you have a terra-cotta 
 study brought out and harmonised to perfection by 
 the olive-green of the fir foliage. In spring-time the 
 squirrel's fur is different from what it is in winter. 
 
 As I near the sloping part of the wood a sound 
 comes up from the opposite side of the glade, causing 
 me to stand quite quiet. It is the call of the black- 
 cock at play. Creeping to the edge of the wood 
 from tree to tree, I look out, and there is a sight 
 which you might hunt long for and not see. Right 
 in front, and below the spot where I am concealed, 
 on a platform consisting of felled fir-trunks not yet 
 carted off, struts a Black Prince in the bright sun- 
 light, on a portion of the trunks where the bark has 
 been stripped off. He is showing himself in full 
 dress suit to the ladies of his feather, who stand 
 looking at him from the green turf of the moor. His 
 head bent low, feathers puffed out, tail bent over his
 
 38 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 head, and wings trailed, he croons away to his heart's 
 content. Now and then, when he gives himself 
 extra grand airs by jumping up and coming down 
 in a different position, he looks very like being half 
 choked with pleasure and self-satisfaction. We have 
 a combination of blue, purple, white, and the crimson 
 wattles over the eyes, brought up by the red-grey 
 of bark and the buff-white of the bare trunk. A 
 blue sky overhead and the velvet turf, littered over 
 here and there with blocks of moss-covered stone, 
 complete the picture. 
 
 I could have looked at the birds for hours if it 
 had been possible, but my picture was spoilt by a 
 mischievous meddling magpie which had been fol- 
 lowing me in true magpie fashion at a distance, from 
 tree to tree, having evidently made up his mind that 
 my movements were suspicious. With a clacking 
 alarm-note he flew over the trees to the other side 
 of the glade ; and before he had gone half-way, the 
 Black Prince and his admirers had vanished like a 
 dream. 
 
 No matter how the habits and form of the various 
 species may differ, all birds seem to understand a 
 warning cry. As I pass over the, green stripe, I start
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 39 
 
 them again from some young firs self-sown. These 
 young trees spring up in all directions, single, and 
 in clumps which give fine cover. The birds like 
 these places, because they get here a good look-out 
 as a rule. Blackcock are very shy. With a note of 
 warning to the hens, up he springs again, the white 
 on his wings and tail -coverts showing distinctly, 
 while his back flashes steel-blue in the sun. The 
 hens follow, three of them, and they are soon over 
 the trees to find a fresh playground. They are late 
 this season, for it has been a bitter winter and a long 
 one, the snow covering the hills far into April. 
 
 " How do such large birds live on the moors and 
 hills in such bitter weather ? " I was asked once by 
 a naturalist, so called because he had studied bird- 
 life from books and stuffed specimens. Stuffed, 
 indeed ! the word is suitable : tow rammed down 
 their throats, and little more. 
 
 The stems of the dead plants, especially those of 
 the fern, are tough : any one who has walked through 
 the brake must have noticed how they cross and fall 
 over, making a tangle. When the snow falls it is 
 caught and held up by the dead fronds and stems. 
 More falls, and only the tips here and there peep
 
 40 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 through. The mass gets frozen, and forms a roof 
 which leaves an open space underneath. It may 
 freeze, and the north-east winds may sweep over, 
 day and night, but it is warm below the surface. 
 And there vegetation thrives : the grass, heath, and 
 whortleberry shrubs are in a grand conservatory 
 designed by the same Great Power that created all 
 things. The blackcock and other birds live beneath 
 the snow ; so do the hares, rabbits, and other 
 creatures. I have pulled the top roofing of snow off, 
 like a tablecloth, from some places, in one large 
 frozen flake, after six weeks of bitter weather, and 
 have found the vegetation below green, tender, and 
 growing in good condition. 
 
 And that is how the large birds live. When Black 
 Prince wants to come out and look round him, he 
 knocks a hole through quickly. The covering is 
 only a slight one in some parts, and he knows all 
 about it. It is somewhat startling to see a large 
 bird like that come from nowhere, as folks say, and 
 disappear again in the same mysterious direction. 
 
 Pay a visit to a furze brake, when the snow covers 
 all the top a furze brake where the stems in many 
 places are as thick as a man's leg and as high as
 
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 
 
 your head, I mean. They can be found like that 
 in places now few and far between, I am sorry to say, 
 for the forest-fires have made havoc with those sanc- 
 tuaries for bird and beast and insect. To explore a 
 little, put on a pair of leather gloves and gaiters, 
 and crawl in. You will find it warm. The furze 
 needles that have been dropping for who knows how 
 many years form a soft carpet. Dig down with your 
 fingers, and you are surprised at the depth of decayed 
 needles, also at the animal life. Insects of innumer- 
 able kinds hide and live in the fallen matter. When 
 the weather would kill them outside, they find com- 
 fort and plenty there. Great humble-bees lie-up in 
 the dry needles for the winter, and other things not 
 quite so harmless. 
 
 You will find all the insect - eating birds that 
 remain with us through the winter, if it is a severe 
 one, in and a-bout one of those old-time furze brakes, 
 with very few exceptions. 
 
 Right in front of me, as I ramble on, are the 
 beech -woods. Other trees grow there; a fringe of 
 hazel-bushes runs in broken clumps just on the top 
 of a splashed bank. That is the term for a rough 
 wall composed of turf and stones, thrown up, years
 
 42 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 ago, to keep cattle from . roaming about the woods. 
 After a time seedling trees shoot and grow ; and 
 when these are large enough the woodman gives 
 them a cut in a slanting direction, and pegs them 
 down along the side of the bank. From them 
 fresh shoots come, so that after a time the bank is 
 bound in all directions. Fresh turf is placed over 
 the cut branches, and the whole grows ; there are 
 hazel-bushes on the top. No cattle can storm a 
 moorland splashed bank. 
 
 There is a stile for chance wanderers this way, 
 and on it I rest for a time. The sun is well up in 
 the sky, and something within tells me breakfast 
 would be acceptable ; but I have four more miles 
 to walk before I can get it My resting-place is 
 warm and pleasant. Other creatures find it so too, 
 and they come out to enjoy it. A rustle amongst 
 the dead leaves makes me look down. On the 
 mossy root of one of the hazels sits a dormouse 
 a beauty with a nut that he has brought from 
 his storehouse near. Not far above is his nest, 
 where he has slept through all the hard winter. 
 He is a bright, handsome little fellow, active as a 
 squirrel in his own domain amid the nut- bushes.
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 43 
 
 All banks and dry-stone walls are favourite spots 
 for observing the mouse tribe. They thrive there 
 and play about in all directions. As I sit quiet on 
 the stile, a couple of woodmice run out, and very 
 soon they begin to feed on some tender grass shoots. 
 They resemble the dormouse in their colour, which 
 is a bright fawn, but their tails are not bushy. 
 Quite as large they are also ; and they, too, sit up 
 to eat. As I move to enter the wood they scamper 
 away quickly. 
 
 Great trees stand all about me, some of them 
 covered half-way up with moss and lichens, and 
 their lower branches touch the ground, which is 
 covered with decayed leaves, giving a warm brown- 
 red tone, which brings out in strong relief the 
 moss-covered, grey-toned trunks. In many places 
 that rich leaf- mould is two feet deep and more. 
 The light falls on the tender bright -green leaves 
 and plays on the tree- trunks here and there, while 
 Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! is heard on all sides. In some 
 places you catch a sight of wild cherry and crabtree 
 in full blossom, mingled with the mountain - ash. 
 Close to you, singing with all his heart to cheer his 
 mate on her nest, is the flute-player of the woods,
 
 44 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 the blackbird. Morning and evening, with other 
 birds near of kin, he sings his hymn to the rising 
 and setting sun. 
 
 Deep within the wood, and close to the narrow 
 track, stand a few decayed firs which have thrown 
 out a fibrous growth in patches. A small portion 
 of a bird's wing with blood on it below one of these, 
 at my feet, makes me look quickly upward. I can 
 see a sparrow-hawk's nest with young ones in it. 
 They are hungry, and are calling for " mother." 
 Spar'-hawk, the woodmen call him very fitly, for he 
 or "she," as they say, will fly at anything. Here 
 she comes with a bird of some kind. She sees me, 
 and the bird is dropped quickly in the nest. A 
 flash of wings and tail, and "mother" is off, not 
 far away though, for she is on the watch. 
 
 In a captive state the sparrow-hawk is not the 
 most gentle of pets. I have reared them from the 
 nest, male and female. It is surprising what they 
 will eat : they have tempers of their own, too, in 
 common with their keepers. One day spar' -hawk 
 will perch on your hand well gloved mind a bold, 
 handsome, good-humoured bird : the next time you 
 offer your hand he will strike, bite, and shriek, and
 
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 45 
 
 throw himself on his back like a feathered maniac. 
 No ; as a pet he is a failure, and is better at large, 
 a bird without fear, and with a large appetite. 
 
 Hark ! that is the yaffle's laugh. The green 
 woodpecker is called a yaffle by the woodlanders 
 here. Another answers him ; if we are cautious 
 we may get a sight of them. There he is ; louder 
 and nearer comes his tap-tap-tap. Drawing close 
 to a large tree-trunk, I peer out. The woods begin 
 to ring with their cries. They are on that old 
 decayed beech which is almost ready to fall with 
 age, the yaffle and his mate. What a picture of 
 bird-life ! with his crimson and yellow-green back 
 against the old grey trunk. They are at play again, 
 and they cry as they chase each other over, under, 
 and round about the trunk and limbs, while with 
 their, claws they make as much rattle as a couple 
 of cats on the climb would. The pretty sight is 
 soon put an end to. " Ike, ike ! " a cry of alarm 
 to her mate, and the female bird dives into a hole 
 in the tree. The male scuttles round with a yell, 
 for a grey bird shoots with a flash from some tree 
 near, where he has been on the watch. It is a male 
 sparrow-hawk. The yaffle knows his life is in
 
 4 6 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 danger ; trust to his wings he dares not : if he is 
 to escape, it must be by his feet. With head turn- 
 ing in all directions, and body close to the tree- 
 trunk, he looks for his enemy. Here he comes! 
 a close shave it is this time. Quick as thought 
 the hawk -recovers himself for the mount. The 
 yaffle's head is only just missed ; another pounce, 
 and one or two of his back-feathers fly : the hawk 
 has changed his method of attack, and struck at him 
 sideways. The yaffle, mad with fear, is cluttering 
 and shrieking, while his mate answers him. He 
 is near her hiding-place ; if he can only get there 
 he will be safe, but he is nearly beat. With a rush 
 the hawk comes for him and misses. Before he 
 can turn again, quick though he is, the yaffle dives 
 into the place of refuge with his mate. You see 
 the green woodpeckers frequently on the ant-hills 
 in the meadows adjoining the woods, and I think 
 they will hold their own for a long time if the woods 
 remain. They are very shy, and are rarely shot. 
 All their mode of life tends to concealment. It is 
 only when the male bird thinks of taking to himself 
 a mate that he shows himself to advantage. Then he 
 and she certainly talk loudly enough together ; and
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 47 
 
 his laugh does not do him good, for it sometimes 
 costs him his life. He is a splendid fellow if he 
 is not stuffed. 
 
 Clearing the woods, a strip of moorland has to 
 be crossed ; and about the edge of the belt of wood- 
 land, woodcocks sometimes nest. Well do I re- 
 member one nest where Mrs Woodcock hatched 
 out all right ; and she used to lead her little chicks 
 from the wood on to the moor to feed. I told a 
 person once that a woodcock and her young had 
 been running about close to me. He smiled, a wise 
 benevolent smile, and said nothing. It was quite 
 enough, I dislike benevolent smiles much. To 
 settle his unbelief, I could have placed the mother 
 and family in his hands if I had thought fit, but not 
 for twenty pounds would I have done it. 
 
 The moor dips down from here to the main road 
 the road, in fact, cuts it in two parts and then 
 the woods begin again. There are hills, valleys, 
 moors, and scrub growth. The hills are full of 
 water, and the moors act like a sponge to run it 
 off. Some of the moorland has been cleared from 
 heather, and turned into rough field land, bearing 
 a crop of coarse grass and rushes. In one of these
 
 48 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 fields through which I frequently passed snipe had 
 nested the only pair about that quarter. Many a 
 time the woodmen and their boys stopped to watch 
 the snipe's play, and to listen to the peculiar sound 
 made in its downward flight. That bird was never 
 shot or molested in any way, and yet it was not 
 preserved ground he nested on. " We likes to see 
 him cut them capers, we do it's cur'ous," they 
 would say to me. They were fond of pets, those 
 woodmen, and many a bird they and their children 
 had in cages outside their cottages, the door being 
 left open for them to go in and out as they 
 pleased. 
 
 As I said before, my knowledge of Surrey Hills 
 dates back from a considerable period of time 
 when the mansions of the old gentry of the land, 
 the owners of the soil, with their interiors furnished 
 with solid oak and mahogany, made by hands that 
 loved their work and did it conscientiously, and 
 their walls covered with paintings representing some 
 incident or other of outdoor natural life rather than 
 the so-called pictures of genre or the sickly senti- 
 mentalisms of the more aesthetic world, were the 
 only houses to be seen. And these stood far apart,
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 49 
 
 nestling in the rich woodlands within sight of a 
 glimpse of thin blue smoke, curling up from some 
 glades where those who worked on their estates 
 lived in their substantial old cottages, that had 
 more solid oak timber in one of them than there 
 is in a dozen of those built at the present time. 
 They were the only signs of human life that the 
 wanderer would see when I first came to these 
 parts of Surrey ; but time brings changes nearly 
 all the old gentry have gone, to the sorrow of some 
 of us, for they were ladies and gentlemen in the 
 fullest sense of the word. A few old families re- 
 main, bearing justly honoured names, but these 
 might be counted on the fingers of one hand, I 
 believe. With the old families, their old retainers 
 the woodmen and their " post and tan " cottages 
 have passed away. They were a hard-handed folk, 
 but kind and homely of speech, themselves nature's 
 gentlemen. I have wandered many a day long with 
 some of them, but they are now nearly all laid to 
 rest in the quaint churchyards of the different ham- 
 lets, where they lie covered with what the foresters 
 call their " daisy quilts." 
 
 Loyal henchmen I knew them to be, to a man ; 
 D
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 their regard for their employers was very genuine. 
 One of them observed to me once, after a change 
 of owners had taken place, " I'd sooner hev the 
 old Squire give me one o' his jacketin's when summat 
 had riled him a bit : massy alive ! he could put it 
 out, 'twas a real pleasure to hear him, he did rap 
 it out so. But Lor' bless ye ! all as ye'd got tu du 
 was to stan' an' hear it all, an' say nuthin' ; fur when 
 he'd said it he'd walk away, and presently, mind 
 ye, he'd cum back an' he'd say, 'Tom, this ere 
 damned gout makes me say things as I didn't 
 ought to: here's half-a-crownd fur ye; ye get on 
 with yer work.' Hap' he'd had a word or two in- 
 doors that mornin' ; bless ye ! they has a rumpus, 
 in the shape o' a word or two, now an' again, same 
 as we has, and when they's had their say they likes 
 one another all the better fur it, that's my 'pinion 
 on it. Most menjous high spirity folks wus the 
 old master and the missus ; but oh, warn't they 
 real good uns to all the likes o' we! I'd sooner 
 hev a jacketin' from th' old Squire three times a-day 
 than I'd hev a gold suvrin from this un. I puts up 
 with un till I gits summat else tu du ; when I gits 
 that I leaves he quick."
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 
 
 Old Tom's literally recorded declaration of his 
 sentiments expresses the feeling of the few old 
 woodmen's families that now remain on and about 
 the hills. Modern mansions have been built where 
 some of these older ones stood, or near to them 
 buildings of ferociously glaring red bricks and tiling, 
 strongly relieved by the white quarterings now so 
 very prevalent in mansions of this particular style. 
 Time will soften the glaring tones the sooner the 
 better, I think, for they flash out from the sur- 
 rounding woodlands, reminding me always of those 
 scarlet fungi, of wonderful properties for those who 
 are in the secret, that spring up, happily few and far 
 between, in the fall of the year from the turf at the 
 foot of the trees. 
 
 As in my descriptions I have no intention of 
 imitating those misleading publications called guide- 
 books, I shall indicate no particular locality; and 
 with Hindhead and Blackdown and their "Broom 
 dashes," or " Broom squires/' we have nothing to 
 do. These titles have been bestowed on the de- 
 scendants of nomads who in past times squatted 
 in the mighty hollows of those hills. Quite enough 
 of the peculiar traits of their ancestors remain still
 
 52 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 in some of the present inhabitants to indicate where 
 they spring from. We have not sufficient space to 
 describe all, so we follow the sage old proverb that 
 tells us " that is best which lies nearest us," and will 
 take, first, glorious Holmbury, with its fell of the 
 moor, or, as it is named in all parochial documents, 
 " Fell de Moor," with Farleigh, called locally Farley 
 Heath, or Fair Heath rightly named, for it is very 
 fair to look on. It has also a history of a past time, 
 when the Romans ruled Britain. 
 
 Close to Holmbury, springing from the valley that 
 divides them, is Leith Hill. Local tradition speaks 
 of it as the Stronghold of Leith, when the Romans 
 camped on the sister hill of Holmbury. What a 
 wealth of hills and dales, woods and streams, there 
 is in our health-giving Holmbury ! Long ago, when 
 it was a land comparatively little known to the gen- 
 eral public, it had a still wilder beauty. In my wan- 
 derings I have been in many an out-of-the-way spot ; 
 but for perfect rest and the feeling of a safe lodging 
 in some far-away vast wilderness a hiding-place 
 from the " strife of tongues " and the contentions of 
 men give me Holmbury, as I knew it thirty years 
 ago.
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 53 
 
 Rising early and going to bed early, with good 
 plain food, keep a man trim and in full vigour when 
 others have waxed feeble. It quickens the sight, too, 
 this healthy life : a man who uses rod or gun as a 
 field naturalist never needs to look twice at a thing. 
 Such were some of the foresters of these hills and 
 vales in the days of my youth : some of their descen- 
 dants have made their mark in distant lands, where 
 their knowledge of wood-craft has served them in 
 good stead. They could not bear the changes here, 
 and sought in far-away backwoods what they had 
 lost in their own land. Raven, crow, falcon, hawk, 
 and owl hunted here at that time. In the evening, 
 on the top of the Holmbury moor, you could see a 
 flight of harriers, male and female, or, as the wood- 
 landers term them, blue hawk and ringtail, a most 
 interesting sight ; the grey and the brown bird flying 
 side by side some little distance apart, certainly, but 
 still in a line. They are looking for no lark or pipit, 
 nor for any of the song-thrush family, but are in 
 quest of nobler game. 
 
 Bad luck to the blackcock, pheasant, or partridge 
 that shows for even one brief moment in any open 
 space ; for when the quarry is sighted, the flapping
 
 54 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 flight will be altered for a quick shoot up in the air 
 of about twenty or thirty feet, and then down comes 
 the hunter, and a very sure pounce it is. The black- 
 cock is a large and powerful bird, but the needle- 
 like claws of the harrier will make short work of 
 him. 
 
 When they hunt partridges the tactics of the har- 
 rier are a little different. If the locality is a stubble 
 fallow, they frighten the birds to begin with, by 
 making them run backwards and forwards till they 
 bunch up, cowering with fear. Then both blue 
 hawk and ringtail set to work in earnest, and come 
 at them with a dash. 
 
 Up spring the partridges in all directions, almost 
 brushing the top off the stubble : all in a clutter they 
 are, one over the other. Then the hunter's work is 
 easy ; each makes a pounce, and each has a bird. 
 
 In the bogs snipe hummed and bleated out a tis- 
 sicking music to their mates, and woodcocks bred in 
 the cover by the hillsides. If the woodcock's nest 
 was near enough to swampy ground, the little crea- 
 tures were led to it ; if at a distance, they were car- 
 ried there and back again. This was once proved in 
 our neighbourhood in a most convincing manner. A
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 55 
 
 woodcock flew past a cover where one of the wood- 
 men was watching for rabbits. He mistook it for a 
 large hawk with a quarry, fired at it, and killed his 
 bird. To his astonishment, when he went to pick it 
 up, he found he had shot a fine female woodcock and 
 her young one. By the way, this member of the 
 scolopax family trots about a great deal at night in 
 very dry places as well as wet ones ; for one fine 
 fellow contrived to walk into a rabbit-trap set on the 
 top of a splashed bank, where, of course, he was 
 captured. 
 
 Our woodmen used to say, " When we wants a 
 thing we has it;" and it was certainly the fact. 
 They had no vulgar poaching practices, and they 
 made no fuss, but they managed to get what they 
 wanted. Where are those two inseparables now, I 
 wonder, such fast friends, yet so different in char- 
 acter, "Wild Toby" and "Thirsty Chub"? or, as 
 he was still more often called, " Drouthy Chubby." 
 Wild Toby was a clever fellow, who could turn his 
 hand to most things, a good musician and a good 
 singer, and of handsome appearance, too. As he 
 was wont to observe, "he couldn't live nohow if he 
 didn't go on the root now and again." Fur, fish and
 
 5 6 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 feather need all look alive when Toby was on the 
 root. 
 
 " Chubby " was the local blacksmith a short, 
 blear-eyed little fellow, with a face that had an 
 absurdly pathetic expression. It was rarely clean, 
 nor was he ever seen without his leather apron. If 
 he was sent for, to shoe at some gentleman's stables, 
 off waddled Chubby, with dirty face and leather 
 apron. He was a perfect master in his business, and 
 made all the edged tools in use for miles round, 
 axes and handbills. It was a common saying that 
 you could shave yourself with Chubby's axes and 
 billhooks. " Nuthin' never ails me only thirst," he 
 would say. " Water ain't no good ; tea an' such 
 slops I can't abide nohow ; an' small beer ain't no 
 use. The only thing as will take this 'ere thirst off 
 fur a time is ale, an' plenty of it." He never stinted 
 himself in that matter. Now and again Chubby 
 would lock up the shop, and go for Toby to have 
 what he called " a day on the quiet." At his special 
 request Toby would bring his clarionet, and as the 
 music moved him, Chubby would blink his eyes, 
 smile pathetically, and endeavour to see the bottom 
 of a quart pot in the most expeditious manner pos-
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 57 
 
 sible. He always provided a separate one for Toby. 
 " Tain't no use offerin' a pot o' ale to anybody else 
 arter I've had two pulls at it," he would say. At 
 a certain point in the convivial proceedings the 
 clarionet would be taken to pieces very deliberately 
 and gravely, put into its case, and handed to the 
 landlady, with a request that she would take very 
 great care of it. Then, to the best of their ability, 
 they would discuss and demonstrate the theory of 
 the best methods of relieving thirst. 
 
 Cross-bows are supposed to be weapons of the 
 past ; yet I have seen them used by those who had 
 made them, and very quiet and deadly weapons they 
 were. Toby made the stock, and Chubby fitted it 
 with steel, bow, and barrel. He also designed and 
 made the bolts ; and this is an example of the way 
 in which they proceeded. Chubby told Toby one 
 day, in the most matter-of-fact way possible, that 
 " some one as he knowed wanted one o' they black- 
 cocks." 
 
 " Is it fur he ? " asked Toby, pointing to myself. 
 
 " No, it ain't ; but I thinks as he'd like to go with 
 ye, Toby, if so be as ye've no objection." 
 
 I had seen black game many a time, but never a
 
 58 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 one killed with a cross-bow. It was early in the 
 season, when the cock birds were playing up to 
 attract their sober - coloured companions, the grey 
 hens. I had marked one of their playing places 
 the day before, when I had started five fine fellows 
 quite by accident. It was a flat kind of green ter- 
 race which jutted out from the hillside. I had come 
 upon them from a clump of firs above, on which they 
 roosted if the cover was too damp for them. All 
 birds show off more or less as the breeding season 
 comes round, but the blackcock is a perfect adept in 
 the art. One moment you see him with his head on 
 a line with the ground, his wings trailed and his 
 curved tail thrown up well over his back. With a 
 quick spring this position is reversed, and he appears 
 with head thrown up and well back, his wings 
 drooped and his tail nearly touching the back of 
 his head, showing the pure white of the under tail- 
 coverts to great advantage. The next moment he 
 will adopt the action of a gamecock slightly modi- 
 fied. One thing is certain he is not so wary at 
 such times as at others. 
 
 We started for the playing place before daylight, 
 and got into hiding close to, just as things were be-
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 59 
 
 coming discernible. " The master cock will come 
 first," whispered Toby. He'll be the best bird o' the 
 lot ; keep your eyes open." 
 
 As the sun showed through the fir trunks down 
 sailed the bird to his platform, where, after a little 
 crooning and bubbling, he began to puff himself out, 
 pouter fashion. 
 
 " Now is the time," a thud, and the grand bird falls 
 over dead. " No harm done," says Toby, as he picks 
 him up. " Look here ! " As he holds the bolt up for 
 my inspection I see that it is muffled. Many a hare 
 and rabbit had that weapon quietened. 
 
 " Nothing but rank poaching ! " some of our readers 
 will say ; " and a most unsportsmanlike proceeding." 
 I beg to state, however, that this occurred in a no- 
 man's locality, where all had right of common and 
 pasturage for stock. 
 
 In bygone times before the ground-game law was 
 passed small hillside farmers have been obliged to 
 leave their holdings, for the rabbits swarmed down 
 from the waste to the cultivated parts and simply 
 devoured the crops. Unless wild creatures are kept 
 in check by their natural enemies, or by man himself, 
 they will work sad mischief to all that he rears or
 
 60 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 cultivates. The wild rabbit of the waste lands is 
 nothing more or less than " pinwire varmint," as the 
 rustics say ; and only fit as food for the fox and bad- 
 ger, the different members of the weasel family, and 
 the birds of prey. One and all are most heartily 
 welcome to have him. The so-called wild rabbits of 
 a more toothsome sort, that are supplied to the mar- 
 kets, have in most cases some of the domesticated 
 rabbit's blood in their veins, which, with good food, 
 accounts for their greater size and superior edible 
 qualities. It is a common sight to see tame rabbits 
 black, white, grey, and sandy dotting about a war- 
 ren. The progeny from the tame and the wild ones 
 are the animals of the markets and the poulterers. 
 In the days I write of, the pinwire dotters were the 
 pest of the farmers. 
 
 The hills about Holmbury are well wooded : oak, 
 ash, fir, mountain-ash, the quicken of the woodmen, 
 are there. The undergrowth is in keeping with the 
 forest-trees ; junipers, heath, bramble, dogwood, and 
 alder, with the bracken and whortleberry plants that 
 cover the ground thickly mile after mile, give rare 
 cover and food to all wild creatures. The children, 
 too, pick vast quantities of "whorts," as they call
 
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 61 
 
 them, for sale. In some localities these are much 
 finer than in others : you will see some of the chil- 
 dren, more knowing than the rest, quit their compan- 
 ions and make for the warm moist slopes at the 
 foot of hills covered with a luxuriant growth of fern. 
 Under the fronds the whole ground is black with the 
 berries ; the youngsters just throw themselves down 
 and fill their baskets as they lie there. Vipers, or red 
 adders, as the bairns call them, are plentiful enough. 
 I know that from my own observation ; but I never 
 heard and I have made frequent inquiries on this 
 point of any woodland child or grown-up person that 
 had been really injured by one. Viper-oil adder-ile 
 you would find in all the woodmen's cottages. The 
 bottle containing it is always suspended by a leathern 
 thong fastened round its neck, just under the gun 
 that hangs above the fireplace. "And there they 
 must bide, without being meddled with," the children 
 will tell you ; " fur dad sez ef one on us meddles with 
 they, he'll give us a quiltin' as ull last us a week an' 
 he wud too." 
 
 This oil is most highly valued by them as a 
 sovereign remedy for many complaints. 
 
 " I wouldn't take two suvrins for that ere lot of
 
 62 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 ile," remarked a woodman to me once ; " it takes a 
 menjous lot o' adders tu git that lot o' ile frum ; an' 
 ye've got tu catch 'em fust." The oil was clear and 
 limpid it had the look of the best olive-oil. With a 
 little laudanum added to it, and briskly rubbed in 
 and about the part bitten, it is very efficacious. The 
 reason our forester's children do not get bitten is, 
 they know the habits of the creatures that surround 
 them as well as they do their own : their eyes and 
 ears have all the quickness of wild animals. They 
 know instantly if it is a bird, mouse, or reptile that is 
 moving ; and in the midst of their whort-picking you 
 hear some sturdy urchin yell out, " Roost up all on 
 ye ! there's a crawler handy, I hear un." 
 
 Three varieties of the same species, which I have 
 captured on these hills, I have minutely examined 
 when alive, to the no small wonderment of the forest- 
 folks. The process was a very simple one : as the 
 viper coiled for the stroke I dropped my straw hat 
 over him, hived him, as they said. Then placing 
 the toes of both boots on the sides of the hat rim, I 
 gently raised a small portion of it in front. When 
 the creature saw daylight, after that sudden plunge 
 into darkness, he at once very cautiously poked his
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 63 
 
 head out, whereupon I nipped him behind the head 
 with my finger and thumb. I fear, when I left those 
 charming localities, I went credited with many un- 
 canny qualities that I did not certainly possess. 
 
 When the sun had gone westward any one might 
 study the habits and haunts of that giant swallow, 
 the fern-owl or heave-jar. Fern-owls were as plenti- 
 ful as pigeons about a pigeon-cote. This neighbour- 
 hood suits them to perfection, both as regards food 
 and shelter, and for nesting purposes. The numbers 
 that visit certain counties must be very great. Here 
 alone, the whole forest hums with their spinning- 
 wheel-like song. Sometimes I have lain out of doors 
 three nights in the same week, watching their ways 
 and their means of living. The heather was my 
 couch, and a very fragrant and good one it makes. 
 
 Pitch Hill, Ewhurst Hill, Holmbury Hill, and 
 Leith Hill, at the time I lived in their neighbour- 
 hood, were full of water to their very summits. The 
 whole of the water-supply for the houses and offices, 
 when those red mansions were built, came from the 
 hills in pipes laid down, besides which there were 
 fine open - air swimming - baths conveniently near. 
 There is stone, too, of the most enduring quality
 
 64 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 enough, as the forest-folks were wont to say, to last 
 " for ever and a few days over." 
 
 Leith Hill much resembles Holmbury in the 
 general surroundings. Let any one who is fond of 
 wild life and scenery walk from Dorking to Cold- 
 harbour ; from there to Leith Hill ; and from the 
 Hill tower let him take the long green stripe down 
 to the entrance of the wood, and on to Pitland 
 Street. That will lead him to the base of Holmbury 
 Hill. Then let him climb the hill and come down 
 through the beautiful glade, with fir-woods on either 
 side, to Fellday, or the Fell of the Moor. From 
 Fellday he should walk to Abinger and look at its 
 quaint church, and the time-eaten stocks just outside 
 the churchyard gates. From Abinger he may wander 
 past Wotton, the home of the Evelyns, and on to 
 Westcott, on his way back to Dorking. He will 
 not soon forget such a day, and if he be a botanist 
 his case will not be empty. Should he prefer ento- 
 mological research, he can have his fling at moth, 
 butterfly, or beetle. On the stone-heaps from the 
 quarries, on or under the stones, there is insect-life 
 in innumerable varieties. For the lover of birds 
 there are plenty to observe still, although not so
 
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 65 
 
 many as in past times, for the simple reason that 
 most of the new race preserve strictly. The land 
 is their own to do as they please with ; but where 
 game is preserved, the keepers will tell you all var- 
 mints must be killed off. Now "varmints," as they 
 have it, include falcons, hawks, owls, ravens, crows, 
 rooks, magpies, jays, butcher-birds, and the poor 
 harmless goatsucker, the heave-jar or fern-owl, in 
 many cases. I was gravely informed by one author- 
 ity in the velveteen jacket that these "sucked cows 
 when they was asleep." I did not contradict him 
 his case was hopeless. 
 
 I am sorry to tell that I have seen the gable-end 
 of a dog-kennel covered with beautiful creatures, the 
 ornaments of the woodlands. Owls were of course 
 conspicuous by their numbers. Brown, white, long 
 and short eared owls were there, all spread out on 
 the gable - end. " A rare good show " the keeper 
 called it. 
 
 Yet the same individual told me his place was " run 
 over, an' stunk out, wi' rats and mice." When I told 
 him that I kept such varmints as companions, and 
 not only played with them but talked to them, and 
 gave them credit for having more brains and under- 
 E
 
 66 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 standing than some people I knew, it was too much 
 for him. In a perfect torrent of rude eloquence he 
 gave me his opinion about owls, and all fools o' folk 
 who kept such floppin' varmints. As his voice was 
 raised in his excitement, his retriever walked up just 
 to see if anything had gone wrong. Down came 
 the man's ash stick on the poor animal's ribs, with 
 some rough words to the effect that he'd send for 
 him when he wanted him, he waru't talking about 
 him nor yet to him. I suppose the blow relieved 
 the man's feelings. As for myself, I let him talk 
 himself dry, and then as it interested me to keep 
 on friendly terms with him I mildly suggested the 
 fact that the neat little country inn was quite handy. 
 
 Whilst he looked through various glasses of " Irish 
 with a slice of lemon," in which I kept him company, 
 his views on " owls and them as kept 'em " became 
 very much modified ; for when we parted he bade 
 me remember that "if any o' mine went off the 
 hooks he'd git me some more, either old uns or 
 young uris, fur they'd young uns very near all times 
 o' the year." 
 
 In this statement he was perfectly correct. 
 
 When my woodland friends found out that all
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 67 
 
 the time I could spare from my business was given 
 to looking at things, as they termed it, and making 
 pictures of some of them, the kind souls would have 
 made a perfect Noah's ark of my small dwelling. 
 I had, at times, to use no small amount of diplomacy 
 to avoid hurting their feelings by refusals to accept 
 certain birds or beasts. At last I was compelled 
 to tell them I had given up keeping things in the 
 house, and I sent all my stands and cages away. 
 Only a favourite brown owl was allowed to remain, 
 and he perched on my knee or shoulder, no matter 
 what time I came in of the day or the night. He 
 learned to know my footsteps, and would watch for 
 me like a dog. 
 
 For the last thirty years I have not used a gun ; a 
 good field-glass has taken its place. 
 
 Besides the birds I have mentioned as being found 
 on our hills, all the finches and the soft-billed birds 
 are well represented, blackbirds, song and missel 
 thrushes, ring-ousels at certain times more or less, 
 fieldfares and redwings, wild geese, wild ducks, heron, 
 woodcock, snipe and plover, black game, pheasants, 
 and partridges. The woodpecker family is in full 
 force : we have the green, and the black and white
 
 68 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 spotted woodpeckers, the greater and the lesser. 
 The nuthatch and the wryneck are here ; as for 
 the cuckoos, they are all about. 
 
 Leaving beautiful Ewhurst Hill, we come down 
 the long glade to Abinger. From here the road 
 takes us to those hills or downs called Hackhurst. 
 There the country has a different aspect, for the 
 soil is different, it is chalk land on that ridge. The 
 fine turf is merely the facing of it, if we may term 
 it so. Bird-life differs too on this side of the valley, 
 and it is not so varied in character. The birds you 
 see most frequently will be rooks, jackdaws, starlings, 
 pigeons, wood and stock pigeons, or stock -doves, 
 wheat-ears, and sometimes, not often, that small 
 representative of the noble bustard once so well 
 known on the South Down Hills the thick-knee 
 or great plover, the stone curlew. He does well 
 here, for most of the land is sheep pasture ; and 
 what with beetles, mice, frogs, and worms, to say 
 nothing of other small trifles, he lives well. He is 
 rarely shot, for he is one of the wariest birds in 
 existence, or at least in this district : his large eyes 
 tell you at once that he feeds by night as well as 
 by day. The fields that are cultivated, those on
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 69 
 
 the top of the hills, abound in flints ; in fact, the 
 farmers will tell you they grow flints, they are con- 
 tinually picking them off the ground and carrying 
 them away by waggon and cart loads. When the 
 thick-knee makes his home here, you may as well 
 try to find that oft-quoted needle in a haystack as 
 to find him ; he is an inveterate skulker. When 
 danger has threatened him, I have watched him 
 through a glass, with his head stretched out, and 
 his body squatted on the ground as closely as a 
 toad's. 
 
 On a large estate at the foot of one of our hills is 
 a deserted heronry. It has been forsaken for many 
 years. When the owners took possession, the grand 
 birds forsook it. I met one of the old squire's retain- 
 ers near the spot lately, and questioned him about 
 them. "Ah," said he, shaking his head mournfully, 
 " 'pears to me the good uns is all gone : things is all 
 changed, topsy-turvy like, an' the young uns don't 
 take after the old uns not a bit." 
 
 I like to wander there as the sun sinks, and to 
 look at the fine old firs where the herons once built 
 their nests. Some of the trees are far decayed, but 
 they still stand like sentinels. The road that once
 
 70 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 led to a noble house is now covered with turf; the 
 deer have given place to less noble game : where 
 they roamed, pheasants and rabbits run about There 
 is the water where the heron used to fish, nearly 
 choked with aquatic growth ; and there, in the dis- 
 tance, is the moor with its trout stream and tiny rills 
 as of old, where he got his feed of small trout ; but 
 the heron has gone, never, we fear, to return in any 
 numbers. Now and again one or two have revisited 
 the haunt of their ancestors, but they got shot for 
 so doing. Sometimes, when the setting sun flashes 
 on the trunks of those old trees, and lights up the 
 water that is left open of their old fishing-place, 
 when the mist begins to rise from the moorlands, I, 
 too, could wish that the old gentry we used to see 
 there so many years ago could come back once 
 more.
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 71 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 THE moorland rills, in which live the pigmy trout, 
 gathering force and volume, unite and become 
 streams. After running though the upland woods 
 they widen in the woodland meadows, forming ponds 
 which are nearly surrounded by copse growth. In 
 these, fine trout thrive and grow fat ; not the long- 
 bodied trout that live in the swift stream, but short 
 thick fellows, silvery in colour, red spots dappling 
 their bright sides. " They be hog-backed uns, an' 
 no mistake," said a rustic fisher, as I was passing 
 along the edge of the wood one evening. 
 
 This man was cutting extraordinary capers with 
 his heavy hob-nailed boots on the grass, threshing 
 away most vigorously at the same time with his hat.
 
 72 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 " Now then, Marksman," said I, that was the nick- 
 name he went by, " what's up ? Have you got St 
 Vitus's dance, or is it a wasp's nest you've stepped 
 into ? " 
 
 " I ain't got one nor yet t'other ; I'm gettin' 
 owlets." As he said this he held up a ghost moth 
 between his finger and thumb. Then he placed it in 
 his empty tobacco-box, in which were three or four 
 more of the same sort. 
 
 "That'll do fur to-night," he remarked. "Will 
 ye come ? " Then he produced from his pocket 
 a fishing-line wound round a short piece of hazel. 
 I nodded. 
 
 "Are ye going to bide here, or are ye coming in 
 the cover with me ? " 
 
 I chose to remain where I was, for from the open 
 side of the pond I could note all his proceedings, 
 which were always of an interesting nature. 
 
 From some brambles he pulled out a stick about 
 five feet long, forked at the end where it had been 
 cut. The end of the line was securely tied just 
 below the fork ; the rest of it was wound round the 
 outside of the fork, leaving about a foot of strong 
 gut hanging down ; to this a by no means small
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 73 
 
 hook was attached. Then from his tobacco-box he 
 pulled out one of his owlets, and, evidently knowing 
 well what he was about, he placed the moth. " I'm 
 agoing to wiggle fur 'em," said he. Then he made 
 his way into the cover, with such gentleness of move- 
 ment that I only knew of his whereabouts by seeing 
 him look over the splashed hazel bank of the pond 
 on the other side, the light throwing his shadow 
 behind him. Marksman was knowing in all details ; 
 but he had an original way of proceeding that always 
 had great fascination for me, and I learned many a 
 "wrinkle" from him. He very quietly unwound the 
 line by turning his forked stick the reverse way as 
 it neared the water, and I could see him gently 
 jerking it up and down to imitate the flight of the 
 insect. Then he let it drop on the water, close to 
 the bank, and gave his owlet a motion as if it were 
 struggling to rise from the pond, after falling in. 
 
 Another wiggle, and then came a sound, sock ! 
 The stick was raised, the line as tight as any harp- 
 string, and up the bank went a trout, being out of 
 sight in the most extraordinarily quick fashion. The 
 next moment, with a grin all over his face, Marks- 
 man held it up for inspection ; a real beauty it was.
 
 74 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 As silently as before he then moved on to another 
 place, where the performance was repeated with 
 equal success. 
 
 " I see one of they owlets drop in, one evenin' as 
 I wus looterin' round," said he. " I thought over it 
 fur a spell, an' since then I've found it act most 
 oncommon." 
 
 But luck changes. Marksman had only seen that 
 particular moth fall in, and when his owlets failed him 
 he was at a loss to know what to use next. Worms 
 or live bait the trout in that particular pond refused 
 entirely. Meeting him again on the moor one day, 
 I asked how his fishing was getting on. " Oh," 
 replied he, " I gi'n it up. I thought as I'd found 
 out a way to clear that thear pond, but 'tain't no 
 go arter all. I shell hev to wait till they owlets 
 cums round here agin." 
 
 Marksman," said I, " if I find you a kind of owlet 
 that will catch trout out of that pond, and last you 
 all the season up to running time, will you keep it 
 to yourself?" 
 
 " Now " 
 
 "There, that's all right give me your precious 
 tackle ; you don't leave that at home, I know."
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 75 
 
 " I wonders what noover ye be up tu now," he 
 observed, handing over his fishing-gear. 
 
 After a fresh whipping of the hook on to the 
 gut, I made a body from a new wine-bottle cork, 
 and securely fixed it on the hook fore and aft. In 
 it I put two small dark beads for the eyes. In 
 place of wings I whipped on the beautifully pencilled 
 tips of the feathers from the wings of the white owl. 
 " Use it just before the dark closes in," I said, in 
 giving the thing to Marksman. 
 
 He used it with good result. Many a fine trout 
 in that pond was taken by the strange insect, which, 
 when not in requisition, was religiously kept in a 
 domino-box in some cunningly contrived pocket of 
 his old velveteen jacket. No profane eye was 
 allowed to rest on that treasure, and from the date 
 of the unearthly insect's manufacture I rose many 
 inches in Marksman's estimation. It is still treasured 
 up, and when its owner has had a little over three 
 pints of ale he will tell the company that he has 
 " summat in a box as '11 fetch 'em out on it, when 
 it's dark." After another pint, he will state in the 
 most defiant manner, and perfectly unsolicited, " No, I 
 ain't a-goin' tu show it tu nobody, what du ye think ?
 
 76 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 No, nor yit tell who made it. No, I shan't!" his 
 voice rising to a perfect yell. Poor Marksman ! 
 
 There is plenty of water on both sides of the 
 valley belonging to the Hackhurst downs. The 
 streams run in different directions, part finding 
 their way to the Wey, the rest emptying them- 
 selves into the Mole. In these are certain pools 
 and ponds hidden in nooks and corners that are 
 full of fine fish. Before the property changed owners 
 I and many others were allowed to fish and shoot 
 there, but that is a thing of the past. The rod is 
 placed on one side now ; there are too many of 
 those unsightly square boards about, telling one that 
 any person attempting to catch anything the size of 
 a sprat will be prosecuted. Ay, ugly notice-boards 
 disfigure the stream and road sides, the beautiful 
 woods and the wild hillsides. Yet I do not remember 
 that the kindness and confidence of our old gentry 
 was ever abused. A simple intimation to keep away 
 from certain spots on and about the estates was 
 sufficient. 1 
 
 1 In those days, before so many railroads were open, crowds of trippers 
 were not able to overrun the beautiful country-side, tearing up prim- 
 roses, roots, and flowers, and carrying on a system of wholesale destruc- 
 tion wherever their profane hands and feet went.
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 77 
 
 "What are you young fellows about?" one old 
 squire would say ; " fishing, eh ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " That's all very well, but what kind of fish ? " 
 
 " Perch, roach, dace, and gudgeon, sir." 
 
 " Show me your baskets, and take your lines from 
 the water that I may see your baits. . . . Yes, yes, 
 quite right." 
 
 We lifted our caps to him as he turned to go 
 again, an act of politeness which the courteous old 
 gentleman returned instantly in kind. 
 
 " Let my trout alone don't go where they are ; " 
 that was the only restriction he placed on our move- 
 ments. We respected it always, for we liked and 
 honoured him well. 
 
 Dabchicks, or little grebes, bred in one spot, I 
 knew. The pool was not larger than a duck-pond, 
 but it was clear and deep, and full of fine green 
 weeds. I had never noticed any fish, particularly, 
 on account of the thickness of these. One evening 
 my companion was waiting for a shot at a dabchick 
 we had come for other game when a rise up in 
 the weeds made us put our guns quickly up to the 
 shoulder, thinking it was some water-bird diving ;
 
 78 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 but out jumped some fine roach, and a great pike 
 after them. He was one of the brightest, and for 
 his length the thickest, pike I had ever seen. We 
 looked at each other, dabchicks were forgotten, and 
 our only thought was how to get at the fish. What 
 to do we did not know, for if the pike ran into the 
 masses of weed a rod was useless, no clothes-prop 
 would have pulled him out. So we agreed to sleep 
 on it ; and during the night my friend had a happy 
 inspiration. Next morning he showed me the most 
 rough-and-ready contrivance that it has ever been 
 my lot to see. He had a large hank of light olive- 
 green cord, thin but very strong, such as you would 
 use to hang a good-sized picture by. To this form 
 of line two feet of wire was firmly lashed, and this 
 again was securely lashed whipped would by no 
 means express it to a double hook. The wire 
 was of the same kind and of equal thickness as 
 that used to catch hares with. As my companion 
 observed, " It would pull the very old one himself 
 out, if he got the hooks in his gullet." The next 
 business was to catch bait : this was easily done, 
 for large roach abounded in the stream close at 
 hand. After the bait had been fixed, my friend
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 79 
 
 took it in his hand and threw it, as he would have 
 done a stone, into the first open space between the 
 weeds near us ; the remainder of the picture-cord 
 lay on the top of the weeds. I had no faith in 
 the proceedings myself, the tackle being so very 
 rough, but my companion evidently had. Those 
 pike had surely never seen a line before ; they 
 must have been the most unsophisticated of the 
 pike family, for, before five minutes had passed 
 away, the picture - cord began to shoot over the 
 top of the weeds at a most rapid rate, and then 
 it stopped. " All right," said my friend ; " he's 
 pouching it. I shall give him ten minutes, and 
 then I'll tickle his gizzard." He did that with a 
 vengeance, jerking the pike sharply enough to pull 
 a donkey up to a standstill. The pike was so 
 alarmed and amazed, never having been served so 
 in his life before, that he sprang clean out of the 
 water like a trout, came down head first into a 
 mass of weeds, and buried himself in them like a 
 pig in straw. 
 
 " You've lost him ! " I cried. 
 
 " Not I," rejoined my friend ; " he's safe enough. 
 Come out of it ! " and with that he hauled a mass
 
 8o ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 of weeds ashore that would have overfilled a 
 bushel measure. When we parted the weeds, in 
 the centre of them was one of the most silvery, 
 thick 8-lb. pikes that we had ever seen or ever 
 shall see. 
 
 After that we found more pike in that secluded 
 bit of water, all of the same stamp and quality. 
 Numbers of them were hauled out by that happy 
 contrivance of picture- cord and snare -wire. We 
 two meet one another at times now, and no matter 
 what the topic of conversation may be, it is sure 
 soon to drift round to that lonely pool ; and it is 
 our united opinion that if we had allowed those 
 fat pike to remain there, they must infallibly have 
 died eventually of apoplexy. 
 
 From the stream that ran by this pond little rills 
 flowed through the lush water-meadows, which were 
 covered in their season with the king-cups, the yellow 
 iris, and many other plants that flourish in such 
 localities. 
 
 The rills were clear as crystal, having sandy 
 bottoms, about a foot in depth. Here loach of 
 large size were to be found in abundance ; six 
 inches in length they were, the finest baits pos-
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 81 
 
 sible for the pike and perch of the river Mole. I 
 have tried all the various baits there, but the very 
 best were the fine stone loaches from these rills. 
 Miller's - thumbs, bullheads, or bull - trouts, were 
 plentiful ; with them we did not interfere, although, 
 like the loach, they are excellent eating. If you 
 make a skeleton of the miller's -thumb, the head 
 looks curiously monkey-like. 
 
 Water-shrews had their home here. I have spent 
 hours in watching the habits of these little creatures. 
 Where the rills widened out into ditches the water- 
 rats, or water-voles, had their holes. Two varieties 
 I knew there the common brown vole and the 
 black water-vole. The latter is smaller than his 
 more common relative, and, when he is sitting on 
 the bank, looks like a small ball of dark velvet. 
 I saw one lately on the banks of the same small 
 ditch. 
 
 I have seen the pike, too, swim up that brook 
 in the way that the late Richard Jefferies observed 
 them in his own county. As a fellow field-naturalist, 
 I would pay my tribute of praise, and express my 
 perfect appreciation of the work of one of the most 
 minute and truthful observers that England has 
 F
 
 82 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 ever known. He has now solved those secrets of 
 nature, doubtless, that puzzled him here. As to 
 myself, I am at the present time nearer sixty than 
 fifty years of age; I enjoy first-rate health; my 
 eyesight, thank God ! is as keen as it was at twenty- 
 five ; and I am as capable of a twenty miles' trudge 
 over the moorlands as I was in the days of my 
 youth. From my childhood I have studied natural 
 life, but not for profit ; until a few years ago I 
 never wrote a line about what I knew or had seen 
 for the public eye to rest on. And so I feel compe- 
 tent, as one of nature's children, to give an opinion 
 as to the value of the work of my lamented fellow 
 naturalist, Richard Jefferies. 
 
 Let us clinib the hills once more from Hackhurst 
 downs on our way to Ranmore common. From 
 here a bridle-path passes in front of the mansion 
 of beautiful Denbies. We have one of the most 
 lovely views of woodland scenery that it is possible 
 for any one to look on. There is the whole length 
 of the Holmesdale valley, with the hills on either side 
 of it. We see mansions thickly dotted in all direc- 
 tions, where some years ago there was not a house 
 to be seen. Retracing our steps from this point,
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 83 
 
 and walking over the common and on to West- 
 humble, we find Box Hill fronting us. In spite of 
 the changes following in the wake of fresh bricks 
 and mortar, delightful remnants of what has been 
 are still to be found. One spot I often visit, a 
 large pool, a half-choked-up mill-pond, with a cur- 
 rent running through the middle of it, and bare ex- 
 panses of soft slub, where flag and iris, tasselled 
 grasses and rushes, and stunted willow growth, 
 flourish most luxuriantly. This pool must possess 
 some peculiar attraction for all the birds of passage 
 that affect such localities, either for purposes of 
 breeding or for food ; for here, in their migrating 
 seasons of spring and autumn, come curlew, plover, 
 dunlins these, by the way, have a great portion of 
 their full breeding plumage about them sandpipers, 
 the common or willy wicket, and the rarer green 
 sandpiper. Geese come at longer intervals, ducks 
 are common, teal visit it now and again, terns fre- 
 quently, and gulls that, from some reason or another 
 only known to themselves, are tempted to stay their 
 flight for a time and to rest here a treacherous 
 enough resting-place to some of them. Snipe, also, 
 visit the place wisps of them zigzag up at times,
 
 84 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 according to the season ; and the heron comes to 
 see what he can bayonet with that bill of his. 
 Thirty - five years ago that pond and the streams 
 that fed it teemed with fish of all kinds ; the perch 
 and the pike ran very large there. It was not to 
 be wondered at, taking the vast supply of food into 
 consideration. I have seen shoals of young carp 
 swim up a quiet part of one of the feeding-streams 
 and down again. As to the roach and gudgeon and 
 the loaches, their name was, in truth, legion. 
 
 There was a tradition about the pond in connec- 
 tion with a secret outlet said to run from it into the 
 water-meadows. In most traditions there is a grain, 
 at least, of truth. An individual I knew well he is 
 still alive, although sadly grizzled and battered with 
 the wear and tear of a very nomadic way of living 
 who was of an inquiring turn of mind, set to work 
 to solve the problem of the exact whereabouts of 
 that secret outlet. He found it, but he kept the 
 knowledge of it to himself. 
 
 This man dealt with the miller for siftings, pea- 
 meal, and other matter for the fattening of his 
 porkers ; so that he generally had one sack, if not 
 more, in his house, with the names of the miller and
 
 AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS, 85 
 
 his mill marked on it in full. Not only was the 
 outlet discovered by him, but he opened it and let 
 out the water. So cleverly did he manage this, that 
 by the morning the pond was full again to the edge, 
 without anything to tell how the affair had been 
 contrived. I was rarely in bed after four o'clock in 
 the morning nine months out of the twelve, and on 
 that particular morning my work took me past the 
 mill-pond at my usual early hour. To my astonish- 
 ment I found the water-meadow nearest the pond 
 turned into a shallow lagoon, in which great pike 
 and other fish were rushing about like rockets, mak- 
 ing the golden tops of the king-cups nod about in a 
 most extraordinary fashion. I suppose it was very 
 wrong of me, but how I laughed and rubbed my 
 hands in glee to see the fun and the sight of that 
 harlequin-like fellow, with his trousers tucked up to 
 his knees, a " three-speened fork," as he termed it, 
 in his hand, as busy as a bee in a tar-pot, harpoon- 
 ing the fish with the greatest ease. He had some 
 fine specimens of pike already laid out on the grass 
 when I arrived. As I stood there enjoying the 
 scene, who should appear but the village constable 
 returning from his beat of night duty. Nothing
 
 86 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 daunted, Harlequin saluted him with a cheery good 
 morning. 
 
 " What game is this, then ? " queried the guardian 
 of the peace and of the place. 
 
 " A werry nice un I calls it," replied Harlequin, as 
 he harpooned another pike, that I judged at least to 
 be twelve pounds in weight. " You see," he con- 
 tinued, "he," jerking his thumb in the direction of 
 the mill-house, " keeps a lot of ducks, as you knows 
 well ; an' he's lost a lot o' the young uns lately with 
 these 'ere jacks, so he comes tu me rather late last 
 night, an' says he to me, ' I shell let some o' the 
 water off, quite unbeknown to anybody, some o' 
 they jacks is sure tu find their way out into the 
 medder: yo' git up early, as soon as 'tis light, an' 
 settle some on 'em off.' He says that tu me, an' 
 I'm a-doin' of it. An' he give me one o' his sacks 
 fur to put 'em in ; then, says he, if anybody cums 
 an' interferes with yer, they'll see as ye're doin' it 
 fur me. An' all the jacks as yo' settles yo' can 
 keep fur yerself! But, bless ye! what should I du 
 with such a lot ? Now, look here ; ye just take this 
 here big un home with yer ye'll find it fine 
 eatin' ! "
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 87 
 
 The guardian of the night accepted that splendid 
 pike, and marched off a happy man the pike on 
 one side, balanced by his staff on the other. As I 
 noted the broad tail of the fish flopping against his 
 leg from the inside of his coat, "Pat Haggerty's 
 wedding" popped into my head 
 
 " Where the bride she was dressed in 
 
 A short-bodied gown, 
 Jist made in the fashion, 
 The tail hangin' down." 
 
 As soon as the constable was out of sight, we both 
 roared with laughter. 
 
 To this day the real state of the case is not known, 
 nor where that very mysterious outlet is. The re- 
 ceiver of the pike has passed over to the majority 
 long ago, and the miller was never the wiser. I kept 
 poor Harlequin's secret, as I have done many an- 
 other of the sort in my day. 
 
 Of all our Surrey mills, pleasantest to me are the 
 Woodland valley mills, shut out as they are from all 
 sounds of traffic cool and quiet spots surrounded 
 by trees. A flight of old brick steps led down from 
 the mill-head into the garden, and then you saw the 
 miller's house, one I often visited and rested in.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 The dusty outside look did not extend to the in- 
 terior of the house, for the low-ceilinged rooms with 
 beams running across them were kept in perfect 
 order. The furniture was of old - fashioned ma- 
 hogany, solid and good ; and the miller and his 
 wife were a grave kindly couple, quite in keeping 
 with their surroundings. He was not given to much 
 expression in the matter of religion, and he did not 
 go to church so regularly as his wife, a quiet staid 
 woman, who might be seen walking through the 
 beech - woods two miles to church every Sunday 
 morning. She had a profound respect for the clergy 
 and all relating to the Established Church ; he had 
 a hearty regard and admiration for his landlord, the 
 squire. He had stronger opinions about fishing than 
 he had on religious questions. I remember his find- 
 ing a fellow fishing with the spoon-bait for pike, and 
 the man was quickly made to wind up and go, for 
 he would have no dumb creatures tortured ; one 
 hook, he said, was quite enough. With respect to the 
 mill-stream proper, independently of the mill-pool, 
 his ideas and sentiments were of the most conserva- 
 tive nature. The trout were for the squire and the 
 squire's friends only. Even to hint at a day's pos-
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 89 
 
 sible fishing was enough to get you excommunicated 
 by the miller. No keeper ever watched his coveys 
 of partridges with more jealous care than that miller 
 did the trout that lived in his portion of the stream. 
 Yet he was once tricked out of a day's fishing by a 
 supposed clergyman, compared with whom my poor 
 Harlequin was a saint. I shall never forget the 
 wrath and disgust with which he related the story 
 to me. I give it as the miller told it, a few days 
 after it occurred. 
 
 "Just after breakfast there came a rap at the door, 
 which mother answered. Then she told me that 
 there was a strange gentleman, a very respectable- 
 looking clergyman, inquiring for me. I went out, 
 and he at once held out his hand, saying, 'Good 
 morning, Mr Dash, good morning to you ; I must 
 
 introduce myself. I am the vicar of G , and 
 
 my old college friend, your worthy and esteemed 
 landlord, wrote me an invitation to come and have 
 a day's fishing over here. He knows my weakness 
 for the gentle sport, and he said I was to come to 
 you, with his compliments, for instruction where it 
 was best to go, and about other matters concerning 
 the limits of his water.' He said, too, as how he
 
 90 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 was going to dine with the squire that same evening, 
 and that he should then be able to give an account 
 of his success through the day. 
 
 " So I left the mill to my chap, and showed the 
 stranger all the best places where I knew the heavy 
 fish lay, and then left him to it. About ten o'clock 
 I went to see how he was getting on. The fellow 
 could fish, no doubt about that. I looked at him 
 as he threw, and I thought to myself, if all parsons 
 is like you they're uncommon active with trout, 
 whatever they may be with men : he'd got eight or 
 nine good ones already. 
 
 " ' You see,' says he, ' thanks to you, my good 
 friend, I'm labouring in a fruitful vineyard. The 
 flesh is weak, though, this morning, and in the 
 excitement caused by the prospect of a day's fish- 
 ing, and seeing my old college friend, I omitted to 
 bring the needful refreshment with me. Do you 
 think there is a possibility of anything being pro- 
 cured in the neighbourhood any good inn near, to 
 which I could go ? ' 
 
 " I told him there was none nearer than two miles 
 away, but that he would be heartily welcome to 
 anything there might happen to be in our house :
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 91 
 
 mother has a weakness for parsons, you know, so 
 I was all right there. 
 
 "'Do you say home-brewed, my dear friend?' 
 he went on ; ' never since my boyhood have I 
 tasted that fine drink of Old England. I feel my 
 youth come back at the very name of it. Yes ; 
 gladly will I accept of your hospitality ; ' and a 
 lot more stuff of the same sort about lines in 
 pleasant places and the like. Well, mother laid 
 the cloth in the best room, and she even put her 
 own best bib and tucker on, in honour of the 
 clerical gentleman. He washed his hands, and 
 in he came ; looked it over, and then said a grace. 
 After that he set to work, praised our beer, called 
 it nectar for the immortals, emptied the jug, three 
 pints it held, and praised mother's bread and 
 cheese too. He talked us right over, both of us 
 asked us if we went to church. I told him mother 
 did, wet or fine. Then he got on his legs and 
 gave us a bit of a sermon on true religion and 
 outward forms, and the grand old Church of Eng- 
 land, finishing up with Christian charity, which 
 was, he said, just what he had had from us that 
 day. ' On my return to my vicarage/ he said, ' I
 
 92 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 will at once send, for your acceptance, one of the 
 
 most costly Bibles that the town of G can 
 
 supply; and may peace and plenty rest on this house 
 for evermore.' Mother cried a bit, he brought it all 
 out so solemn like. 'Now, my kind friends,' he 
 finished up with, 'I am but a humble shepherd of 
 the flock, but you have my blessing. I will now 
 proceed to fish again.' There was some more stuff 
 about the partner of my joys, and he trusted of few 
 sorrows, and then he took his leave. 
 
 " I went with him up-stream, telling him not to 
 fish in the other water, and then we shook hands. 
 As he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face, 
 out came a short, dirty clay -pipe, a regular pot- 
 house pipe, not even such a one as you and me 
 might use. That struck me curious like. ' I'll 
 watch you, my clerical gentleman, a bit,' I said to 
 myself, and instead of going home I slipped round 
 another way. Well, he was over on the other 
 ground, where he'd been told not to go, like a shot, 
 and had a fine one from there, quick. Then I 
 showed myself, and told him he'd no right there. 
 ' It's all right, my friend,' said he ; ' the owner of 
 this property is also a friend of mine. I will leave
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 93 
 
 the fish at his door as I pass, on my way to the 
 Hall.' 
 
 " Said I, ' I'm going that road myself, and I will 
 carry it for you.' 
 
 " ' No, no, my dear friend. I could not let it be 
 a burden to you, especially after your great hospi- 
 tality to me.' 
 
 "That did not quite satisfy me, but I let him 
 start, and then followed him up. He gave me the 
 double : he did not go the house road, so I made 
 for the way to the station, where a man told me 
 he had just met a parson running along, full trot. 
 He was not in the station, and I made for the 
 public. There I found our clerical humbug sitting 
 down, drinking grog, that same clay - pipe in his 
 mouth ; and as I live he was actually singing, ' Catch 
 'em alive, oh ! catch 'em alive ! ' 
 
 " He could not see me where I stood in the bar 
 he was inside the parlour. ' I'll catch you alive just 
 now, my gentleman,' I said, and I waited for him to 
 come out into the street. There I fixed him. 
 
 " ' You canting villain ! ' I cried, ' what do you 
 mean by this swindle ? ' 
 
 " Looking me full in the face, he said, ' My dear
 
 94 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 friend, permit me to suggest that you are labouring 
 under some strange delusion. I am afraid that 
 you have somewhat overstepped the bounds of pru- 
 dence by too free indulgence in intoxicating liquor. 
 Allow me to go my way in peace.' 
 
 " That so riled me that I took off my coat ; he 
 bolted, I after him. He could run, but so could I ; 
 and just as he was turning into the station he had 
 to accept a little more of my hospitality in the shape 
 of a kick that heaved him off the pavement. Then 
 I left him." 
 
 " And what did mother say ? " I asked, when the 
 miller had finished his story. 
 
 " Why, it made her that mad and cantankerous, 
 she did not go to church for some weeks, but took 
 to the little chapel instead. She's got over it now 
 though, but I ain't." 
 
 On the borders of a trout stream, close to a farm, 
 I know a spot well where a vixen littered that was 
 well tended by Master Reynard. Very soon after 
 the cubs had done sucking, twenty-five ducks were 
 missing from the farm. They had gone down to the 
 stream, and never returned again. So close was
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 95 
 
 the earth to a public footpath, that persons out for 
 a stroll used to stop and watch the vixen and her 
 cubs at play. 
 
 One morning one of the cubs was found dead, close 
 to the earth. From certain signs on the ground round 
 about him, there could not be the least doubt that 
 some person or persons unknown had committed 
 the awful crime of fox-murder. It might have been 
 done by way of a gentle hint to Master Reynard 
 and his family that it would be well to leave the 
 remainder of the ducks alone. 
 
 Although the fox has grace of sanctuary allowed 
 him by some for their own purposes, yet he has ever 
 been a bone of contention : he has had many a 
 curse heaped on his head, and has been the cause 
 of more bickerings and ill - feeling among certain 
 classes than any other of our wild creatures. 
 
 If only the same protection had been awarded 
 to the badger, it would be well for our farmers, 
 large and small. May he long have his home on 
 our Surrey hillsides. I confess to a great weakness 
 for this frolicsome bear-like little creature. 
 
 One morning last summer (1890), I was out for 
 a stroll through the woods, when a man hailed me
 
 96 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 from the door of a cottage that stood just on the 
 outskirts of one of them. He told me he had got 
 a queer critter that had come to his garden, and 
 to his mind it was very like a little pig in fact, 
 " fust off he reckoned it was one o' his young snor- 
 kers hed got out. He's gone to his home now," he 
 added ; " it's close handy to my garden. About 
 seven of an evenin' he cums up reg'lar ; I be mortal 
 cur'ous about it can ye tell us what it is ? " 
 
 At about seven o'clock I made my way gently 
 up to the edge of the man's garden, and it was not 
 long before the " snorker-like critter " made its ap- 
 pearance. He seemed to have no fear he had 
 evidently never been disturbed since he first made 
 his home close to ; and had he not been attracted 
 by the grunts of the cottager's young snorkers, his 
 proximity would never have been suspected. As 
 it was, he gambolled about among the fern in the 
 full joy of his nature, perfectly fearlessly a strange 
 combination of the bear and the pig in all his move- 
 ments. If you have only seen the badger in a 
 zoological collection, you have no idea what the 
 creature is when he enjoys perfect liberty. After 
 eating something he had rooted up, our friend
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 97 
 
 dashed down into the open meadow adjoining the 
 wood. 
 
 " What in the name o' wonder be it ? " asked the 
 man. 
 
 " A badger, and a fine fellow too." 
 
 "Will he du any mischief to the crap in the 
 garden ? " 
 
 " Not he," I replied. 
 
 "Then I shan't meddle with un. I likes to see 
 un cut his capers. Now what do he live on ? " 
 
 " Mice, beetles, snails, and wasps' nests that he 
 digs out." 
 
 " What wapses ! he's a good un. Cuss them 
 things ! they du work my fruit. Anything else do 
 he eat?" 
 
 "Yes, mushrooms." 
 
 " Do he ? he wunt hev 'em all, then, ef he stops 
 here till they cums out." 
 
 " He will kill and eat hedgehogs too." 
 
 "Then he's a right good un. I shan't meddle 
 with he." 
 
 For reasons of my own I did not tell our friend 
 that the creature would also eat rabbits. I knew 
 the man had the privilege of catching all that visited 
 G
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 his ground. Nor did I warn him that his pullets 
 might fare badly if one of them happened to stray 
 near the badger's quarters when he was hungry. In 
 my pursuit of natural history studies, I have found 
 it often best not to enter into any subject too min- 
 utely with the unlearned. One is apt to be the loser 
 by so doing. " Live and let live " is my motto. 
 
 After interviewing the badger I inspected his 
 home : it was a very pleasant and secure one, under 
 the roots of a clump of firs, on a sandy knoll, within 
 one minute's walk of our friend's back-door. The 
 children had noticed it first, and told their father 
 about a little strange pig they had run after. This 
 proves that it is only when driven by persecution 
 that wild creatures fear man. 
 
 Polecats, stoats, and weasels are now anything but 
 common among us. They do certainly exist in 
 remote spots, but not in the numbers I can remember 
 they did years ago. The capture or killing of the 
 largest member of the tribe the marten excepted 
 is a very rare circumstance now. If the present 
 exportation of stoats and weasels to the colonies 
 continues 73. 6d. and 53. are offered for each live 
 specimen for the purpose of exterminating the
 
 FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 99 
 
 rabbits that were foolishly introduced there, we shall 
 suffer from a plague of rats and mice. Stoats and 
 weasels kill enormous numbers of these, only fof 
 the sake of their blood. 
 
 To return to the point we left, near the valley 
 mill-pond. As you pass over Box Hill you come 
 to Headley Walton and Epsom heaths or downs, 
 the crest of these hills. From this line of country 
 you begin to near the great metropolis: you see 
 now far too much brickwork about to call it wild 
 scenery, although the hills are still near. Primitive 
 nature in her luxuriance must be sought farther 
 afield, in the region I have tried faintly to indicate.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 
 
 /. The Woodland Mole. 
 
 THE sullen Mole the burrowing Mole the winding 
 Mole such are the titles that have been given to our 
 river : but there is one more fitting than any of these, 
 and that is the woodland Mole. Go where you will 
 along its course, woodlands surround you and it. 
 For thirty years I have been familiar with the river 
 the whole length of it from close to its source to 
 where it finally empties itself into the Thames near 
 Hampton Court. 
 
 Those who only know it near the town of Dorking 
 have probably noted nothing particularly striking 
 about it : to them it may appear only a sluggish run 
 of water overshadowed by fine trees which grow on
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 
 
 and about the banks, and in the meadows through 
 which it passes. Only those who have roamed with 
 rod and gun, by crossways and paths unknown to, 
 and unheard of by, the general public, can tell the 
 beauties of the woodland Mole, as it winds its way past 
 mills and farm homesteads, through meadows and park 
 lands now and again opening out in broad reaches, 
 then lost to sight for a time in thicket and tangle. 
 
 In years past I had permission to wander along its 
 banks, and to fish there in places which were closed 
 to the general public. The river is now still more 
 strictly closed, 1 with the exception of the public paths 
 and the highroads which run over and along it. More 
 is the pity : all things change, however, and with 
 fresh owners fresh regulations are made. After all, 
 the ground is their own, and they have perfect right 
 to do what they please with it. 
 
 One spot, beautiful both to artist and angler, I 
 
 1 There has recently been litigation concerning the right of the pub- 
 lic to fish and row in the lower reaches of the river Mole between Cob- 
 ham and Esher, but that does not affect the part of which our paper 
 treats. A gentleman who owned adjacent land got the benefit of a 
 grant from the Crown of the bed of the river itself, and barred the pas- 
 sage with a chain. This a proprietor of boats for hire broke down as 
 often as it was set across.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 have visited often ; sometimes with sketch-book in 
 hand, but far oftener with the rod, for it was once a 
 perfect resort for the angler. A trout stream ran 
 there, through a moor covered with all kinds of moor- 
 land vegetation. Oh the joy of that pure trout 
 stream, when one had a pliant rod and the finest 
 line that it was possible to procure ! The fish were 
 not large ; it was a rare thing to get one over a 
 pound, and most of them were only half that weight. 
 But such beauties ! Plump and well shaped, gold 
 and white, with crimson spots ; and when hooked, as 
 mettlesome as game-cocks. Ten feet or so the 
 stream was at the widest parts, in others only three 
 or four ; the sides in many places were covered in 
 with low alder and willow brush ; and standing in the 
 clear water, or dip, dip, dipping into it, were the 
 sedges. Old alder and willow stumps had rotted 
 there, and over them the river ran in miniature water- 
 falls and whirlpools. About these stumps were the 
 favourite holds for trout ; there the water was deep. 
 When such fish as minnows wriggled over, or insects 
 dropped off the sedges, the little swirl carried them 
 round to the sides, where the trout made short work 
 of them.
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 103 
 
 Now and then some half-pounder would rush up 
 the little fall, and turn again, showing his bright 
 sides to perfection, a most tantalising sight, even 
 with the rod in your hand. Seeing a fish is not 
 catching him : there is a wide difference between 
 looking at him in the water and seeing him in your 
 basket. 
 
 The orthodox method of capturing trout is with 
 the fly, natural or artificial. I am a sceptic as to 
 the success of this in many cases, having tried both 
 sorts on this stream with very exasperating results. 
 In the first place, it was a jerky little stream, and 
 it twisted about here, there, and everywhere, accord- 
 ing to the rift in the spongy moor. And then the 
 trout did not take kindly to flies, at least not those 
 on the angler's line. It is so sometimes ; they will 
 not take the fly in a dashing style, and, as a natural 
 consequence, your fish is only just touched in the 
 lip. Up he springs, as though he intended to leave 
 the stream for good and all ; but he alters his mind, 
 goes down head first, darts under his rotten stump, 
 and rubs the hook out of his lip quick. Your rod 
 straightens, your line comes back to you, and your 
 trout is gone. You may move on to the next likely
 
 104 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 spot after that, and think matters over calmly, if 
 you can. 
 
 We think the matter over somehow, and it ends 
 in our laying down the rod and lighting the pipe. 
 Fishing is done with for a time, and we will find 
 out what their food, their principal food, is. The 
 problem is soon solved. They have caterpillars, 
 grubs, and other creeping things from the low alder 
 and willow growth, and the bogland worms. It is 
 a favourite pitch for snipe just here. The miller 
 knows that well ; never does he miss coming to 
 the trout stream after the first frosts have touched 
 things. And many worms must get into the water 
 one way or another, particularly when the little 
 rills from the ploughed lands run into the stream. 
 So we decide to give up the fly in favour of the 
 worm. We have some with us, bright, lively red 
 worms for we intended to try for perch as well as 
 for trout. Shifting our tackle, and baiting with a 
 nice worm, we very cautiously approach the bank, 
 keep out of sight, and throw sideways up the stream, 
 just above a little fall. The worm drops over 
 naturally ; there is a tug-tug, and we have him 
 no mistake about it this time ; no amount of danc-
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 105 
 
 ing and somersault-throwing will get that hold loose, 
 and after two or three turns he is landed on the 
 grass a good half-pounder. 
 
 As we come back to the mill-pool we pick up 
 another, nearly the same size, and feel contented ; 
 for the stream is a short one, on the miller's land 
 at least. The trout do not care for the pond, as 
 there pike abound. Turning a bend, we are in front 
 of the pond, and the old house and mill : both lie 
 behind its bank, low down, sleeping in the sun. 
 
 The pond is fringed round with rush and flag, 
 willows and alders of low growth the haunt of the 
 heron, and the home of the moor-hen and the rail. 
 Generations of millers have lived here ; a silvery 
 tint, the flour-dust of many years, has settled on 
 it ; the very slabs and tiles on the roof, even the 
 chimney-stacks, are grey. Noble elms at the back, 
 close to the mill-yard, throw the old buildings out 
 in fine relief: it is a place to lull one to rest a very 
 sleepy man's hollow, where poet or artist might 
 dream the days away. There is no noise of traffic 
 to and fro only the rumble of the miller's carts 
 as they occasionally come in and go out, and the 
 soothing click-click-clack of the old mill-wheel. The
 
 106 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 great attraction to me was the flood-gate hole, with 
 its grey timbers and flooring of massive slabs. The 
 walls on one side were composed of stones built up 
 without any regularity, as was the fashion long ago, 
 just as they had come to hand. The mortar had 
 crumbled, leaving cracks where ferns and mosses of 
 many kinds had taken root and flourished dipping 
 their fronds into the water, and swaying to and fro, 
 as little streams trickled from the sluice - gates. 
 There, too, were lichens yellow, white, and grey. 
 Dragon-flies darted hither and thither over the pool, 
 ever ready to devour any insect that might come in 
 their way. Wasp, bee, or butterfly no matter which 
 makes portion of a meal for them. Even Lord 
 Hornet himself is not safe from their powerful jaws. 
 The spot is a famous one for perch ; they dearly 
 like old walls and timbers, for in them they find 
 two things necessary for their wellbeing food and 
 shelter. There is a vast amount of insect life in 
 the cracks of those lichen-covered and moss-grown 
 walls, as well as water-snails that cling and cluster 
 upon the submerged stones. 
 
 Even as we look over the old flood-gate rails, we 
 see a shadowy form rise up from below, and a fine
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 107 
 
 perch, with all his spines raised, and his red fins 
 working, dashes at a beetle that has tumbled off a 
 fern-leaf, and is kicking and spinning round on his 
 back, in vain efforts to raise himself from the water. 
 One gulp, and Mr Perch vanishes again in the same 
 warlike manner in which he made his appearance. 
 That sight has roused our destructive inclinations 
 to the utmost ; the top joint of the rod is altered, 
 for he fights to the last, and he is a good fish. His 
 mouth is a wide one, so two nice fat worms will suit 
 him. All being ready, the bait is dropped into the 
 run of the sluice, and carried round by the current 
 to the side of the old wall. Bob, bob, bob, goes the 
 egg-shaped cork which we have as float ; and then 
 it is lost sight of he has taken it nicely, and now 
 we have him, but not on the bank. He has a hole 
 somewhere in that wall where he lives. To prevent 
 his reaching this, we give a little gentle force ; the 
 rod bends to it and he does not like it, for he makes 
 a rush and springs from the water, showing what a 
 fine fellow he is, barred like a zebra. Again he 
 dives for deep water, and we wake him up once 
 more. A sharp turn or two, his white belly shows, 
 and we land him on the moss-covered edge of the
 
 io8 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 mill-pool. He will weigh a good pound and a half: 
 there are many, to our knowledge, in this very pool 
 that would scale over two pounds ; but these very 
 ancient individuals are most careful, and are well 
 acquainted with the wily and deceitful ways of those 
 who fish for them. From half a pound to a pound is 
 the nicest size for table purposes. After catching a 
 couple more, about half a pound each, we leave the 
 mill-pool, and cross the wooden bridge that spans 
 the stream where it empties itself into the Mole. 
 
 Would that I could do justice to that bit of water ! 
 Picture to yourself shallows and quiet holes under 
 the banks, the moss-grown stones visible through 
 the clear water. Here and there are sandy spaces 
 where the gudgeon swim to and fro, coming to their 
 stronghold in the hole under the roots of the old 
 willow. The trees on both sides of the stream are 
 like the elms at the back of the mill, fine-grown trees. 
 
 The elms are the beginning of the trees that stand 
 on each side of the sparkling water. Oaks, elms, 
 ash - trees, and willows, intermingled, shade the 
 stream without closing it in, so that there is good 
 fishing room. 
 
 A dozen or so of gudgeon will be all we care
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 109 
 
 about ; they are rightly named fresh-water smelts. 
 This particular stream is noted for very fine ones : 
 it is a good food-stream, and there is a vast differ- 
 ence in waters, as regards this ; in some the fish 
 are small, owing to the scarcity of nourishment. 
 For one thing, this one is well sheltered ; and insect 
 life, in one shape or another, is abundant. The 
 gudgeon, being a bottom feeder, grubs away at 
 all the small creatures that are to be found in so 
 favourable a locality. Bright flashes of sunlight 
 come through the foliage and the tree-trunks ; on 
 the sandy places close to the edge the beautiful 
 yellow wagtails are daintily tripping and pecking 
 at the insects. On one of the willow-branches that 
 nearly dips into the water a kingfisher is perched, 
 his head cocked knowingly on one side, waiting 
 for a fish of the right size to come near him. As 
 we move on, a bird shoots off from some stones 
 and pebbles. It is the summer snipe of the miller 
 and his son properly speaking, the common sand- 
 piper. Not that it is common about here ; he is 
 so called to distinguish him from his near relative, 
 the green sandpiper, which bird I have seen in the 
 same locality.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 To return to our gudgeon, however, we make 
 alterations in our bait, and come to their feeding- 
 ground, or speaking as a fisherman their swim. 
 All being ready, we rest the rod on a bough and 
 cut a long stick, with which, a few yards above, just 
 round a bit of a bend, we poke about, vigorously 
 but quietly, near the bank, so as to thicken the 
 water. This drifts down to the gudgeon's swim ; 
 food comes with it, and the fish make for that. 
 For about twenty minutes we are busy, and then 
 we tackle up, having secured a dozen and a half 
 beauties not a bad day's sport, as it is only five 
 o'clock, so the afternoon is yet young. 
 
 Our way home will take us by the side of the 
 Mole, which we reach by crossing a long meadow. 
 There the scene is completely changed ; sullen 
 stretches of deep water alternate with shallows, 
 which are fringed with sedges, huge water- docks, 
 bulrushes, and various water -tangle overshadowed 
 by great trees, principally oaks, whose twisted roots 
 are in many places in the water. They stood farther 
 away at one time, but year after year the river when 
 flooded cuts and undermines, so that the banks at 
 last give way, and the trees come into the river.
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 
 
 Hundreds of rills, drains, and little streams run 
 into the Mole in all directions, mile after mile ; 
 gullies run through meadows, ploughed lands, and 
 thickets, eight and ten feet deep they are, and in 
 many places more. Their sides are a tangled net- 
 work of roots and stubs, with a dribbling stream of 
 water running at the bottom, crossed here and there 
 by wooden bridges heavily planked two or three 
 planks wide, as the case may be, firmly butted on 
 each side ; whilst the rails are of a stoutness that 
 does not seem called for at least so the stranger 
 might think, looking at them in the bright summer 
 time. If he chanced to be there when the autumn 
 rains come down, he would take a different view of 
 the matter; for the water comes off the hills and 
 the clay-lands with a rush, filling the gullies, and 
 covering the rustic bridges up to the top rails 
 carrying all before it with a roaring rush, and flood- 
 ing all the woodland meadows. Any one getting 
 into the river then would be drowned to a certainty, 
 for he would be inextricably entangled in the net- 
 work of roots. 
 
 One morning, when I had business of immediate 
 importance to attend to, my path led me along and
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 across the Mole, and the river was in flood. For 
 more than a mile I splashed through on the high- 
 road till I got to the ford where a bridge was. The 
 way -pole told plainly, by the marks on it which 
 were under water, that crossing here was out of 
 the question. I knew a place farther up where 
 the ground was higher, so getting through a hedge, 
 I made for it. There the water was within a foot 
 of the top rail. In the meadow four farm-labourers 
 were standing close to the edge of the water, and 
 I asked one of them if this was the only place where 
 I could cross ? 
 
 " What do 'ee mean by crass ? Ye wunt crass 
 over there, I reckuns no, thet ye wunt; it's im- 
 possible." 
 
 " Are you waiting to cross ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, we be ; an' we will wait, if 'tis fur a week, 
 afore we goes over there. Do 'ee think as we 
 wants to be drownded? Why, a hoss couldn't go 
 over there." 
 
 " Well, I must, though, some way or other." 
 
 " Don't 'ee act the goat now ; 't wud be sheer fule- 
 hardness an' temtin' Pruvedunce ter try it." 
 
 " Can I go back the way I have come, then ? "
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 
 
 " No, yer can't, fur the water have riz t'other way 
 now ; yer can't git back agin, more can't we. We 
 means bidin' here till it falls agin, if we stays all 
 day an' night too; so ye'll hev ter bide with us I 
 reckuns." 
 
 " If that is the case, I am going over it if the 
 water reaches up to my neck, and it will not do 
 that" 
 
 Taking off my boots and slinging them round my 
 neck, I made for the bridge, being confidently as- 
 sured by the four worthy fellows that "they wus 
 goin' ter stand there an' see 'ee drownded, fur none 
 o' us wud go thru that 'ere water fur a gowd watch es 
 big es a fry-pan." 
 
 Making for the bridge, I found the water was only 
 about three feet deep, but it was bitterly cold, and 
 rushing over the bridge like a mill-race. Feeling for 
 the bottom rail with my foot, I grasped the top 
 rail and worked my way gingerly across the four 
 croakers on the meadow bank roaring at me, as I 
 slowly proceeded, that they "wus goin' ter stand 
 there an' see me drownded, they wus." 
 
 When I was safely over and on dry ground, I 
 told them to come over, assuring them there was no 
 H
 
 114 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 danger about it, and adding that they were losing 
 time, and money too, where they were. However, 
 they not only took my suggestions in ill part, but 
 passed observations on myself and my doings in 
 anything but polite terms. As a parting salute, the 
 spokesman of that obstinate four roared out, " Yer 
 doan't belong ter these 'ere parts : ye're a fule, a 
 reg'lar downright fule, an' ye'll be drownded now, 
 afore night, see if 'ee ain't ! " 
 
 This volume of water flooding the river Mole 
 makes the banks in parts, where it has hollowed 
 them out underneath, most dangerous for a stranger 
 to stand on. In many spots there is only a thin 
 crust of earth held together by roots, and the water 
 below is very deep and treacherous. My track often 
 lay by some of these pools, deep and sullen ones. 
 In one spot I usually expected to find two originals 
 extremely odd characters, and born anglers. No 
 matter what the season, summer or winter, they 
 would go a-fishing; and they caught fish too, go 
 when they would. One peculiarity about the pair 
 was, that they were never caught with their lines 
 where other folks were in the habit of going. If 
 there was one spot more lonesome or weird-looking
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 115 
 
 than another, there you might be sure to find them. 
 They knew well, perhaps, that where fish, fowl, or 
 fur have favourable localities, good food, and undis- 
 turbed possession, they grow larger than elsewhere, 
 and so they often visited that particular spot by 
 which my path frequently ran. 
 
 A mighty pike had his home there, a fact they 
 were also well acquainted with. Deep pools, fringed 
 on their edges with rushes and water-lilies were 
 there ; and runs of shallower water that ran with a 
 sharper current from one pool into the other. Roach 
 and chub of large size were to be seen swimming 
 from pool to pool through these runs. Frequently 
 there would be a swirl in the deep water, and the 
 roach would leap clean out of it pursued by the 
 pike ; and the chub would fly like dark shadows 
 under the great roots that ran in there. 
 
 One day it was a gloomy one with a stiff breeze 
 ruffling the surface of 'the water a youth I knew 
 had, by some unusual persuasive power, obtained 
 leave to accompany this couple. His father, by the 
 way, kept a public - house, and sold good liquor, 
 which might have had something to do with it. 
 Well, this young angler hooked a good chub in one
 
 u6 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 of the deep pools a very fine fish : it was quite as 
 much as he could do to play it, though he was no 
 novice at fishing. Just as he had tired him out, and 
 got him to the edge of the reeds, a monstrous pair 
 of jaws showed above the water. There was a 
 vicious snap, and a plunge poor chubby was gone. 
 So frightened was the lad that he left the spot, and 
 never would he be persuaded to stand by the edge 
 of that pool again. Nothing could divest his mind 
 of the idea that he had seen an escaped alligator. 
 That fish was never caught by line or net ; he was 
 shot as he lay sleeping near the flags, and he fully 
 justified the young angler's opinion of him, for he 
 was a most ferocious-looking monster. 
 
 II. Over the Kissing Stile. 
 
 One weird and lonely spot I often visited at night, 
 listening to the sounds made by the wild creatures, 
 and watching their movements. 
 
 As the mist rose and fell again, according to the 
 temperature, strange forms floated over the surface 
 of the water and round about the trees. The cries 
 of birds and animals are different by night from
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 117 
 
 what they are by day, and they come on the ear 
 with startling distinctness. The moor-hen as it flies 
 overhead gives out a call like the clicketing " kevit- 
 kevit " of the barn owl, which also comes flitting now 
 here, now there, on noiseless wings, uttering his 
 harsh hissing scream. As you stand close to the 
 river-tangle you hear the sough of wings overhead ; 
 and then a dusky form, looking like some shadow, 
 drops close to you. It is the heron : he is near you, 
 but his form is not visible. Night-jars hum in the 
 trees, and the whirring noise made as they pursue 
 their prey sounds in strange vibrations over woods 
 and meadows. The cows can be heard as they nip 
 the grass in feeding, a long distance off. In the 
 reeds and tangle the sedge-warblers keep up a con- 
 tinual chatter all through the night. 
 
 Large fish feed by night more than by day ; you 
 may hear a splash and rush on the shallows, and see 
 the glint of scales as the fish dart in all directions 
 from one of their enemies pike, perch, or eel. Per- 
 haps you may see something which in passing leaves 
 a wake behind it : you look for the lightest part of 
 the narrow run that leads to the nearest pool, and 
 see a dark knob-like object moving swiftly out of
 
 n8 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 sight. It is the head of an otter passing up-stream. 
 Only the head is visible, but there is no mistaking 
 him, for the next moment his strange whistling cry 
 is heard. 
 
 In the air overhead is the sound of quickly moving 
 wings passing and repassing, and strange notes fall 
 on the ear, the cries of birds that are coming to 
 those that have gone over before them. I have often 
 listened to this : there seems at times to be great 
 indecision amongst birds that travel by night. One 
 part of the company the leading one will waver 
 in flight, and pass to and fro several times, sounding 
 their call-notes, then go off in a direct course in 
 perfect stillness. After a minute or so you will hear 
 others with the same call-notes, moving hither and 
 thither in all directions for some time before they 
 go off for good. They are probably uncertain and 
 baffled now and then in their course ; or the hind- 
 most company may be young birds making the 
 migrating passage for the first time. 
 
 I have spent many an hour about that lonely spot, 
 listening to the voices of the night, and learning some 
 of its secrets ; but I confess to feeling some relief 
 when I was on my way home again. It is very, very
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 119 
 
 quiet at midnight in such places, even though there 
 be moonlight. The shadov/s move ; so do many 
 other things, although nature is supposed to be 
 sleeping. The water agitates the flags and the 
 river-tangle ; from time to time something moves 
 the tree-tops on the stillest night, ever so gently, 
 like a faint sigh. Then again all is silent. Even 
 the run of the water changes in its sound as it flows 
 over the shallower places : sometimes you hear the 
 ripple, ripple, plainly ; at others you hardly catch a 
 sound at all. Soon again it comes ripple, ripple, 
 ripple. 
 
 And now we pass through a little copse, and come 
 to a good old-fashioned stile : the top rail, which 
 runs well into the bank on each side, is merely a 
 large oak limb, worn to a polish by the friction of 
 leathern gaiters generations of gaiters. 
 
 The original use for these massive structures was 
 to keep the cattle from breaking bounds, and getting 
 in the woods. The banks were level with the top 
 rail, and strongly splashed down with the live boughs 
 of hazels and other growth. Many remain now, but 
 as they decay the present proprietors replace them 
 with iron gates. The cattle in the meadows that
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 these stiles closed in were rather wild : more than 
 once we have been glad to get on the right side of 
 one. 
 
 The country folks mark time and events by some 
 of these massive structures. You will often hear 
 them say, " I minds the time that 'ere stile was fust 
 fixed, I do. It be over an' above sixty years ; I be 
 now gettin' well on fur eighty, I be, an' 'twas my 
 fayther as put un up there. I was a young un then, 
 an' helped fayther. None on us bided in shool in 
 they times, looterin' about nigh on to men's time, 
 same as they do now. They had ter turn out an' do 
 summut o' some sort or other. 'Twud a bin uncom- 
 mon rough if they hadn't, I can tell 'ee. It's my 
 'pinion they larns 'em enough ter make 'em werry on- 
 satisfied, fur they wunt work farmin' no longer than 
 they're 'bliged to. 'Recktly they gits any size like, 
 off they goes ter better theirselves." 
 
 The name " kissing stile " is bestowed on these 
 rustic structures. Willum, Garge, or Eddard, when 
 out " coortin'," claims a kiss from his lady-love as he 
 assists her, with rustic gallantry, to get over one of 
 these formidable barriers. There is apt to be a little 
 coquetting on the lady's part, or perhaps only a gentle
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 
 
 remonstrance. Jane will tell Willum that "he be 
 gettin' most owdacious bold, thet he be ; and thet ef 
 she'd know'd he'd bin comin' thet way, she wud a 
 bided indoors." But Willum, by some wonderful 
 powers of speech, gets Jane to look at the matter in 
 quite a different light, and she becomes more quiet 
 than would have seemed natural to so active a dam- 
 sel. Listening to some bird, or watching some wild 
 animal, one is often compelled to be an involuntary 
 eavesdropper. " Now, then, over ye comes," says 
 Willum ; " gently now, doan't be flustered, that's the 
 way. Now jump, an' I'll ketch ye." And then fol- 
 lows a sound like the breaking of a great stick, oh, 
 such a smack! Willum claiming and taking his 
 rustic dues. Ay, they are rightly named kissing 
 stiles. 
 
 Getting over this stile, not like Willum, alas ! but 
 alone, I find myself in the meadows, where my two 
 fishermen are likely to be. The meadows form a 
 gentle slope down to the river ; here again is some 
 new freak of the Mole. The soil is a kind of sandy 
 loam ; little by little the floods have undermined the 
 banks, causing great landslips. Large portions of the 
 meadow have gone into the river, taking the trees
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 with them. The trees have been got out and cut up, 
 but the holes made by their fall have, through suc- 
 cessive floods, widened into bays ; whilst the vegeta- 
 tion, ever ready to annex fresh soil, flourishes luxuri- 
 antly. The roots bind the light soil firmly on to the 
 banks that had fallen to the water. 
 
 From the meadow you walk down to the river 
 through a thicket -of rush, flag, water -docks, and 
 stunted willow. The bottom is sandy here. Where 
 the water has been turned from its course by the 
 landslips, it has cut narrow channels, through which it 
 runs with considerable force into the large pools, bring- 
 ing a continual supply of fresh food for the fish. A 
 fine spot is this for perch : they are good ones when 
 you can manage to catch them, but from the boun- 
 tiful supply of food that comes to their haunts, they 
 are very capricious at times in taking the bait, let it 
 be as choice as it may. Pike are also found here, but 
 of no great size, from two to three pounds weight 
 mostly. He prefers to make his home in those parts 
 of the water where the lilies and the reeds grow 
 thickly. 
 
 The sun is low down, and over the river and mead- 
 ows the swallows are wheeling, for insect life is in full
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 123 
 
 play, especially those river-side torments, the midges ; 
 their bite is irritating enough to cause one to shun 
 their vicinity. 
 
 Rooks and jackdaws are passing overhead on their 
 way to the noble Gatton beech-woods ; besides these 
 we hear and see flocks of peewits, that nest all round 
 this part of the Mole. Food is abundant on these 
 long and wide meadows ; coarse., tufts of rush and 
 other low tangle furnish plenty of cover for their slight 
 nest-making efforts. They are not shy, no one mo- 
 lests them. Plover-netting has not come into practice 
 here yet. Fifty or more could be caught at one pull 
 of the net, if the country people knew how to do it. 
 Some of us could put them up to it, but we do not 
 intend to. The plover is too good a friend to the 
 farmer for us to injure him, and he is also one of the 
 ornaments of the low meadows and ploughed lands. 
 This lot before us have young with them ; it is easy 
 to pick them out by their flight. A young rook and 
 a young peewit waver as they fly ; you will frequently 
 see both rooks and peewits feeding close together. 
 
 Passing a bend of the river, we are arrested by the 
 sound of a chirp like that of the blackbird. Looking 
 round, we catch sight of a slouch hat, which we know
 
 124 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 belongs to " Soldier Will," as he was always called. 
 Like myself, he had a taste for wild life : his proclivi- 
 ties took him into many a secluded spot, and in such 
 we often came across one another. 
 
 Picture to yourself a tall spare figure, over six feet 
 high, with a nose that was markedly hooked. A pair 
 of keen grey eyes peered out from under bushy eye- 
 brows ; his face, in spite of nose and eyebrows, was a 
 decidedly laughing one : the expression of his mouth 
 was continually contradicting that of his upper fea- 
 tures. He wore a long grey coat which reached well 
 below his knees, summer and winter the same long 
 coat : the only difference he ever made in his toilet 
 was that in winter he was closely buttoned up to his 
 chin, whereas in summer that grey garment was 
 allowed to fly open. His slouched felt hat was also 
 grey, the brim of it always pulled well over the eyes. 
 Having been wounded in action, he had a limping 
 gait ; and he never was seen out of doors without his 
 fishing-rod and his stout ash stick. He had always 
 fished, he would tell me, both at home and abroad, 
 whenever he could get the chance ; and fish he still 
 would, so long as he could get about at all. Where 
 was the harm of fair fishing with rod and line ? he
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 125 
 
 would ask defiantly. After a time a sort of comrade- 
 ship was established between us ; and we would in- 
 form each other in what direction along the river we 
 were likely to wander, although of course words when 
 fishing were few and far between. " Quiet and out of 
 sight," he would say ; " if you can see a fish, the fish 
 can see you." 
 
 Very quietly I made my way down to him, and 
 to my whispered question "What luck?" he pointed 
 to a good heap, a little on one side of him, covered 
 over with flags. " Perch," said he ; "I have not 
 shifted from here all day, but I am going now. I 
 shall pack up, and neatly too. I can't bear to see 
 beautiful fish tumbled about anyhow." He was quite 
 right : a catch of fish shows to better advantage 
 placed neatly, carefully spread on rushes or flags ; 
 and they eat better too, when they come to table, 
 from not having been bruised or tumbled about. 
 
 " Full or empty ? " he asked, pointing to my basket. 
 
 Slinging it round, I opened the lid for his inspec- 
 tion. First he lifted the plump gudgeons lovingly 
 up with his finger and thumb, then the perch, and 
 lastly the trout. After inspecting them, he care- 
 fully replaced them in their green coverings of flags,
 
 126 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 saying, " You've been in luck's way to-day ; they're a 
 pretty lot beauties all of them." 
 
 Then we made our way home together. A most 
 amusing companion he always was, having a fund of 
 anecdotes ; and so well told were they, that long 
 miles always seemed short in his company. Well up 
 in the nature and ways of fish was Soldier Will, and 
 indeed in any other subject he cared to talk about. 
 
 " And where is your inseparable Dickey to-day ? " 
 I asked ; and was told in reply that Dickey was 
 working the bream in the reaches below here. 
 
 The Mole widens out broad : a scent of tobacco 
 comes to us a powerful scent from a short black 
 cutty, well coloured. Soldier Will observes that he 
 can nose Dickey half a mile down-stream when the 
 wind is right ; also that the midges don't bite him 
 same as they do other folk : that pipe of his settles 
 them, so as they can't get near him. 
 
 Under a large oak we find Dickey all ready for 
 going home. A greater contrast could not be found 
 than that presented by this odd pair. Will, as I 
 said, was tall ; Dickey only a little over five feet in 
 height thin as a lath, with light scrubby hair and 
 a bristly moustache ; beard he had none. When he
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 127 
 
 was excited and he was that pretty often his stub- 
 bly moustache bristled up fiercely. One eye squinted 
 strongly ; and if you happened to see Dickey with a 
 big fish in his hand you would not forget it that 
 squint, I mean. 
 
 A comical figure altogether was Dickey. He wore 
 a long, brown, weather-stained coat, faded so much 
 that in colour it resembled the plumage of the brown 
 owl : when out fishing and near any tree-trunk, it was 
 a very difficult matter to distinguish Dickey. 
 
 " Come on, Dickey," said Soldier Will ; whereupon 
 Dickey put up his fish in his flag-basket without a 
 word, and walked along beside us. Presently he ob- 
 served, " Got some big uns ; some on 'em like a pair 
 of bellows." 
 
 " And who is going to eat 'em, now you've caught 
 'em, Dickey ? " 
 
 " Somebody'll eat 'em, but not me, Soldier," he 
 answered, looking up with a grin. Bream are not 
 very desirable fish for the table. 
 
 All the farmers along the river-sides gave this pair 
 leave to fish, with one exception. This was Old Crab- 
 apple, as we called him. He never fished himself, 
 however, so they fished without his leave, and were
 
 128 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 caught by him and abused roundly. They tried to 
 tempt him by the offer of a catch now and again. 
 
 " I wants neither your fish nor you ; mind ye, I 
 warns ye off." 
 
 Two days later he caught them there again. First 
 he gave it to Soldier Will hotly ; then he walked on 
 to give Dickey a turn. Dickey had slunk in under 
 a bank, but did not escape him ; so he put on his 
 comical air, stuck his old straw hat on the back of 
 his head, turned the collar of his coat up over his 
 ears, and, as the farmer stood over him, looked up 
 with a squint. Crab-apple looked at him without 
 a word, and passed on up the field. 
 
 Then Dickey got up and joined his friend. " Did 
 he say much, Soldier?" he asked. 
 
 " You heard what he said plain enough," grunted 
 Will. 
 
 " Ah ! he said nothin' to me." 
 
 Looking at Dickey for a moment, criticisingly, 
 Will said " And no wonder he made a mistake, 
 an' took ye for one of the biggest fools he ever 
 seed in his life ; but ye're not that, Dickey, rather 
 the other way, eh, old boy ? " 
 
 One more visit they made on Old Crab-apple's
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 129 
 
 grounds, but it was their last. Some splendid bul- 
 rushes grew in this part of the river-side, and Soldier 
 Will had promised to secure some of these for a 
 friend who wanted them for purposes of ornament 
 or decoration. The cantankerous old farmer got 
 wind of the pair, and having told his people not to 
 go into the meadows, he turned his bull loose there. 
 The two friends had done some fishing, and with 
 their baskets and a bundle of bulrushes on Soldier 
 Will's back, they came from the shelter of the banks 
 up into the open meadows, congratulating each other 
 on the way they had " done " Old Crab-apple. All at 
 once a sound like distant thunder fell on their ears. 
 
 " Dickey, my boy," said Will, " we've left off fish- 
 ing none too soon ; there's thunder about." 
 
 " That's no thunder," answered Dickey ; and look- 
 ing round he saw the bull charging across the mead- 
 ows in their direction. " Look ! it's the bull ! " yelled 
 he. One glance, off went the bundle of bulrushes. 
 " The river ! " shrieked Dickey " the river, Soldier ! " 
 
 Down the bank they rushed ; through the tangle 
 and into the water, where they floundered through, 
 shoulder - deep, fish and all, and up the opposite 
 bank : there they sat down, gasping. 
 I
 
 1 30 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 That bundle of rushes had done them good ser- 
 vice : the bull had busied himself with them a while, 
 goring and tossing them about, else the result might 
 have been serious for both. 
 
 " How do you feel, Dickey ? " asks Will. 
 
 " Queer, Soldier, queer ; and how are you ? " 
 
 " Wild as a hawk, Dickey, wild. We've had notice 
 to quit served us with a vengeance this time. We 
 won't go there any more." 
 
 ///. The Burrowing Mole. 
 
 The fords and the way-poles are numerous algng 
 the run of the Mole. When I first knew the river, 
 bridges, which now are numerous, were not in exist- 
 ence, and serious inconvenience was felt in times of 
 flood. Modern improvements have remedied this to a 
 very great extent. Gentlemen through whose estates 
 the river winds have had the fallen trees cleared 
 out of the river's bed, and narrow channels widened, 
 so that the water has more chance of getting away ; 
 but even now many places are impassable in flood- 
 time. Those who are in the secret get their fishing- 
 tackle ready when the river is brim-full up to the
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 131 
 
 bank-tops, and the brooks are bayed back by the 
 body of water from the river. When the rain has 
 ceased, and the rush from the hills and fields has 
 stopped, there is calm deep water, which soon clears 
 down. From the river the fish rush for shelter and 
 food there is plenty of that. Pike, perch, trout, 
 chub, roach, and dace, all rush up. 
 
 I have seen good pike taken with a worm, for the 
 fish sometimes will bite at anything. Baskets are 
 filled then, and the fish run large. The country folks 
 have names of their own for the fords ; for instance, 
 Flanchford, near Reigate and Leigh, is called Flin- 
 chet. If you asked one of the rustics to direct you 
 to Flanchford Bridge, he would tell you " he'd got no 
 recknin' of a place o' that name." Ask him for Flin- 
 chet, and he would give you accurate directions at 
 once. Those who come down from town to see wild 
 life in some of our localities often go back sadly dis- 
 appointed, simply because they cannot understand 
 the dialect of the natives of the soil. 
 
 Past the lawns of mansions the river flows through 
 park-like stretches of meadow-land, heavily timbered 
 with fine trees, and dotted over with groups of cattle, 
 some of them standing knee-deep in the shallower
 
 1 32 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 parts, lazily brushing the flies off with their long tails 
 as they stand feeding on the tops of the lush river- 
 grass. 
 
 There are quiet and beautiful nooks beside the 
 woodland Mole. Here and there are the ruins of 
 some old mill which once was busy and full ; and 
 you can trace through the meadows the spot where a 
 mill-pond had its source. The meadow lies even now 
 two, and in some places four feet, below the banks of 
 what was once the pond. Even the walls of the 
 sluice - gates remain, covered over with ferns and 
 mosses of varied tints. One of these it was which 
 suggested Eliza Cook's poem, " The Old Water- 
 Mill," beginning, " And is this the old mill stream ? " 
 Although modern improvements have destroyed 
 much of the picturesqueness of rural life, there is 
 still plenty of it left, if one only knows where to 
 look for it. This was a favourite haunt, during her 
 childhood, of the poetess who has so lately gone 
 to her rest. She loved this old mill, and wrote of 
 it more than once. In " The Old Mill Stream " 
 she says 
 
 " I wonder if still the young anglers begin, 
 As I did, with willow-wand, pack-thread, and pin ;
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 133 
 
 When I threw in my line with expectancy high 
 As to perch in my basket, and eels in a pie. 
 
 The first of my doggerel breathings was there 
 Twas the hope of a poet, ' An Ode to Despair.' 
 
 Beautiful streamlet, I dream of thee still, 
 
 Of thy pouring cascade and thy tic-tac-ing mill ; 
 
 Thou livest in mem'ry, and wilt not depart, 
 
 For thy waters seem blent with the stream of my heart." 
 
 And in " The Old Water-Mill " she laments 
 
 " The mill is in ruins. No welcoming sound 
 In the mastiffs gruff bark and the wheels dashing round ; 
 The house, too, untenanted left to decay 
 And the miller, long dead : all I loved passed away." 
 
 More Place, Betchworth, is quaint and beautiful in 
 itself, as well as in all its surroundings. The river 
 flows calmly by Betchworth House to the weir, and 
 from the weir to Brockham, or, as it was named in 
 olden times, Brocksholm the haunt of the badger. 
 There is a real old English green there, surrounded 
 by pleasant rustic cottages and pretty houses, with 
 the village church. 
 
 The Mole and its banks have great interest for the 
 naturalist ; animal and bird life thrive vigorously
 
 134 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 there. For the artist who knows the paths that run 
 to and beside it, the river is an endless source of 
 inspiration ; but many of its treasures are hidden 
 from the stranger. And where as is the case in 
 many parts of it the beautiful spots lie so closely 
 together, the painter is bewildered amongst them, and 
 his day is nearly gone before he can make up his 
 mind which he shall fix on his canvas. 
 
 After Boxhill Bridge, near Dorking, is passed, the 
 character of the river changes, and it begins to do a 
 little burrowing as it runs in a line with Betchworth 
 Park, part of the Deep Dene estate, its old ruined 
 castle and t fine avenue of lime-trees, where the rooks 
 have their home. The great chestnut-trees, now in 
 all stages of decay, were, when I knew them best, and 
 probably still are, tenanted by brown owls, barn owls, 
 jackdaws, and starlings, as well as bats. The park is 
 rich in bird-life of many species. 
 
 A short distance from the castle mill, the river 
 winds along at the foot of Boxhill, where it is pent up ; 
 you can see where it has torn a passage through the 
 chalk. 
 
 The banks are full of beauty for a mile or more, 
 but, as they run through private property, the general
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 
 
 135 
 
 public can know little about them. In times past 
 this used to be one of my favourite hunting-grounds ; 
 I had permission to wander about there as I chose. 
 Day after day, and night after night, I used to ex- 
 plore along the banks. At some of the bends the 
 river runs swiftly over the shallows into a broad pool ; 
 then again there is a shallow where masses of weeds, 
 showing emerald-green, wave to and fro in the water. 
 One or two good trout can be got at such places at 
 times, and fine silver-bellied eels. One of the swal- 
 lows of the river is close to a stretch of this sort. It 
 is merely a pit, the sides of it covered with rank river- 
 growth. The inlet, at the time I knew it, was about 
 three feet wide, and two inches in depth. The pit 
 was some ten or twelve feet deep, and it held many 
 tons of water ; more than once I have emptied this 
 swallow by simply keeping the water back with a turf 
 dam. 
 
 All that could be seen was a deep pit, covered 
 above water-mark with herbage ; and two holes not 
 quite large enoug-h to get your hand into, which went 
 down somewhere or other. I noticed the fish never 
 entered that place. 
 
 One wild spot in the side of the hill, close to the
 
 I 3 6 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 river, is called the Pigeon-holes, on account of the 
 great number of birds that shelter there. Large 
 beech-trees, many of them decayed or decaying, 
 stand out, bleached and bare, like skeleton trees. 
 Some of them had been undermined long ago, and 
 fallen into the river, which runs shallow here tearing 
 down great masses of chalk soil, that made small 
 islands in the bed of the river ; whilst the trees formed 
 bridges across from bank to bank. Their branches 
 and roots, tangled in all directions, gave the river- 
 plants a resting-place for their roots in the earth that 
 they brought with them in their fall, and a rare shelter 
 was there for the wild creatures. The moor - hen 
 slipped along, in and out ; water-rats nibbled away 
 at the sedges ; water-lilies opened their fair blossoms 
 to the sun's gaze, all undisturbed. And here you 
 could listen to the yike, yike, yike of the green wood- 
 pecker, and watch him at his work ; or to the cooing 
 of the pigeons, and the chatter of the sedge-warblers, 
 which knew well that the step of rude man, or the 
 hand of depredating boy, seldom marred the joy of 
 existence in this secluded spot. 
 
 As to fish, the bed of the river actually seemed to 
 move with them, as they swam up and down in the
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 137 
 
 clear running water. Sometimes a heron would rise 
 from the flags, where he had been dozing, and flap 
 away down-stream to some other lonely nook ; or 
 a sparrow-hawk might dash out from the trees, and 
 make away with an unlucky bird. But for these 
 occasional visitants, it was, and still is, a quiet 
 dreamy spot, where nothing is heard beyond the 
 sounds made by wild creatures, and the endless 
 ripple of the water. 9 _ 
 
 But though fish were plentiful, I fished but little 
 here ; there was always too much to see round about 
 the Pigeon-holes. Only on a summer's night a friend 
 and I sometimes did a little angling in good earnest. 
 Good fish feed at night, pike especially ; the loaches, 
 minnows, and others, come on the warm shallows for 
 insects. Under the overhanging boughs of the alders 
 they are on the watch for prey. One evening my 
 companion killed two pike, each five pounds weight, 
 in ten minutes ; that is, he landed them, in first-class 
 style, without a net to bring them to grass. " When 
 you have hooked a fish, get him landed quick," he 
 would observe, quietly. And quickly his were landed, 
 as a rule. 
 
 The mist comes off the water, rises falls again
 
 138 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 creeps over the rreadows passes away and re- 
 turns again as the currents of warm air pass to and 
 fro. The barn owl beats over the meadows, rises, 
 falls, and screeches as he drops on his prey. Only 
 those who are well acquainted with the vast number 
 of the large- headed, short-tailed field-mouse, or. 
 properly speaking, the field -vole, that large kind 
 that inhabits the moist meadows, can fully appreciate 
 the good done by the, owls in the gardens of residents 
 by the river-side. The field-voles become a perfect 
 pest : being vegetable feeders, they eat the peas, 
 bark the wall-fruit stems, gnaw the ground crops, 
 and play general havoc, to say nothing of what other 
 vermin of their sort will do ; and yet owls are shot 
 oh, the pity and stupidity of it ! I have a weakness 
 for owls, having tamed and studied numbers of them 
 for years. Wonderful birds they are, when you come 
 to know them well ; and so little understood that 
 poets still write about " the moping owl," " that ill- 
 omened bird of night," &c. ; and even Shakespeare 
 says, " Out on you, owls ; nothing but songs of 
 death:" not to speak of the ignorance of their nature 
 and habits shown by keepers and farmers who ought 
 to know and to protect them, in their own interests.
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 139 
 
 Owls are in reality gay-hearted creatures, as full of 
 fun and frolic as monkeys, and quite as inquisitive. 
 Better behaved, however, they are, as becomes birds 
 of their deportment. 
 
 The bright harvest moon floods the sides of Box- 
 hill commonly called the Whites with a soft radi- 
 ance ; for she has been up for some hours and has 
 come round the hill ; her light falls full on the 
 chalk sides, and the great trees near the river. A 
 strip of meadow runs from the belt of trees to the 
 water ; shadowy forms flit hither and thither over 
 the grass, rabbits on the feed. From the bank 
 where we are standing, a dead beech leans over : in 
 its shadow we wait, close to the trunk, well hidden 
 from view. We are in search of a natural history 
 specimen. No sound is to be heard but the ripple 
 of the water over the broad shallow which reflects 
 the light of the moon. The dead limbs of the tree 
 project over the water. From the trees comes a 
 sound like the whine of young pups, answered by 
 two sharp barking keuvits, and one prolonged hooe, 
 hooe hooe-e-hooe a sound familiar to our ears. 
 From two young brown owls the whining cries pro- 
 ceed ; the other cry is from one or both of their
 
 140 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 parents. Again the cries are heard ; three noiseless 
 forms pass overhead and settle on the white limbs 
 of the old beech ; one large bird and two young 
 ones are there. Passing close to the trunk, we peer 
 up at them very cautiously. The two young birds 
 are on one limb, where they chatter together in owl 
 fashion ; the old owl perches on a limb directly over 
 the shallowest part of the river. Fish are working 
 about roach probably, for their sides flash silver, 
 as they scuttle over the pebbles of the ford. I 
 chance to tread on a little twig it snaps ; there is 
 only the slightest sound, but they hear it. Instantly 
 their heads and bodies are erect like those of soldiers, 
 looking half their usual size, for when alarmed their 
 feathers are drawn close to the body. Finding that 
 nothing ensues after the snapping of the twig, they 
 settle down as before, the young ones softly whining 
 to each other. The old bird now begins to sway to 
 and fro, the head moving round first one way and 
 then another. There is a flash of fish on the pebbles ; 
 down drops the owl and fixes one. The water flies 
 in showers of sparkling drops as the fish make for 
 deeper water, whilst the one captured kicks vigor- 
 ously. No chance of escape : the owl grasps the
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 141 
 
 fish with one foot and hops with the other ; then up 
 he goes to the young ones. The prize is a good- 
 sized fish, apparently a half-pounder. A great com- 
 motion follows ; there is much flapping of wings and 
 whining on the part of the young owls, as they all 
 shoot off to their dining-room at the foot of the 
 Whites. 
 
 Owls when wet are in a sorry plight, but that is 
 when wet with the rain. All birds and animals have 
 a dislike to that, as a rule, and they will fly or run 
 for shelter. Rain under certain atmospheric influ- 
 ences is very penetrating and depressing to all crea- 
 tures. But into running water the brown owl will 
 dash like any osprey, in order to capture his prey. 
 I have seen him take the water repeatedly. The 
 barn owl, too, will catch fish. 
 
 It is a common mistake to think that when the 
 owl is seen sitting on a branch in the warm sunlight, 
 he has lost his way and is bewildered. He likes 
 dearly to sit and doze in the sun, and will do it for 
 hours if he is not disturbed. Warmth he always 
 seeks. The spot in which he makes his home must 
 be dry and pretty free from draughts. When fright- 
 ened by men or boys, whilst taking his warm nap in
 
 1 42 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 the sun, he only does what some members of the 
 human family do under similar circumstances 
 namely, loses his wits and comes to grief. When 
 the birds gather round him and mob him, if one has 
 discovered him napping, he is not much put out. 
 A clutch from the very powerful foot of the brown 
 owl puts one of the noisy crew into quietness. He 
 can see well enough in broad daylight. 
 
 Close to the hill is Burford Bridge ; from that the 
 river runs to Mickleham and Norbury. Between 
 Burford and Mickleham is Pray Bridge : a very 
 ancient wooden structure once spanned the river 
 here. 
 
 Through Norbury Park the river for some distance 
 takes the form of successive pools, for the Mole bur- 
 rows here. In a dry season it is very noticeable. 
 This is a favourite locality for painters, and very 
 beautiful. Not far from here is the Druids' Grove ; 
 some very old yew-trees are there. 
 
 Returning one day from a fishing excursion near 
 Norbury, I passed the way-pole at the ford close to 
 the Pilgrims' Way. The day had been warm, but 
 a breeze had sprung up. Knowing that sometimes 
 a good trout had his home in the pool, I thought
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 143 
 
 there would be no harm in trying for him below 
 the ford ; so away I turned down the lane leading 
 to it from the main road. There stood a man well 
 known to myself, looking intently at the water. He 
 nodded, and pointing to the pool, jerked out, 
 " Otter ! " 
 
 Drawing back from the water's edge, he tells me 
 that one otter, if not more, has been working the 
 river. A keen shot he is, and well versed in all the 
 dodges of woodcraft ; besides which, he has leave 
 from the owner of the estate to shoot the otter, if 
 he can. 
 
 " It will be a waiting job ; will you come? I am 
 going home for my gun : about ten o'clock the moon 
 will be round the hill, and I shall perch up for him." 
 
 Between ten and eleven we were there : it was a 
 waiting job, no mistake about that, and the midges 
 were ferocious. We kept, of course, perfectly quiet, 
 and about midnight a splash was heard in the pool 
 below, as if some dog had jumped into the water. 
 
 " Hark ! " whispered my companion ; " they are at 
 play, and will pass the ford directly." 
 
 That splash answers two purposes ; there is fun 
 and profit as well in it, as far as the otters are con-
 
 I 4 4 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 earned. The fish in the pool rush to the sides of the 
 banks ; so do the otters. Frightened fish lie closely 
 together ; the otter knows this, and catches them 
 easily. A rush on the shallow, and up goes the 
 double barrel ; but it is not one of the otters that 
 shows only a large eel weighing certainly five 
 pounds : his silver belly flashes like a streak of 
 light as he makes for the next pool higher up. 
 
 He does not mean to let the otters make his ac- 
 quaintance, if he can help it : they are, like the lady 
 in the Ingoldsby legend, remarkably fond of eels. 
 As we still stand perfectly quiet a hedgehog comes 
 to the toe of my shoe, places his fore-feet on it, sniffs, 
 murmurs a little, and passes on. Rabbits dot to and 
 fro, and one hare rushes over the meadows. Master 
 Reynard is not far away, for here he has his strong- 
 hold during the season. You may hear the yapping 
 bark of the dog fox and the scream of the vixen, 
 at intervals, all through the night. The badger 
 once had his home on the hillside, but the poor 
 fellow has been rooted out. 
 
 Once more the light has shifted. " I can't see 
 rightly here," whispers my friend. "I will get into 
 the water in the shade ; it is quite warm. If they
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 145 
 
 think of coming up at all, they will be in the light 
 on the shallow. Hand me over my gun when I 
 am in the water, and then get back from the bank 
 a bit." 
 
 I did as he bade me, but in a few moments he 
 was back at my side, dripping wet. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " I asked in a whisper. 
 
 " Why, before I could settle myself, one of the 
 otters passed between me and the bank, not a foot 
 from my leg. What a go ! He had been working 
 the bank for that big eel, I fancy. I think it was 
 the dog : he looked big as he passed me, and he 
 gave me no time to fire at him. The other one is 
 below somewhere ; we may get her." 
 
 Once more we wait and watch. There is a whistle 
 of pinions ; it comes from two ducks that are going 
 to feed on the shallows. The temptation is great, 
 but my companion does not fire ; he will wait for 
 the other chance at the otter. 
 
 Presently there is a swirl of wings and a heron 
 settles, almost opposite to our place of concealment : 
 his white under-parts showing in the light is all that 
 we can see, and that only for a few moments, but 
 quite long enough for us to shoot him ; still we 
 K
 
 146 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 will not fire. In another moment he is invisible, 
 although only twelve yards distant from us, at 
 the most. 
 
 "Hark!" murmurs my friend. "Hear that! one 
 of them is calling. There are cubs about some- 
 where. I fancy the other got the taint of me when 
 I stood in the water, and slipped round on the 
 meadow side ; but we shall soon know." 
 
 Once more the whistling call is heard. The light 
 is now up-stream, something is coming down that 
 streak of light at a rapid pace. The water flies in 
 jets of silver light as it rushes over the shallow 
 parts." 
 
 " All right," says my friend ; " now I shall have 
 him on this shallow." 
 
 The gun is at his shoulder : as the dark spot passes 
 he fires almost before the otter has left the deeper 
 water. A long body rolls and twists in the water, the 
 report of the second barrel rings out, and all is still. 
 
 Wading into the water, the man drags the poor 
 dead beast by the tail on to the bank. Looking at 
 him then in the moonlight, he finds, to his great 
 disappointment, that it is a half-grown cub, which 
 had heard its mother call and come to meet her.
 
 A SURREY RIVER. 147 
 
 As I said before, with new owners, new regulations 
 have been made, and many parts of our beautiful 
 woodland Mole are closed. It cannot be helped ; 
 but as a field naturalist I can say, with perfect 
 reason, that with all their wise regulations there is 
 not one half of the fish in this river that there used 
 to be when it was open to any to fish there ; nor 
 yet one quarter of the animal life that there formerly 
 was along the river-banks. 
 
 Some folks, and a great many wild creatures, are 
 best left alone. When man makes his arrangements 
 with a view to alter the course of nature, as the 
 darkey once observed, " something goes wrong with 
 the works."
 
 1 48 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WAYS AND WHIMS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 
 
 SOME authorities on matters pertaining to angling 
 would have us believe that the fish are more wide- 
 awake than they used to be, and that tackle on 
 finer and more scientific principles, with far more 
 elaborate baiting, is now required. This is certainly 
 made to perfection ; and yet there is something far 
 more necessary to success than all this, and that is 
 a knowledge of the haunts and the habits of the 
 fish angled for. As a rule, fish are very much like 
 " humans " in having varying ways of living and of 
 behaving themselves in different localities. What 
 will serve the angler in one county, or even in one 
 part of the same county, will be quite useless in 
 another.
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 149 
 
 This is why the rustic angler, an agricultural 
 labourer perhaps, will, with his primitive fishing- 
 gear, get a good basket of fish, to the great 
 astonishment of those less fortunate fishers who 
 may be using the latest of modern appliances. 
 The rustic knows the run and the lie of the water, 
 accurately to a yard. From his childhood he has 
 been familiar with it ; he knows, too, the favourite 
 foods of the fish as the seasons vary. He is well 
 aware, also, how necessary it is to hide himself by 
 all possible means from the sight of the fish : as he 
 says, " They eyes is mortal quick ; they sees you 
 lots o' times afore you gets a glint on 'em." His 
 knowledge of woodcraft gives him the knack of 
 moving quietly ; and what a valuable habit or gift 
 that of quiet action is, either in gentle or simple 
 folks ! The latter may not practise it at all times, 
 but they can when it is necessary. To see a great 
 fellow come through the tangle and lay himself down 
 by the brook for a side-cast up-stream, without so 
 much as startling the moor - hen that is feeding 
 near at hand, is an interesting and common enough 
 sight with us. 
 
 If pike have come out of good waters they are
 
 1 5 o ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 a fine enough fish for the table, but as a game 
 sporting fish the pike is all that can be desired. 
 When he has smashed up everything, and left me 
 considering the vexatious incidents that are apt to 
 attend his capture, I have found him more than I 
 could desire. Now and again great brutes, about 
 which the rustics have legends, rush from their 
 haunts in the roots of flag, reed, and tangle, and 
 seize a jack of three or four pounds by the middle 
 one that the angler was in the act of landing 
 close to the bank. Then, for a brief space, may be 
 seen a tearing struggle ; smash go the first and 
 second joints of your rod and a part of your line, 
 with the hooked jack, and all is over. I have 
 known some younger members of the rustic angling 
 community to be so unnerved by mishaps of the 
 kind that nothing could induce them to fish again 
 in or near the water where this had occurred. They 
 sum the creatures up as " dangerous to get near 
 with either hand or foot." For my part I prefer 
 the middle-sized fish for sport and for the table. 
 
 One of the pike's favourite haunts I know well. 
 Changes have taken place since I first remember it, 
 but it is not greatly altered. The old mill, as grey
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 151 
 
 and as dusty as of old, stands yet surrounded by 
 woods. There is the road winding between heath 
 and bracken towards the upland moors ; and there, 
 too, is the other road, lined on either side with forest- 
 timber, which leads to a secluded hamlet. The large 
 rush-and-alder-fringed mill-pool is as it was, but the 
 causeway " cawsey " the rustics call it with its 
 sloping weir-boards " splash - boords " exists no 
 longer. On each side of this stone - covered cart- 
 road, which was protected by posts and rails, the 
 pool extended, and a plank foot - bridge running 
 directly over the sloping splash-boards was used by 
 the customers who came from the hamlet to the mill. 
 As a general rule the water on the causeway was 
 about six inches deep, but sometimes it was more. 
 The miller's horses and cattle were constantly pass- 
 ing to and fro over it during the day. 
 
 On this waterway in the daytime the small fish 
 delighted to congregate, for food and warmth were 
 there ; but in the gudgeon season these little beauties 
 would come in shoals just at the dusk of the evening 
 from a small stream that ran in near by, and they 
 fed on the stones of the causeway, which had been 
 warmed by the sun. Aquatic insect -life was there
 
 1 52 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 in great abundance. As the small stream ran round 
 a little bend direct on to the cart-track, the gudgeon 
 had no occasion to swim in the mill-pool ; it would 
 have" been fatal for them to venture there. The 
 pike knew, however, when the toothsome, luscious 
 little fishes were feeding on the stones, and they 
 would gather on both sides of the causeway for the 
 purpose of better acquaintance, if possible. When 
 the head of water in that particular season was high 
 enough in the pond to cause a run over the splash- 
 boards into the pool, certain friends of mine, who, 
 as they put it, " knowed what they was arter," would 
 gather on the foot-plank bridge, with the full consent 
 of the miller, who was wroth about a lot of his young 
 ducks that had lost the number of their mess through 
 those voracious pike. The lads had noticed that when 
 the gudgeon shoaled on the stones the pike were on 
 the watch. Now and again a small pike would sail 
 on the causeway, poise himself for a moment, and 
 then make a rush for them, causing a dire com- 
 motion. Some threw themselves clean out of the 
 water, others made for the pond never to return 
 again. You could see fierce rushes and swirls 
 where the pike were quite ready for them. Some,
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 153 
 
 in their fright, would venture too near the current 
 that ran over the splash - boards, and, after vain 
 efforts to recover themselves, would wriggle down, 
 tail first, into the other side of the mill-pool, to be 
 instantly snapped up by the pike there. Roach 
 and small trout the monsters could have in abun- 
 dance ; that was their common food, easy enough 
 to get whenever they required it ; it would have 
 been useless to try to capture them with either of 
 these : but gudgeon were a luxury which they tried 
 their hardest to procure when it was possible. 
 
 Now gudgeon are, at certain times troubled by 
 some law known to themselves compelled, like 
 eels, to make down-stream. Let any one curious 
 in such matters, who knows their haunts, watch 
 them gather for days if there is any fall in the 
 water before they will finally allow themselves to 
 be carried over, tail first, into the current below. 
 They do not all go over at the same time a few, 
 the finest fish, slip over first, in small companies, as 
 if to show the main body the best method of doing 
 it. At such a time those observant rustic anglers 
 would gather on that bridge. Their rods were of 
 the most primitive description, simply a hazel stick
 
 i 5 4 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 about 6 feet long, split into a fork at the top, and 
 bound below the split with a wax end. A small 
 twig lashed on to each end of the fork formed a 
 run for the line, which consisted of thin water-cord, 
 terminated by a gimp-hook. The other portion of 
 the line that ran from the fork was coiled round the 
 angler's hand the one which held the rod. After 
 the gudgeon had been hooked on just below the 
 back fin the bait-kettle of the whole party was a 
 large flower -pot it would be dropped on the top 
 of the splash-boards. Down it wriggled in the run 
 of the water into the pool below, where large mouths 
 were ready for it. They did not use a float of any 
 kind, considering it best for the bait to run free. 
 Before many moments elapsed you would hear one 
 or another of the company bidding his neighbour 
 move a bit, to let him pass and land his fish. 
 There was a good - tempered comradeship among 
 those rustic anglers that is somewhat unusual, I 
 fancy, among the so - called more polite classes. 
 After a little the pike would leave off feeding in 
 the sudden abrupt fashion which is their way. 
 
 This was the only method of capture pursued at 
 the causeway of the old mill. Those pike had al-
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 155 
 
 ways been accustomed to watch for the gudgeon 
 coming down to them from the boards above, and 
 they would only take the bait in that fashion. 
 
 One evening I remember a visitor arrived with a 
 trolling-rod of the latest manufacture, and he tried 
 his luck there without success. The four friends 
 alluded to were at their accustomed place ; and with 
 more directness than nicety of expression, one of 
 them asked when he intended "to leave off heavin' 
 an' pitchin' about? they'd come to catch fish, and 
 if he wanted to act the fule, he'd better git lower 
 down the pond." 
 
 Although the pike has been credited with indis- 
 criminating voracity, he is, at certain times of the 
 year, very " picksome," as our folks say, if not 
 dainty. That is when the water-fowl the swimmers 
 and the waders leave their homes to paddle and 
 run amongst and over the weeds that cover and line 
 the waters which the pike frequents. You can see 
 his alligator- like head just clear of the masses of 
 weed that surround the fish ; and you may try him 
 with anything you like roach, dace, gudgeon, or 
 minnow he will have none of them. He is intent 
 on other game. You can hear the bird-life that is
 
 156 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 all about more than you can see it coots clank 
 and click, moor-hens call, little grebes chatter, and 
 the water-rail grunts and squeaks ; but you will see 
 little of it, for in the breeding season they keep very 
 close. One might be easily forgiven for taking the 
 nest of coot or moor-hen for a mere heap of sedge- 
 drift, or that of the little grebe for a lump of green 
 stuff a trifle higher than the surrounding weeds, 
 so artless, apparently, and yet hidden with what 
 seems such consummate art, are the nests, if the 
 slight platform of damp weed-tangle can be called 
 by that name. In the case of that of the little 
 grebe or dabchick, it is absolutely wet from the 
 time the eggs are first laid, up to the moment when 
 the little creatures burst from their shells. 
 
 All these birds know well that the pike is on the 
 watch for their broods at this season, and they use 
 the greatest precautions. I have watched them exer- 
 cise these repeatedly. In spite of all they can do, 
 numbers of their progeny come to grief. Even the 
 kingfisher becomes uneasy when the pike is on the 
 watch ; and he will not rest, as is usually his wont, on 
 any twig so low down as nearly to touch the water, 
 when the great fish is on the alert for feathered prey.
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 157 
 
 There he lies ; he has not moved one inch from the 
 spot where we first noted him ; but, as we look, there 
 is a stir in the rushes, and now a moor-hen appears, 
 followed by her dark-looking fluffy chicks. She is 
 making her way to the bit of open water that is free 
 from weeds. Out of one corner of that very spot the 
 broad snout has been poked so long. She looks all 
 round very cautiously, but neither sees nor hears any- 
 thing to alarm her. Off the weeds she slips into the 
 water, her chicks following closely, making a pretty 
 sight as they cluster about their mother, like so many 
 dark corks afloat. 
 
 The ugly snout has vanished ; but with a rush that 
 causes the water to boil up and stirs the rushes all 
 round, its owner makes for his prey, taking in three of 
 the fluffy little creatures at one snap for, as a rule, 
 the pike seizes from below. The old bird herself has 
 a narrow escape ; she barely misses being included 
 in that vicious snap. 
 
 The water-rail is very wary of swimming over any 
 water at this time, for his slim compressed body goes 
 down the pike's gullet as easily as that of a dace or 
 gudgeon. 
 
 Frogs, too, dread and avoid the water now. If you
 
 158 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 catch one and throw him into it, his frantic efforts 
 to gain the bank again are very curious. When his 
 tribe visit the ponds and pools in spawning-time, the 
 pike will have nothing to do with them. The rustics 
 will tell you " he hates 'em like pisen then." Only 
 when the frog has left the water and gone to live on 
 the land, making himself plump and handsome, the 
 pike becomes enamoured of him again ; and at that 
 season you will hear the rustic angler say, " I shell 
 try summat else ; I shell go an' kick up a chawly off 
 the moor." When he has kicked him up, as he terms 
 it, he proceeds with his frog as follows : Holding the 
 " chawly " by the hind-legs, he takes him to the water. 
 Any one that has held a frog in this fashion knows 
 that in the creature's struggles to escape its body is held 
 upright. Whilst the man has it so in his left hand, he 
 brings the first joint of the second finger of his right 
 hand down to the middle of the thumb, and, holding 
 it at the back of froggy's head, lets drive, or, as he 
 says, " snicks him," killing him at once. So effectual 
 is this operation that I have never known a frog to 
 move after it. From those horny fingers it acts with 
 the force of a catapult. This is the first part of the 
 proceeding. The next step is to fix a double hook
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 159 
 
 in the frog's back in the skin. Tie his fore-feet in 
 front of him with a bit of thread, and his hind-legs 
 above the hook in the same way, and he is, as they 
 say, ready for diving. The same rod or long stick is 
 used that our rustic had on the foot-bridge over the 
 splash-boards, only he goes to work now in a different 
 manner. With his frog suspended head downwards, 
 he cautiously walks along until he finds a hole clear 
 of weeds in the middle, and close to the side. Into 
 this he very gently drops his frog, and he pulls him 
 up in the same manner. Presently away shoots the 
 line, he gives the fish time to get the full flavour of 
 that diving " chawly," and then he lets him have it. 
 Says our rustic, " They sees lots on 'em go in head 
 fust, an' swim right away ; but they jacks don't often 
 see 'em cum up agin, feet fust, arter their dive. They 
 wonders what's up, an' they goes fur it." 
 
 I can vouch for the truth of this, for I have watched 
 the proceeding. " They jacks is like my young uns 
 in apple-time," continues the man ; " they be free to 
 blow their kites out in my orchard as much as iver 
 they likes, an' there's plenty there. But no, thet 
 don't suit 'em ; they must git in neighbour's orchard, 
 just because they apples there be a leetle different.
 
 160 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 That 'ere chawly was a leetle different, an' the jack 
 snapped him." 
 
 Before dismissing our pike, I would just state that 
 where they are kept in proper that is, moderate 
 number, they are valuable enough, and, as a rule, 
 large where the food is good. I have, however, known 
 waters where, owing to some mistaken notion, it was 
 not allowed to angle for them, and in such they 
 dwindled down to little more than the size of a large 
 herring ; and so many of them were there, that not a 
 sign of other fish was visible. Fish of prey they cer- 
 tainly are, and when they have to feed on one another 
 the diet does not in any way suit them. When things 
 get to that pass, the only thing to be done is to sweep 
 the lot out, run the pool' dry and clean it, and then 
 after a time introduce fresh stock. 
 
 A great outcry has been made against pike getting 
 into certain waters ; yet I think they are beneficial 
 in moderate numbers in preserved waters. They 
 keep coarse fish, such as roach and others, in proper 
 proportions. When a pond is overstocked with roach, 
 dace, and tench, the angler will often get a day's 
 annoyance instead of a day's fishing. 
 
 Where you find pike, you will generally come across
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 161 
 
 perch. It is not invariably the case, perhaps, but it 
 is the exception otherwise. From some cause or 
 other the perch has become scarce where he was at 
 one time to be found in plenty ; and I can only 
 account for the fact in one way. The bottoms of 
 streams, ponds, and rivers, are not so clean as they 
 once were. It is now only in very remote districts, as 
 a rule, that you find any one of the above waters with- 
 out a deposit of mud, more or less odorous. The 
 food-supply has altered ; it is a long time now since 
 I have seen a large gathering of that nimble little 
 fellow, the fresh-water shrimp. At one time one 
 might watch the sandy bottom boil up, all alive with 
 countless myriads of them, where the water ran clear 
 through the meadows ; but this has not been so of 
 late years. They were fine food for the perch. He 
 could revel then in loaches, gudgeons, minnows, water- 
 snails, and shrimps. Then he existed in numbers ; 
 and more than that, he reached a good size. 
 
 Only once of late years have I seen what could be 
 called a good perch, perfect in shape, condition, and 
 colour. That one weighed nearly two pounds. When 
 found, I made a note of him by placing a canvas on 
 my easel and painting him full size. One hears 
 L
 
 1 62 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 anglers of limited experience, when looking at fish pic- 
 tures even by such a prince of fish-painters as Rolf 
 say they have never seen such pike, perch, trout, or 
 grayling as those before them. I have not the least 
 doubt of it, for it is only in the best waters, both as 
 regards quality and quantity, with a first-rate food- 
 supply, that fish arrive at perfection. From certain 
 waters I have had pike and perch that looked nearly 
 as thick as they were long, hog-backed, and with 
 pouches like the throats of the jolly, well-fed monks 
 of old. As to the trout, they were short, thick-set, 
 crimson-speckled beauties. 
 
 It is not always, indeed one may say it is rarely 
 possible to visit such waters. It needs much per- 
 suasive power on our part, and many manoeuvres, to 
 obtain permission even for a very limited time. So 
 say my rustic friends, and I can endorse their ex- 
 perience. It is a matter of no small moment to get 
 permission for even one half-day. And old mills 
 and ancient flood-gates are disappearing fast, and 
 some mill-streams are becoming choked up with mud 
 and aquatic vegetation. Then there is the bother 
 caused by new owners through whose grounds the 
 water runs. These and other difficulties have caused
 
 WAYS OF FRESH- WATER FISHES. 163 
 
 the millers to make use of steam-power. This is 
 the reason why those old timbers, and the rough 
 walls surrounding them, are no longer frequented by 
 perch with erected back fins, examining the stones 
 for loach and minnows. He was once, as we know, 
 a bold biter ; but in some waters he has become very 
 fastidious so much so, that recently what was 
 formerly a famous perch-hole in my younger days, 
 was declared to be perchless ; and the assertion was 
 believed, because no one had ever fished there with 
 anything but live bait. A friend of my own, who is 
 a firm believer in the efficacy of well-scoured dew- 
 worms, having had good sport in various counties 
 with them, tried them in this hole, and to the surprise 
 of the owners of the property, he landed four fine 
 perch, one after the other, in quick time. 
 
 For a glorious combination of colour, give me a 
 fine perch in good condition from good water. Where 
 a moderate rush of water runs from a sluice over the 
 mill-apron among stones, winding hither and thither, 
 and ultimately resting in a deep hole at the foot 
 that is the place where perch love to gather. I have 
 known them congregate formerly in great numbers 
 in such a spot, so that there was hardly comfortable
 
 1 64 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 moving room that is, where they kept to the hole 
 itself. " Oh, they are only perch," said my friend, 
 once, as I stood watching them flash about. Just to 
 give me some idea of their numbers, he got his 
 large cast-net and threw it into the hole. The result 
 was a fine haul of perch, nearly all one size half- 
 pounders. " What will you do with them ? " I asked. 
 " Why, turn them out in the water above the mill," 
 was his reply, " and let them grow larger ; " and he 
 proceeded at once to the business. 
 
 Things are changed now, indeed, and perch have 
 become conspicuous through their entire absence. 
 I should like to see them back again in their old 
 haunts ; for one's earliest reminiscences are associated 
 with them, and paddling as a boy in the mill-stream 
 in the evening, after the water had been shut off, to 
 get loaches for baits. What very strict injunctions 
 our rural fishing instructors gave us not to get little 
 ones, only big loaches, because " they'd ketch the 
 biggest fish, fur the little uns couldn't swaller 'em " ! 
 Well do I remember the first time they let me catch 
 a big perch and get him out, " all by myself." My 
 rod was an osier wand, costing one penny at the 
 basketmaker's. I can feel now the funk I was in
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 165 
 
 after my fish was firmly hooked. Then they told 
 me I had lost him in the weeds, just to tease me ; 
 and when I had got him out, I put him in the skirt 
 of my old-fashioned gaberdine and bolted off too 
 happy to sleep for hours that night because I had 
 caught and landed a good perch. 
 
 Concerning trout, I feel inclined to say but little, 
 for the ablest pens have written so much about them 
 that I am on ticklish ground. Of the different 
 varieties of the common brook-trout I will not speak, 
 because I have seen such differently shaped trout, 
 and ones so variously coloured, taken from the same 
 stream within one short half-mile of one another. I 
 once saw six trout, all half-pounders, and some of 
 them larger, captured one evening at the very height 
 of the season under an old bridge. Not one brace 
 was alike : each fish differed more or less from the 
 other. These were the common trout of the brook ; 
 no cross had ever been introduced into that water 
 to make hybrids of them. The man who caught 
 them told me that, a mile and a half lower down, 
 there was a greater difference still. I visited the 
 latter spot, and found he was correct. Some were 
 quite silvery, others were inclined to a golden-brown
 
 1 66 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 tinge; the rest were toned in olive-green on the 
 back. 
 
 Sometimes a large trout will make his home on 
 some bit of water that is connected with the main 
 stream, or in the stream itself. One weighing four 
 or five pounds is not so very rare in certain districts. 
 If a rustic discovers such a one in a stream, he keeps 
 the knowledge of it to himself; if two know of it, 
 they generally agree " to save him for somebody as 
 wants him," and they share the proceeds. When 
 once a large trout has made his hover in a stream, it 
 takes a great deal to move him. He may be seen and 
 fished for, too ; but that is a long way off getting him. 
 
 One day a well - dressed man visited a certain 
 hamlet, carrying the newest of fly-rods ; he intended 
 to fish for trout. Could any one give him informa- 
 tion as to the best place for his day's sport ? As he 
 asked for it at the bar of the small inn of the hamlet, 
 the information was soon forthcoming. One of the 
 customers there told him he knew where there was a 
 big one, and no mistake ; he could show it to him, 
 and then all he had to do was to catch it. The bait 
 took. After a generous " liquor up " and the tip of 
 a shilling, away they started. He saw the fish, and
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 167 
 
 for nearly the whole of a day he threshed that water 
 hard enough to frighten all the trout that ever swam 
 in it. But not even a fish the size of a sprat did he 
 capture. At the inn, before his train started, as he 
 rested for an hour, his guide of the morning appeared 
 and asked him what sport he had had. " Not a 
 single fish," replied he ; adding, " I would spend 
 half-a-sov. in drinks if that trout lay in my basket, 
 or give the same sum to any one who would put me 
 up to getting it there." Five minutes later the native 
 whispered to him, " Did ye mean what ye said ? " 
 The angler pulled out half-a-sovereign and showed 
 it to him. "Bide here a bit," said the man; "your 
 train don't start yet." In less than half an hour the 
 stranger was beckoned out of the bar to see the big 
 trout, still alive and kicking vigorously, on some flags 
 in a basket. He had a hook attached to a piece of 
 broken gut in his upper lip ; not a bruise or a mark 
 was on him. 
 
 " Take him, basket an' all, fur what ye said," quoth 
 the native ; " he's a precious sight too big to go into 
 that consarn o' yourn. And I be werry much ob- 
 leedged to you for this 'ere half-sov'rin, and no 
 mistake."
 
 1 68 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 I was informed afterwards that the fish had been 
 so frightened by the threshing of that would-be 
 angler, that he had retreated to the utmost limit of 
 his hover under the bank, and there he had remained, 
 as only a trout will remain. The cute rustic knew 
 this would be so, and he had simply gone down to 
 the spot, taken off his shoes, and tucked up his 
 trousers, and " groped him out." That is how most 
 of the great trout are captured, but I never saw one 
 that had been groped for that was not shown with 
 a hook in his mouth. A gut hook does not cost 
 much, and it looks so very much better. "Vile 
 poaching ? " No, that was waste land where the 
 big trout was got out. 
 
 And after all, when a fish of that size is in a stream 
 he becomes entirely carnivorous, and feeds on the 
 smaller members of his own species, to say nothing 
 of the way he gobbles up spawn when it is the season 
 for the trout running up for the spawning. So the 
 sooner the great fellow is out of a brook or pond 
 the better. I have seen many large trout captured, 
 beautiful fish. Some of them had made their homes 
 in places where you would be more likely to look 
 for water-voles than for trout. But, with very few
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 169 
 
 exceptions, they were frightened to their hovers, 
 and then groped for. 
 
 Grand fish are caught by our Thames anglers, in 
 a fair fight between man and fish ; and the skill and 
 patience needed to capture a wary Thames trout 
 can only be appreciated by those who have fished 
 for them. That style of angling is unknown to the 
 rustic, yet I have seen a farm-labourer catch a first- 
 rate lot of fine trout with rods and lines that were 
 not worth twopence. 
 
 The silvery quick dace is a great favourite with 
 me, not only on account of his sporting and edible 
 qualities, but for a still stronger reason. He brings 
 back some of the happiest of my angling memories. 
 I see again that bright stream that ran into our 
 river. Huge burdocks, water - docks, and great 
 masses of purple loosestrife, together with sedge 
 and meadow-sweet, grew on the banks. Its sandy 
 margin was the feeding and playing ground of the 
 nimble sandpipers that ran about and flirted their 
 bodies up and down, the whole day long. In that 
 lush tangle I have seen rare specimens of moths 
 and butterflies. The clear-winged hawk-moth was 
 not rare in the perfect little jungle of aquatic growth.
 
 i;o ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 How often he has hummed round my head, and 
 then settled on a blade of sedge close to, looking 
 more like king hornet than a moth ! I admired him, 
 but never attempted his capture. Insects, to my 
 mind, are most beautiful, in fact only in their true 
 beauty, when seen alive. I would that I might 
 write a whole book concerning the natural life in and 
 about that stream. As it is, I may only give a very 
 slight idea of it. 
 
 As a food-stream for fish it was not to be sur- 
 passed. The general run of the bottom was sand 
 and bright gravel, studded here and there with large 
 stones. Bright-green weeds waved in long streamers 
 to and fro in the current so thickly in some parts 
 that they only left a clear channel about a foot wide 
 in the middle of the stream. Where a large stone 
 was bedded, the weeds would wave round it on either 
 side. Below it would be a hole about three feet in 
 depth, and, as a rule, six feet in diameter, scooped 
 out by the current that ran round the large stones. 
 In these holes and they numbered about a dozen 
 down the whole length of the stream the finest fish 
 congregated. 
 
 We had our choice of fish in those days ; if we
 
 WAYS OF FRESH- WATER FISHES. 171 
 
 meant to get perch, we had them or nothing. It 
 was the same with dace. Now these bars of living 
 silver, if of a large size say up to half a pound and 
 a little over are the most fastidious feeders in ex- 
 istence when they come from the river to a clear 
 sharp stream. I knew once that a nice lot were in 
 the stream, yet we had not discovered their haunt. 
 I was determined to find it ; and after some search- 
 ing in the deepest hole, nearest the river, I chanced 
 to see a flash of silver a momentary sight it was 
 shoot to the edge of the bright gravel and then back 
 again. It was enough, they were found ; but how 
 to capture them was the next question. It was a 
 subject for deep consideration. 
 
 What were they feeding on ? Two silver flashes 
 next, and then they were at it. Lying down, well 
 back, I could just see the wriggle of water-shrimps 
 about a yard above that hole. It was enough ; my 
 light rod was put together, the finest of my gut 
 lines attached, and then I got from a rill that ran 
 into the stream some fine water-shrimps, which I 
 placed in a tin box perforated with holes in the lid ; 
 some sand and water, and all was ready. 
 
 Not quite. A water-shrimp jumps along when he
 
 i?2 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 travels ; it will never do for him to go into that hole 
 as though he had got the gout. As I consider the 
 matter, a small piece of sedge comes bobbing and 
 jumping, down in the current. The hint is at once 
 acted on. I break the tip off one of the sedges, and 
 fix it about eight inches above the hook by simply 
 making a slit in the middle of it. Then on the small 
 hook I very carefully fix a shrimp, and hidden from 
 sight by a huge burdock, cast up-stream above that 
 hole. Down comes the sedge-tip dancing up and 
 down, it nears the hole, is over it, and for one brief 
 moment down goes that tip of flag. Snick ! we have 
 him, and at once get him out and down-stream. I 
 got six of the finest of dace that I have ever seen 
 out of that hole. Then they left off biting, and I 
 left the stream. They had began to look suspiciously 
 on the bit of flag-tip ; and when fish begin to get shy, 
 they are best left. 
 
 Fine eels lived there sharped-nosed or silver eel, 
 and the broad-nosed or frog-mouthed eel. The last 
 named is a ferocious feeder. A large eel of this 
 species will make his home in a place that one 
 would never suspect. To give an illustration of his 
 ways, a man with his boy, one I knew well, had
 
 WAYS OF FRESH-WATER FISHES. 173 
 
 gone out fishing. The boy was little, and he 
 teased his father so much to let him fish also, that 
 the man put a dead gudgeon on part of a broken 
 jack-line, placed the child on the bank where the 
 water was so shallow that he could not possibly 
 drown himself if he tried to do so, and then left him. 
 Close to the boy's feet was part of a broken wattle, 
 kept in place by a couple of stumps, for the bank 
 was a little loose just there. Whilst the boy was 
 drawing his dead dudgeon to and fro fishing, as 
 he termed it something poked its head out and 
 nipped his gudgeon, leaving the hook bare. The 
 boy just caught sight of the head, and it puzzled 
 him. Off he ran to his father. " Dad," said he, 
 " I want another gudgeon, for a great toad hev got 
 the fust un." 
 
 His father walked back with him to see the place 
 where the toad took the fish. On the boy's tackle 
 he fixed another dead gudgeon, and he drew it 
 backwards and forwards as before. Out shot the 
 head, took the bait, and vanished ; but he was 
 hooked this time: not captured, however, for when 
 a strain was put on him, he threw his tail over a 
 bit of the wattle it was nearly level with the sand
 
 174 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 and then with a vicious dart he shot into the 
 stream, breaking the rotten gimp like a thread. 
 Later on he was captured ; his weight was five 
 pounds. When the time for migrating came round, 
 I have known enormous eels caught in that pure 
 bright stream, which I grieve to say exists in the 
 same happy condition no longer.
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 So much has been said about our over- populated 
 country, that my title might be supposed to indicate 
 some Ultima Thule beyond seas. I have in my 
 mind's eye, however, stretches of table-land, com- 
 prising the border limits of the Wealds of Surrey, 
 Hampshire, Sussex, and Kent, which are, so far as 
 human beings are concerned, practically no man's 
 land. 
 
 A walk of one hour from either of the three 
 stations that lie near to that much-frequented little 
 town in Surrey which was mentioned by Charles 
 Dickens in connection with Mr Samuel Weller and 
 the Reverend Mr Stiggins, will bring one to the top 
 of a breezy and well-wooded common, command-
 
 1 76 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 ing a grand view, which includes many varied points 
 of interest. The firm and smooth highroad leads 
 right over the common. In certain conditions of 
 the atmosphere the huge dome of St Paul's Cathedral 
 is distinctly visible, far away on the horizon, over 
 distant woodlands ; nearer to us the palace of glass 
 and iron glistens in the sunlight ; nearer still the 
 grand stand on the Epsom Downs race-course shows, 
 looking from this distance, like a small fleet of old- 
 fashioned three-deckers. As the cloud-shadows pass 
 over it, I seem to see once more the i2O-gun boats 
 at anchor off the garrison point of Sheerness. Old 
 houses of some note lie at your feet, so to speak : 
 the Deep Dene mansion, Juniper Hall the home of 
 French refugees of repute who fled from the Reign 
 of Terror Camilla Lacy, Polesden. On our left 
 stands the house of the Master of Denbies. 
 
 As we pass on, a wilder country the Weald of 
 Sussex opens out. That tower in the far distance 
 marks the edge of the forest that at one time ran 
 the whole length and breadth of a county, according 
 to what the old chroniclers tell us. Redlands and 
 Coldharbour, Leith Hill, Holmbury, and Ewhurst, 
 with the Blackdown range of hills, are all before us,
 
 NO MAWS LAND. 177 
 
 in their perfection of autumn's shades and tones of 
 colouring. An American friend who was lately here 
 with me, as he looked over the splendid scene, said, 
 " This is Indian summer in all its glory ! " 
 
 The trees begin to thin off, and wild scrub takes 
 their place. There is furze of the common sort, and 
 the dwarf variety ; also heath, brambles, and sloe 
 bushes, locally termed pickets. Firs take the place 
 of oak, ash, and beech ; and the bracken is thin. 
 As we jog on, we leave the common behind us and 
 reach the edge of No Man's Land. Here you are 
 alone, and you feel it. Strange that in two hours 
 one can pass from London, with all its vast popula- 
 tion and busy hum of life, its aggregation of wealth, 
 and of human passions noble and vicious, into a 
 land of silence, and, in some parts, of desolation. 
 The people who are scattered here and there seem 
 to belong to a different race from ours, and to speak 
 a dialect peculiar to themselves. If you should 
 chance I use this word advisedly to meet a 
 human being, you may speak as plainly and as de- 
 liberately as you possibly can, yet in nine cases out of 
 ten you will be obliged to repeat your question twice 
 or thrice before the rustic will grasp your meaning. 
 M
 
 178 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 The woods on either side of the narrow road are 
 old ; trees have fallen, others are falling : young ones 
 have sprung up unheeded and untended. To one 
 accustomed to woods and woodcraft this tells its 
 own tale. We are travelling through wild country, 
 though as yet only on its borders. Presently a 
 chimney-stack shows in a copse off the roadside, 
 and, as we pass it, we find it belongs to a very old 
 but substantially built cottage. What strikes us 
 most about it is the narrowness of the window- 
 casements. So very small are they that you might 
 almost fancy the folks had feared to admit the 
 blessed air and sunshine of which they could have 
 had little, indeed, in any case surrounded as the 
 place is by the dank air from the old trees. The 
 woods and thickets, including the undergrowth, are 
 so thick that at mid-day an unwholesome moisture 
 reeks and broods over all. The lead - lights that 
 originally filled those openings have been replaced 
 with cast-iron ones as small as the ones that were 
 first fixed there. At some remote date these have 
 been painted white, and they seem wholly out of 
 keeping with the old place disturbing the fitness 
 of things. They look now like skeletons hung about.
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 179 
 
 No man, woman, or child is to be seen not even 
 a dog though we doubt not keen eyes are watching 
 us as we pass along, for a strange face is a note- 
 worthy object here. As a rule, I never go to the 
 door of one of these lonely cottages unless I am 
 actually compelled to ask my way. For one thing, 
 there is certain to be a dog about somewhere, and 
 more likely than not he is loose. You may get up 
 to the door without the brute's appearing to notice 
 you in the least, but you will not go out of the gate 
 again in the same state of security. If you knock 
 I speak from experience no answer will you get. 
 Some of the inmates, however, will be deliberately 
 taking stock of you from some crack or cranny 
 of the place. You turn at last to go, and find that 
 the dog has come out upon you from some hole or 
 corner, and is close behind you, giving you very 
 plainly to understand that you will not go out at 
 that gate until he knows what you have come in 
 for. There is no mistaking him ; if you appear to 
 do so, he is fully prepared to settle the matter in 
 his own way. 
 
 I feel there is no use in trying to shuffle ; so I 
 gently shift my hold on a trusty ash staff, my in-
 
 i8o ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 variable companion in these wanderings, until the 
 thick end, where all the nourishment had been con- 
 centrated, is to the front. Now if the worst comes, 
 it will fall heavily arid convincingly. 
 
 The door opens just a few inches, and a head 
 shows indistinctly in the inner gloom, asking, " What 
 do ye waunt ? " Direction to a certain place which 
 I know to be near at hand, I politely say. " I doan't 
 'member naunt about it, I doan't," is the churlish 
 answer. The door is sharply banged to, and the 
 dog at a secret sign wags his tail amicably and re- 
 tires to the place he sprang from, behaving, the cun- 
 ning old man-pleaser, just as though he had known 
 one all his life. 
 
 As a rule, I avoid these lonely cottages as I would 
 a plague-stricken dwelling. Sometimes there are two 
 dogs round, which does not improve matters. 
 
 As we pass on, walnut-trees show in the hedges, 
 which are mainly composed of hazels, from ten to 
 twenty feet high. No human figure is to be seen 
 yet of either sex ; and we wonder where the in- 
 habitants can be, for the huge fields we see from 
 time to time are heavily cropped with roots. We 
 turn at a bend in the road, and the hazels give
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 181 
 
 place to wild plums, the black and the lighter 
 bullace ; crab-trees and more walnuts show ; another 
 turn, and we have on our right a walled farm. I 
 have never seen a building such as this excepting 
 in Flemish paintings. Away from the road, walled 
 in all round and surrounded by trees, it looks truly 
 grim. There is a sort of out-of-the-world look and 
 feeling about it. In the woods on either side some 
 of the trees are nodding to their fall. The same 
 grizzly -looking casements show themselves here as 
 those we noted before. 
 
 Farther on, we come to a mansion covered with 
 weather-stains and mosses. It has embrasures like 
 some old battlements of ancient days. Old age is 
 stamped over everything. 
 
 Not even a wild rabbit have we seen yet. It is 
 not to be surprised at, for all wild creatures love 
 light and life, and there is little of either here. 
 The whole line of country so far has a desolate 
 and forsaken look about it, so much so that we want 
 to be quit of it. At length, at the end of the road, 
 we see the entrance-gates of what one would sup- 
 pose to be a noble domain. It is surrounded by 
 flint walls. Here at least we are near human beings.
 
 1 82 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 We look over the wall from the bank rising opposite 
 to it, and sweep the wide park with our field-glass ; 
 but time will not allow us to stay here. I know the 
 place by tradition only ; it is a part of this district 
 that I have never taken kindly to for reasons of my 
 own. 
 
 There is a degree of crass ignorance and uncouth- 
 ness about the rustic inhabitants of some localities 
 that must be seen and heard to be properly appre- 
 ciated, and to understand which one must go back 
 into obscure questions of heredity and local history. 
 The folks about here, the real natives of the soil, 
 call the particular class I am writing about "furze- 
 croppers " and " broom-dashers " ; and there is no love 
 lost between the two. 
 
 As they and their surroundings do not interest us, 
 we travel on. Great fields, higher than the road that 
 runs through them, stretch right and left broken now 
 and again by woods, trees, and hedgerows away 
 into the far distance. One can see the lonely farm- 
 steads and mansions dotted here and there. There is 
 barely time to sweep the vast open plain with our 
 glass from end to end, for a resting-place must be 
 found for the night. It is already afternoon, and a
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 183 
 
 long wild trudge is yet before us. Turning our back 
 on the road, we strike by a narrow path into the heart 
 of that wild land, broken with hollows, thickets, and 
 old woods, in which are the homes of all wild things 
 that remain to us. There the badger and the fox 
 live their lives out in quiet. The whole of the weasel 
 family have their strongholds in and about these wild 
 uplands. I have good reason to believe, having in- 
 formation on the subject which I consider beyond 
 doubt, that the marten or marten-cat, which is supposed 
 to be extinct in our southern counties, could be found 
 here if searched for. Indeed I have been assured that 
 he has been found, and not long ago. " No one knows," 
 says one of my rustic friends, "what's livin' in them 
 'ere woods and copses but them as goes in 'em." 
 
 Many years ago I knew these regions well. 
 Through long summer days and the whole of many 
 a night I have watched the life, furred and feathered, 
 that hid itself in this wooded wilderness. Falcons, 
 hawks, owls, crows, magpies, jays, shrikes, all have 
 their abiding-places here. There is a wild beauty 
 about it at each season of the year, and a certain fas- 
 cination in its very loneliness. In some parts not even 
 the tinkle of an occasional sheep-bell is to be heard.
 
 1 84 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 One great drawback there is in the danker portions 
 of the wood midges swarm up in clouds at every 
 step you take. You can hardly distinguish the fero- 
 cious poisonous atoms, but you feel them horribly ; 
 and they drive you almost frantic. Many of the wild 
 creatures have owed their lives to those minute in- 
 sects settling on the nose of a shooter just as he had 
 put the gun to his shoulder. And then there is the 
 stoat fly that swarms in this locality, to the torment 
 of both man and beast, a shining, grey-looking insect, 
 sometimes three-quarters of an inch in length, that 
 first hums softly round you and then settles, light as 
 thistledown, on some unprotected part, the neck by 
 preference. Before you are sure what is the matter 
 he has filled himself from your veins like any leech. 
 These and other annoyances will exasperate you be- 
 yond endurance if you explore here for any length of 
 time. 
 
 Even the rabbits and the hedgehogs suffer tor- 
 ments ; in fact, some are bitten to death, literally. 
 The pursuit of knowledge is ever attended with diffi- 
 culties. A great fuss is made about the mosquitoes 
 in tropical climates. I cannot believe they are at all 
 to be compared with the "stoats" and midges of
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 185 
 
 No Man's Land. In no marsh or swamp have I ever 
 been so severely punished as in the Surrey thickets of 
 these table-lands. 
 
 Mice of all kinds abound, providing food for the 
 vipers, or adders as they call them here, which 
 abound. In fact, it is a paradise for them. I have 
 handled our British reptiles freshly caught and 
 examined them minutely with impunity. In fact, I 
 may boast of as near an acquaintance with them, 
 perhaps, as any man, and I have often wondered at 
 the measurements of snakes and vipers given in the 
 published works of a celebrated authority on the sub- 
 ject which I have by me. He quotes much from the 
 New Forest point of view, and I can only conclude 
 that the reptiles must be small in that district; for I 
 have caught with my bare hands vipers by the side 
 of which those figured and described in his book 
 would look like puff-adders. The same fact struck 
 me on the last visit I paid to the reptile-house at the 
 Zoological Gardens. In the district referred to in 
 this paper they are, when full-grown, as thick and 
 long as those described by Mr John Colquhoun in 
 ' The Moor and the Loch,' as killed or captured by 
 him on the shores of his own mountain lochs. Like
 
 1 86 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 himself, I have made one of the reptiles disgorge a 
 " dog-mouse," as the rustics call it, the large-headed 
 short-tailed field-vole or grass-mouse, which is as large 
 as a half-grown rat. The measurements of this little 
 nibbler, by the way, in all the natural history publi- 
 cations I have as yet seen, are far below the mark. 
 
 Conditions of course vary in different localities. 
 "Wisdom is justified of her children" in every de- 
 partment of life, and the fitness of things is main- 
 tained. Where there are large field-voles and large 
 frogs, there will be large vipers and snakes to swallow 
 them. I do not know why the smooth snake the 
 so-called coronella is not mentioned in the book I 
 referred to first ; one which is well enough, so far as 
 it goes, and its illustrations also are accurate, but for 
 some reason or other its author has left that smooth 
 snake out in the cold, just as the gerfalcon was by 
 the writer of ' The Falconer's Favourites.' 
 
 To those who keep falcons and hawks, the immense 
 fields through which we are passing would e fine 
 places for a flight when the crops have been cleared ; 
 for the stone-curlew, or thick-knee, frequents them, as 
 well as flocks of green plover, to say nothing of par- 
 tridges, both- the common and the French variety.
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 187 
 
 This wild, stone-littered and bramble-covered district 
 in many parts suits the latter bird to perfection. 
 Pheasants also roam far out, so that a good hawk 
 would truss her quarry before cover could be reached. 
 One thing is certain, these stretches of land have for- 
 merly been hawked over, and they may be again. 
 
 It is past three o'clock, and we have still miles to 
 walk before we can find refreshment and rest, which 
 we feel we shall need long before we are likely 
 to get it. I had begun to fear we were missing 
 our way, but familiar landmarks show themselves, 
 which, considering it is twenty years since I last 
 struck on this track, is reassuring. Turning by a 
 thicket a great stretch of level ground is in front of 
 us, and there, a little to the left, is a once famous 
 old race-course. The track is plainly visible, the 
 whole of it, although it has not been used since 
 the old lord's time. There, too, are the remains of 
 ancient posts and rails, shattered into flinders and 
 tatters, which are now only held together by the 
 fungi and lichens that have lived and rooted in the 
 very fibres of the once stout oak timbers. The 
 sun is getting rather low, and all is becoming illu- 
 mined with a weird light, so that the place looks and
 
 1 88 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 feels eerie. It impresses me the more because the 
 last time I was here I heard the history of this spot, 
 and stories of its people, from one of the old lord's 
 own retainers. I saw the noble mansion too, then 
 one of the finest brick houses I have ever seen, or 
 ever shall see. Its roof showed from the fine park 
 two miles below us. Both inside and out it was 
 familiar enough to me, for I have worked on it my- 
 self. Directly you entered the long stone pas- 
 sage, from a side or business entrance leading from 
 the park, you felt you were in one of the famous 
 mansions of a past age. Everything, from basement 
 to roof, was on a grand scale. Massive woodwork in 
 profusion showed everywhere. The doorways had 
 each of them nearly enough timber for the building 
 of what is nowadays considered a good room. Fluted 
 and carved, the work was a perfect mine of wealth so 
 far as skilled labour was concerned. All was good 
 and thorough doubtless a source of lifelong satis- 
 faction to both owner and builder. To myself it was 
 always a joy to be there, and my business made me 
 intimately acquainted with it and all its surroundings. 
 The hall was grand : a carriage and pair might have 
 driven in and out of it. As to the art treasures con-
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 tained within its walls, it would be useless for one to 
 attempt to describe them. I thought I had seen some 
 of the greatest works of famous men, but here indeed 
 I found and was allowed to study some of their 
 masterpieces, both in painting and sculpture, that 
 seemed finer than any I had known of before. The 
 rooms being noble had noble pictures to adorn 
 them, only four usually to each room, but each one 
 nearly the size of the wall it hung on ; and nearly all 
 of them represented the natural life, in some form or 
 other, of fur, feather, and fish. How often I stood 
 before the portrait of a cassowary that hung in one 
 room, having as a companion picture a grand ostrich, 
 life-size, most minutely painted ! In the cassowary 
 painting, a monkey, inimitably represented, was gaz- 
 ing at that bird from a gale pier. 
 
 Another favourite of mine was a huge canvas, on 
 which was a farmyard, the poultry portion of it, at 
 least. Besides peacocks, guinea-fowls, and the usual 
 feathered occupants, there was a barn owl in a corner 
 of a pigeon-cote, being mobbed by a flock of cheeky, 
 chirrupping sparrows. The bothered look of the owl, 
 and the noisy impudence of the sparrows, was a thing 
 to see. The free dashing manner in which the whole
 
 igo ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 was painted was wonderful, and it showed the artist 
 to have been a true naturalist. All who have drawn, 
 or tried to draw sparrows, know how difficult those 
 birds are to depict truly ; yet here was a whole roost 
 of them ; you could almost hear their noisy din, as 
 they choutered and scuffled about the poor owl. 
 Another picture represented a net drawn on shore, 
 from a lake ; pike, carp, tench, and eels were there, 
 enveloped in its meshes, a fine heap of fish, all 
 bundled up, wet and glistening. The net had evi- 
 dently been left for a time, as five or six herons had 
 flown down from their heronry and were minutely 
 examining that fine haul. 
 
 An old retainer, bent nearly double, but with all 
 his wits about him, told me that the old lord had 
 been "a most menjous mighty gentleman for all 
 sporting life," as his collection of pictures showed. 
 They represented outdoor life of the early and 
 middle part of the last century. On the wall, at 
 the foot of the grand staircase, hung the portraits of 
 his famous grey racer, and the jockey at its head. 
 For background there was a bit of the old race-course 
 and sky. I never knew who was the artist ; but the 
 whole thing was a magnificent illusion ; it made you"
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 191 
 
 fancy you were looking out of a great window at a 
 man and horse on the turf outside. To use an artist's 
 slang expression, " there was not a bit of paint about 
 it ; " the horse and his jockey lived and breathed. 
 
 The first time I was in that place it had just been 
 opened after having been shut up for a quarter of a 
 century ; and from what I could gather, it appeared 
 the noble owner had closed the house after the death 
 of his young wife, and never visited it again. The 
 only living creatures that ever entered it during the 
 twenty-five years were two women-servants who had 
 grown old about the place ; and they only let in light 
 and air at rare intervals. 
 
 The garden and stables were a long way from the 
 house, in the grand deer-park. Below these were the 
 fish-ponds and stews. A truly sad sight was that 
 once fine garden, gone to ruin and disorder. The 
 fruit-trees, such of them as were left erect many lay 
 prone on the ground still bore fruit after a fashion, 
 peaches, nectarines, plums, and pears. The grape- 
 houses, rotting as they stood, had fallen down through 
 decay. Rafters and lights, plate and brickwork, all 
 had tumbled in ; and the vines had availed them- 
 selves of all this litter and confusion, and climbed
 
 192 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 about the ruins in luxuriant profusion, bearing fruits 
 untended and uncared for. On and about the clusters 
 butterflies and lizards darted and played, whilst the 
 viper basked in the sunlight. 
 
 An entomologist would have thought himself in a 
 paradise of insect -life within those old walls. It 
 seemed to me as though the very spirit of desola- 
 tion had made his home in that old garden. Over 
 the lawn and on the terrace of the forsaken man- 
 sion vipers swarmed to such an extent that the 
 front part of the house was regarded by the rustics 
 far and near as the embodiment of everything 
 evil, or of ill omen. The hurtful creatures basked 
 not only on the moss-grown stones of the terrace, 
 but even on the flags of the portico ; and on the 
 winding walks in the dell it was even worse. This 
 dell joined the terrace, and it had long been covered 
 with a mass of tangled herbage and tree-branches. 
 This again joined a secluded portion of the deer- 
 park, which had a southern aspect. No wonder the 
 reptiles congregated in this harbour of refuge ; they 
 know well where they are in safety. 
 
 When a change came and this region of desolation 
 and decay was to be awakened into blooming life
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 193 
 
 again, it was a matter of serious consideration how 
 to get rid of these vermin. " Turn pea-fowl into the 
 terrace portion of the grounds, and a half-fed rough- 
 bred pig with her litter into the dell for a season," 
 was the advice, given by one who knew what he was 
 talking about. This advice was speedily acted on. 
 Peacocks soon paraded all over the terraces and 
 gardens, and fierce porkers rooted about in the dell, 
 to such good purpose, that in an incredibly short 
 time, no viper, snake, or slow-worm nor even a frog 
 showed itself. One of the labourers gave me a 
 minute account of the proceedings. " Them pea- 
 cocks went fur 'em like lightnin' a'most wherever 
 one showed out. As fur them pigs, they jest goes 
 up, puts their fore-feet on 'em, tears 'em to pieces a 
 bit at a time, an' champs 'em up. An' if one on 'em 
 gets into a hole they roots him out. They likes the 
 flasher (flavour) o' them 'ere varmints. But, I tell ye, 
 none on us about here wud hev' them pigs ef they 
 wus gin us, arter they bin a-wolfin' they varmin." 
 
 Our domestic fowls will kill anything of that sort 
 
 if the chance offers. I have often watched a fowl 
 
 joint a reptile up and eat it ; an old hen or rooster 
 
 makes no fuss about it, but will split the creature's 
 
 N
 
 194 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 skull with one peck, as though cracking a nut. I 
 believe pheasants also kill and eat reptiles, and I 
 have seen a duck catch a fine slow-worm a deaf 
 adder as the country folks call it and guzzle it down 
 whole. 
 
 " I jest wish as granfeyther's time could cum 
 again," said my young friend, " fur I be dry. Why, 
 when this 'ere place was full swing in they days, a 
 barrel o' beer, with two horns by the side o' it, stood 
 outside the tradesmen's entrance, an' any one that 
 passed that way could hev' a drink ; an' no swipes, 
 mind ye, but the real October stingo." 
 
 I took the hint, and relieved the man's thirst. I 
 wished to draw him out, and there is a saying in 
 woodcraft that has a wide meaning "A dry stick 
 will not slide." 
 
 We reach the park-gates just before the sun sinks 
 out of sight beyond the hills. Memories of days I 
 had not thought of for years come up in my mind. 
 At that point, yonder, the old stag fell. He was the 
 master-deer, and he had broken bounds, had cleared 
 the park-pales, and taken some of the others with 
 him. A lot of deer loose in a crop of roots is a 
 serious matter to the farmer. Besides what the
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 195 
 
 animals eat, there is a much greater quantity spoilt. 
 In their joy at finding themselves in new feeding- 
 grounds, with fresh food galore, they will in quick 
 time fork up a heap of roots with their antlers and 
 fore-feet, which they know so well how to use. 
 
 They were got back again after much trouble ; but 
 soon the old stag thought well to repeat the offence, 
 and he took with him more than before. After again 
 getting them back, the head ranger asked the master 
 what he had better do to prevent the recurrence of 
 such mischief. " Shoot that stag in the morning," 
 was the prompt reply ; " give Ronald the shot, I 
 have other matters to attend to. Early next day 
 the keeper turned out, attended by his constant com- 
 panion, a wiry fox-like collie, one from the Lake 
 district, a " plum-pudding dog," covered with patches 
 of light and dark slate-coloured hair, having one eye 
 light green, with brown specks in it, the other a 
 greyish blue. The creature was nothing to look at 
 certainly, but he was the right sort. He seemed to 
 glide about continually, yet was never a yard distant, 
 and his strangely coloured eyes were continually 
 watching his master's face as he twisted and turned 
 closely about his legs, without ever touching them.
 
 196 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 I was quietly gliding some distance in their wake 
 to see that stag shot. No fear of my being de- 
 tected, for the men's faculties are all centred on 
 the deer. Very cautiously are these moved by the 
 under-keepers from the lake end of the park. A 
 large deer-dog is with the old squire's son not a 
 deer-hound, but a creature between a blood-hound 
 and a mastiff. The huge brute is in a slip, in readi- 
 ness to pull down the fine fellow when wounded. 
 On he comes, a frisky leader followed by his herd ; 
 in no hurry, for so cleverly have they been moved 
 that they are hardly aware of anything being be- 
 hind them. The stag comes on ; soon he will pass 
 in front of his foes. Now he is near enough ; there 
 is a report the crack of a rifle. With a wild 
 toss of the head he falls forward on his knees, but 
 only for a moment, being hit in a spot not vital. 
 He looks round, sees his enemies, and dashes off 
 at his top speed. The great dog is slipped, and 
 despatched to pull him down. He starts with a 
 yell of eagerness ; if noise could kill a poor stag, 
 he would be dead in less than a minute. It only 
 makes the fine fellow go faster, however; and that 
 is all the dog is likely to effect, for as the great
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 197 
 
 brute gets his blood heated in his fruitless efforts 
 to capture, he begins to show an inclination to rake 
 off at other deer that should not concern him. 
 
 As it was now open course, the beaters having 
 come up, it did not matter about the uninvited 
 spectator especially as that part of the park was 
 touched by the highroad running through it ; so 
 I could hear as well as see all that went on. 
 
 " Blundering, savage beast of a dog ! he will never 
 get near the stag," muttered the young squire. 
 
 " Beg pardon, squire," said the keeper ; " here is 
 my dog." 
 
 The young master looked at the strange animal 
 with a smile of utter incredulousness. The keeper 
 understood its meaning, and again he repeated, 
 " Beg pardon, squire," adding, " my dog will pull 
 him down and hold him, too." 
 
 The young fellow whistled to his own great brute, 
 which came without any ado ; and it was put in 
 leash. Then the keeper gave his dog a sign 
 apparently only a look, which the animal returned, 
 his lithe body and tail swaying to and fro the 
 while. His owner pointed with a finger, and then 
 there was a sight worth remembering. A^long grey
 
 1 98 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 form appeared to fly over the grass ; the stag saw 
 it coming, and made for the herd, joining them. But 
 the dog, dashing in their midst like a streak, singled 
 out the stag on which he had, indeed, been intent 
 from the first, although he had dutifully kept close 
 in to heel so far. He ran him at his greatest speed ; 
 the poor stag was going now for life. 
 
 Once or twice he dived down viciously on one 
 side, thinking to cripple his foe by making him rush 
 on to one of his tines ; but it was unavailing, for the 
 dog kept just beyond the stroke. He passes the 
 group, is hard pressed, the fence he had cleared 
 before when after the luscious roots is in front of 
 him. At a bound he clears it, followed by the 
 dog. 
 
 " Lost ! " cries the young man. 
 
 "No, squire," says the keeper, quietly; "we shall 
 have them back presently, nearer to us. Don't 
 move." 
 
 In less than ten minutes one of the watchers 
 whispered, " Here they come ! " 
 
 They came with a rush the stag with his tongue 
 out and his antlers laid back almost on his shoulders ; 
 they would pass quite close to us. The keeper took
 
 .NO MAN'S LAND. 199 
 
 out his hunting - knife, and as the two creatures 
 passed the dog closed. The stag sprang off his 
 feet and came down thud on the turf, his enemy at 
 his throat. In vain the stag struck out with those 
 sharp fore -feet, that would cut like knives on the 
 dog's body if they could reach it. The creature 
 twists himself about like a snake, first on one side, 
 then on the other, evading every stroke of the stag, 
 without letting go of his hold. The keeper steps up, 
 his keen knife is drawn across the stag's throat, and 
 the antlered park-breaker lies dead. 
 
 I wonder where that keeper is now? He did not 
 remain long with the old squire, for he was a man 
 who would have his say when he knew he was right 
 no matter who stood in front of him. I met him 
 once after the time I have been telling of ; but it was 
 far away from that deer-park. He had changed 
 his vocation, and became a shepherd on a large 
 upland sheep-farm. His wonderful dog still followed 
 him closely. 
 
 " People make a rare fuss about deer," he observed, 
 as we talked over past times. " I've had to do with 
 'em, more or less, all my life, an' I don't find 'em 
 different in their ways to sheep. Wild or in parks,
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 they mind me o' sheep in lots o' ways ; and if one 
 on 'em breaks bounds, an' there's sheep about, he's 
 sure to find 'em out an' feed with 'em." 
 
 I know this is so ; for one deer was out for weeks, 
 lying up in a wood some distance from sheepfolds, 
 but he joined the sheep at night to feed. 
 
 By the time this episode the killing of that 
 offending stag has passed through my mind, we have 
 gone by the mansion and are out on the highroad 
 again. Another mile will bring us to the little inn 
 where we propose to pass the night. Great changes, 
 so called modern improvements modern destruction 
 rather have been at work here. The land I knew 
 so well remains as usual, but a railway runs close 
 past it, and the pleasant old-time hamlet is in a state 
 of transition. We find the change not one for the 
 better. The homely talk and homely country ways 
 are giving place to more restless habits and modes of 
 thinking. Nothing is more irritating than to see 
 folks whom we have known jog on nicely and com- 
 fortably all their lives, wakened up and trying to ape 
 the speech, manners, and dress of town-bred people. 
 
 As we reach the little inn it is comforting to 
 see that it has not been improved out of knowledge
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 like some of the other buildings. The son of my 
 former host has it now. He has a respect for old 
 times, and the business of the day being over and the 
 house closed, one or two old chums remain behind to 
 talk over modern improvements. One and all harp 
 on the same string, the old lord's time that rare 
 old time, to which distance adds a still greater charm. 
 After a good night's rest and a substantial break- 
 fast, the landlord produces his modest bill, remarking, 
 in answer to our comment of satisfaction at its small- 
 ness, that he does not believe in "swallering folks 
 alive when they stop at his place, for he likes to 
 sarve his customers same as he'd wish to be sarved 
 if he was a-travellin'." This genial host receives a 
 hearty shake of the hand, and we make again for the 
 wild uplands. The valley we have rested in is only 
 what one might call a drain from the higher portions 
 of the land. A great quantity of water lies all round, 
 for the hills are full of it. Directly we clear the 
 hamlet we are once more in No Man's Land, but it 
 differs in character from that we passed through yes- 
 terday. We have left the chalk ; and sand and peat, 
 mixed up with stones, show we are in a fir and heather 
 district.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 The road leads past high banks, evidently land- 
 slips, where the stone in huge blocks crops out, 
 covered in places by tufts of the yellow broom. Birch- 
 trees are plentiful what we should consider fine 
 specimens for this district reaching thirty to forty 
 feet in height. It is not often that such birches are to 
 be seen in the south of England. Black game are 
 about, for we have just flushed three. In climbing the 
 landslip part we set a lot of stones rolling and startled 
 the birds, which sprang from some rush-cover at the 
 bottom. Mountain-ash and junipers show, and great 
 Scotch firs in clumps. Rabbits dot all round about, 
 exceedingly good food for the foxes and badgers ; to 
 say nothing of the buzzards, the common buzzards, 
 which are so very variable in their plumage, that 
 varieties have been taken for distinct species. 
 
 The rough-legged buzzard, that dwarf eagle, pays 
 a visit here at times to feed on these pinwire dotters. 
 The honey buzzard comes also. Of course these 
 wide-winged beauties are shot or trapped, nothing else 
 could be expected of an undiscerning public. We 
 jog on merrily here ; we are in a brighter land than 
 we were yesterday ; there is no dampness, no tor- 
 ment from stoat-flies or midges. This glorious stretch
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 203 
 
 of heath makes one feel glad and thankful that the 
 power and opportunity of watching and enjoying the 
 living wonders of the great Creator has been given to 
 man. I am humbly grateful for my share of this 
 gift, and I lose myself for a while in wondering at 
 the agnostics, so called ; also at the disciples of the 
 theory of evolution, whom, I confess, I regard with 
 feelings not unmixed with aversion. 
 
 In thinking of some of these I lose my head, it 
 seems, and am brought out of my moralisings some- 
 what abruptly by having put my foot in a rabbit's 
 burrow, which sends me sprawling over the heather 
 in one direction and my trusty ash stick in another. 
 
 The great heath or down in front of us is like 
 a vast many-coloured carpet. The autumn weather 
 has been gracious : all is changing, yet nothing has 
 decayed. Delicate harebells nod on their stems all 
 around in fact, there is a profusion of wild flowers ; 
 heath, whortleberry plants, and the trailing species 
 of bramble glow with bright shades and many varied 
 tones in the sunshine ; fine juniper-trees and firs 
 give strength and depth to the whole. Already we 
 begin to inhale the aromatic healing odour -of the 
 fir-woods, through which our way will soon lead
 
 204 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 for three whole miles. There will be plenty of com- 
 pany for us there magpies will follow us chatter- 
 ing noisily, jays will squawk, and the squirrels will 
 scold, stamp, and chatter as we invade their domain 
 and pass through the aisles of their fir sanctuary. 
 What amusing creatures they are when the quiet 
 of their lonely haunts is disturbed ! You can see 
 the ends of the fir-boughs sway and bend as if 
 moved by the wind. Fir - cones fall on you, and 
 you pass over older dead ones which have been 
 shaken off by the rush of the long-tailed, tuft-eared 
 fellows. The resinous balm of the trees invigorates 
 one, and we feel fit for any number of miles still. 
 
 The woods seem too quickly passed through, and 
 we come out to find at our feet, in the long valley 
 below us, one of the most beautiful rural scenes 
 that exists in England. A little hamlet nestles at 
 the very bottom of the hills. What few cottages 
 there are line either side of the valley, with a path 
 in front of each lot. A clear, rippling trout-stream 
 divides them, bridged over for purposes of neigh- 
 bourly convenience in one or two places by rough 
 planks. The fruitful and well-kept gardens are well 
 sheltered from all hurtful winds, down in this hollow
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 205 
 
 of the hills. The bells of the cottagers' own sheep 
 and cows tinkle musically on the slopes above, and 
 they themselves are quiet, decent folks obliging, 
 too, if a traveller needs any help that they can give, 
 or if he has lost his way. It was not always so. 
 At one time I remember this beautiful spot had so 
 evil a reputation, that unless people had urgent 
 business here, they gave a wide berth to the place. 
 In fact, the inhabitants were mostly the descendants 
 of lawless and bad men and women. When I first 
 knew it, the people were under constant and strict 
 surveillance until the worst of them were swept out. 
 It required a man of courage and great muscular 
 power, with full knowledge how to use both in the 
 application of the law, to stand in the shoes of the 
 forest-ranger of the lord of the manor in those days. 
 I remember as though it were only yesterday the 
 day the new ranger passed by the low beerhouse, 
 where all the evil of a lawless gang was planned 
 and worked out. They rushed to the open door 
 in a body and challenged him to fight. He was a 
 Scotchman, and like one of the deer-hounds of his 
 country, he walked gravely and apparently impas- 
 sively by without saying a word, and went into the
 
 206 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 forest. A great rough lout, at that time the terror 
 of the hamlet, rendered pot-valiant with bad beer, 
 followed, deriding him and again challenging him 
 to fight, whilst his loafing drunken comrades ap- 
 plauded and laughed boisterously. 
 
 " Oh, Jack, he'll givin that 'ere new feller a good 
 clumpin' afore he'll leave him." When Jack had 
 got well into the cover of the trees he lost sight of 
 the ranger. 
 
 " Druv' ye, hev I ? Druv' ye, hev I ? " roared the 
 ruffian. " Call yerself a man, do ee ? " 
 
 Suddenly, from behind the trunk of a great tree 
 where he had concealed himself, the new ranger 
 stepped forth and spoke. 
 
 " Eh, mon, but it's ye that'll have to prove yersel' 
 .a mon afore I lose grip on ye." Then setting to 
 work with the grim determination of his race, he 
 seized the great lump of fustian and corduroy, and 
 initiated him into the mysteries of falling heavily 
 against his will, and receiving unlooked - for and 
 crushing blows, without having the power to return 
 one. Then he loosed the bully, who fled. 
 
 When his boon companions saw him return, limp- 
 ing and battered - looking, they wondered greatly.
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 207 
 
 To their eager questions concerning his mishap, he 
 replied surlily that he had " fell up agin summat." 
 
 With a fresh landowner, new regulations came 
 into force, and that unruly crew were dispersed or 
 brought into order. The country itself remains as 
 it was, excepting for the ravages made by the forest- 
 fires. Large gaps here and there are to be regretted, 
 not on account of the bareness of the land, but 
 because those very old furze covers of giant growth 
 are gone, the like never, we fear, to be seen again. 
 It takes a long, long time for a furze stem to reach 
 a growth as thick as the girth of a man's leg. 
 When they were destroyed by fire, a fresh growth 
 sprang up directly the ground got cool and moist. 
 
 I saw the white ashes of that great fire which the 
 foresters had so much difficulty in keeping back. 
 The vast accumulation of fir-needles which had fallen 
 for generations was burnt to a white mass two feet 
 deep in places. One would have imagined it enough 
 to destroy all promise of vegetation for years to come. 
 It was not so. In about six weeks the bare spots 
 were covered with green. 
 
 In certain lonely districts the old feudal system 
 might still be in force. Those families that had lived
 
 208 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 under its shadow for many generations seem to have 
 transmitted some of its influences even to the present 
 race, and the result is not a wholesome one. Boor- 
 ishness does not cling only to the tiller of the soil, 
 however ; the land proprietor is often equally pene- 
 trated with it. Two artists whom I know had heard 
 that there was a most picturesque old farm at the 
 foot of the moorland hills on the border-land of Sus- 
 sex. Starting early in the morning, they arrived at 
 the entrance to the farm-lane after three hours of stiff 
 walking. The lane is a public road, only where it 
 ended and the farm began large gates were fixed, 
 through which there was right-of-way across the 
 farmyards, and out through the gate at the opposite 
 side. The green woodland road was distinct enough, 
 though of late years, ' not once in a blue moon,' as the 
 folks said, had any one gone through by that way 
 towards the hills. 
 
 The proprietor of the place was an ill-conditioned 
 fellow. Possibly when he saw the pair coming up in 
 the distance with their easels and canvasses he judged 
 them to be land-surveyors, for directly they had en- 
 tered by the first gate and closed it, two fierce gaunt 
 dogs cleared the low garden wall, stopping the
 
 .NO MAN'S LAND. 209 
 
 artists, and showing their teeth in a most unpleasant 
 fashion. 
 
 " Hi, master ! Call off these dogs, please," shouted 
 one of the two, catching sight of a man in the rick- 
 yard. 
 
 The farmer sauntered down into the garden very 
 deliberately, leaned with folded arms on the wall, and 
 said, " I don't know as I shall call 'em off. Who be 
 ye, an' who axed you to come this 'ere road ? I don't 
 want a lot of folks as I know naunt about looterin' 
 round, an' pokin' their noses where they ain't wanted. 
 Afore I calls them 'ere dogs in, I wants to know who 
 ye be. Ye kin keep your tempers ; them 'ere dogs 
 hasn't bit ye yet. They be on my own ground ; so 
 be ye." 
 
 " We are artists," was the reply, " and we wish to 
 
 paint your fine old farmhouse. We came from 
 
 for that purpose." 
 
 " Then ye've come on a fool's journey. I wun't hev 
 it painted. What do 'ee mean by talkin' o' paintin' 
 on it ? " 
 
 " Make a picture of it, we mean. You do not 
 understand us." 
 
 " I knows naunt about picturs. You jest clear out 
 o
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 o' these 'ere gates an' go furder afield. Ye doan't 
 paint no picturs here. Come to heel, Wapse ; come 
 to heel, Jerry ! They be goin'." 
 
 As the round-frocked pig-feeder and his two wolfish 
 lurchers passed out of sight, the tongues of the painters 
 were loosened, and all that could be said was said. 
 Some time has elapsed since that expedition, but if 
 one of the pair happens to meet the other, and says, 
 " I wun't hev it painted ! " the other grows eloquent 
 on the subject of gorillas endowed with the gift of 
 speech. Usually he is one of the most even-tempered 
 men I know, but he has often expressed his great 
 regret that he could not have had ten minutes inter- 
 course with that surly farmer with his coat off, 
 always supposing the dogs to have been first got 
 rid off. 
 
 We have made three-parts of the circuit of these 
 thinly peopled uplands, which I have called No Man's 
 Land, and before we go down the hill it is all hill 
 and hollow we look round. Sussex and the weald 
 are in front of us. In descending we pass spots high 
 up on the hillsides where you could get bogged up 
 to your waist if you were not careful. These are the 
 breeding-places of plovers, woodcock, and snipe. We
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 shall have to pass a portion of the great weald before 
 we climb once more, and what a change we find 
 here ! A woodland country. Well cultivated it is. 
 There are vast fields as in the uplands ; but here, 
 in all directions, are rustic cottages, like warm red- 
 brown spots they show against the trees that sur- 
 round them. Large manor farms too, the moated 
 manor-houses of the past, can be seen at intervals, 
 each one the centre of its own lands. It is a truly 
 English landscape ; no other country has such home- 
 like features. Such of these houses as remain are just 
 as they were many generations ago. The moats are 
 there, crossed by wooden bridges in place of the old 
 drawbridges. The carp and tench roll, nozzle, and 
 root there, as in times long past, growing to such 
 a size as would have gladdened the hearts of the 
 monks who used to feast on them. Several monastic 
 institutions were about this district. Many traces of 
 them remain still. The names of some of those who 
 yet farm these lands are mentioned in the Domesday 
 Book. 
 
 Bright dace rise and glide, now here now there ; 
 and striped perch swim to and fro from the clear 
 feeding - stream that comes running through the
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 land, ultimately to find its way to the river far away 
 below. 
 
 Wood only is still burned in the huge fireplaces. 
 The woodwork is all oak inside and out, and a grand 
 oak staircase leads, from what in the olden time was 
 an entrance hall, to the quaint and comfortable sleep- 
 ing chambers. 
 
 Sunshine and life floods the whole as we pass one 
 of these, and the people who inhabit it we know to 
 be kindly and courteous to all who may travel their 
 way. 
 
 The marten-cat, by the way, has been killed not 
 far from Holmbush Tower. Nearly all these old 
 mansions and manor-houses have or have had a 
 belfry, or a bell-tower ; and never a bell-tower yet 
 in Sussex but has its owls, that lodge there in 
 numbers. 
 
 The weald of Sussex is rich in traditions, and full 
 of interest to the antiquarian as well as the field 
 naturalist. 
 
 In bygone days the cattle were often driven into 
 those walled farms, the drawbridges were raised, and 
 the bell was tolled to let all around know that raiders 
 were out. There was good cause for moats and high
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 213 
 
 walls at that time. And after all these years a 
 remnant of that raiding element is still evident 
 among the rustic population. " What's bred in the 
 bone will out in the flesh." 
 
 Nowhere have I seen by river-bank or stream such 
 lush aquatic weed and tangle as that we are looking 
 at now, in the moat and feeding-stream of this par- 
 ticular old farm. 
 
 Huge docks, burdocks, water - parsley, hogweed, 
 flags, rushes, and hawkweed, with a host of other 
 plants, are all mixed up in a glorious flashing con- 
 fusion of colour which is worth going miles to see. 
 As I look over one of the bridges I notice the tips 
 of the great docks and water-plantains move, and 
 peering into that deep clear hole I see oh, most 
 tantalising sight to one who loves his fishing-rod ! 
 a school of large perch swimming to and fro on the 
 feed. The sun is getting low and my shadow is 
 thrown far back from their swim, so that they have 
 not been alarmed. They are searching among all 
 the submerged stems and leaves for water-snails, 
 and other things that love to hide in such situations. 
 
 A picture that a friend of mine painted of this 
 manor-house, and all the wild moat tangle that sur-
 
 214 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 rounds it, a wonderful and true study of southern 
 brook tangle, is before me as I write. Some day I 
 hope it will be before the public also. A noted im- 
 pressionist, whose acquaintance this friend had once 
 made in town, for his canvasses do occasionally 
 grace the walls of the Academy heard him speak 
 of this lovely place, and became fired with a desire 
 to paint here. He asked my friend if he would 
 direct him to the spot. " Certainly," was the reply ; 
 and at an appointed time he met the London town 
 man at the nearest railway station. After that they 
 had a five miles' walk before them, and art was dis- 
 cussed as they went : from Michael Angelo right 
 down to Millet and Landseer all were trotted out 
 and jumbled together most glibly by the impres- 
 sionist. My friend, much the elder man by years, 
 that is listened in silence, as middle-aged people are 
 wont to do nowadays, in the presence of their juniors. 
 He had a small canvas under his arm. The fine 
 picture that now hangs before me he had left with 
 the kindly occupier of the manor farm. When they 
 arrived at the spot the town man strolled round to 
 my friend's easel, and then the expression of his face 
 altered, and it grew longer considerably. Holding
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 215 
 
 his chin in his hand, he said, " I see I have made 
 a great mistake ! " After all he was candid, and he 
 owned that he had received then and there the 
 impression that such moat tangle as that he could 
 never paint ; all his peculiar artistic fads and theories 
 failed him before my humbler friend's subject. 
 
 The light fades, night is coming ; we have, how- 
 ever, a good resting-place near, for this, the second 
 night of our wanderings. The church shows first, and 
 then a little inn, with about half-a-dozen cottages. 
 All seems just as it used to be many years ago, and 
 I go to make a few calls, and to find out, if I can, 
 some of the old folks I once knew so well. It seems 
 a reading-room has been established, and a young 
 men's friendly society is in full swing of prosperity. 
 This is wonderful, for the hamlet had once a very ill 
 name, one which it fully deserved. No stranger 
 could pass through without insult of some kind, in 
 former days. If this was resented, the man would 
 have a bad time of it, for the cowardly hulking 
 fellows would combine, and do in a body what they 
 dared not single-handed. 
 
 This bad state of things had, I believe, its first 
 check when repairs about the old church were con-
 
 216 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 sidered necessary. It is a recognised fact that when 
 you once begin to pull old places to pieces and to 
 patch them up, you hardly know where to stop. It 
 was so in this case, and a number of workmen 
 myself with them were necessarily thrown for a 
 considerable time into that hamlet, where strangers 
 were an extraordinary novelty. 
 
 Where to lodge was the consideration. The land- 
 lady of the inn, being evidently a nice motherly old 
 soul, we agreed to go there all together, if she would 
 put us up. She gladly consented to give us her 
 largest room to ourselves ; there was still ample room 
 for her limited regular customers. For about a week 
 all went on quietly ; but after that time the natives 
 who frequented her house began to grumble about 
 " them 'ere dandy-lookin' fellers hevin' nigh all the 
 house atwixt 'em. They waun't a-goin' to hev it, 
 they waun't." 
 
 This was all put down as mere vapouring, and no 
 one was in the least upset by it. Three days later, 
 when we had all settled down comfortably for the 
 evening, a rude voice was heard addressing some one 
 of his own kind in the neighbouring room : " Tell 'ee 
 what, us hed best hustle that 'ere lot out, neck an'
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 217 
 
 crop, an' throw 'em in ter hoss-pond, one arter t'other." 
 It was the head bully and ruffian of the hamlet who 
 had come in to have a spree. His companions had 
 primed him with ale in plenty, and as he warmed to 
 his congenial subject, he roared out " Did us send 
 fur 'em tu cum ? I axes ye all onst agin, did us send 
 fur 'em tu cum here ? " 
 
 To this appeal his friends shouted, "No, us did 
 not." 
 
 " Very well, then, us ain't a-goin' tu hev 'em, an' us 
 won't." 
 
 " Hooray ! " shouted the company, at their loudest. 
 
 " Look at thear cloathes ! cloth, all on it. What 
 business they wearin' cloathes better than us, eh ? 
 An' they 'arns more money, an' they doan't work like 
 we, niver did in all their mortal lives. A lot o' lo- 
 cusses, thet's wut they be. Let's clear 'em out ! " 
 
 Here the orator got dry, and there was a lull. By 
 the clink of glasses and the many invitations he had 
 to drink from all sides, he must have refreshed him- 
 self considerably. 
 
 Presently he resumed. " Look at thear hands. 
 Call 'em hands ? thear gal's hands." 
 
 He had made a decided hit here, apparently, in
 
 218 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 the estimation of his audience, for they roared and 
 thumped the tables like so many wild beasts at 
 play. 
 
 Not a word was spoken among us, but one and all 
 we were quietly making up our minds no one should 
 be put into that horse-pond in a hurry. 
 
 Once again the ruffian bellowed out "As to that 
 'ere head un as they call him, ef I gits hold on 
 his gal's hands, I'll crush un like apples in cider- 
 press. Cum on, lads, I be goin' tu start the job ; I 
 goes fust, you wait outside door, ye kin cum in 
 arterwards." 
 
 Blundering footsteps approached our door through 
 the inn passage ; it was opened, and in walked the 
 impersonification of a ruffianly lout. As he glared 
 round, no one spoke or moved. This disconcerted 
 him, and he threw up his cap, yelling, " There's my 
 hat fur the best man, or all on ye." 
 
 Very quietly the " head un," with the " gal's hands," 
 rose from his chair, saying, " You have made a mis- 
 take, my friend ; this is a private room, and you had 
 better leave it, and shut the door after you, or it will 
 be the worse for you. Now, go ! " 
 
 For a moment the brute was dumfoundered ; then,
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 as the meaning of these words entered his thick head, 
 he roared out, " The wuss fur me ? I'll " 
 
 What he was going to do was never heard, for, 
 as he made a fierce rush, the " head un " met him, 
 and with his " gal's hands " caught him fair by the 
 throat. The great hulk staggered, and before he 
 could recover himself, or knew what had befallen 
 him, he had received a couple of blows, which sent 
 him down like a log against the opposite wall. 
 
 It was some seconds before he could recover breath. 
 Then he groaned out, " Massy, oh ! alive ! where 
 be I ? " 
 
 " You are on the floor just now, my friend," replied 
 the man whose hands he was going to crush like cider 
 apples. "If you will get up, you and I will transact 
 a little business together." 
 
 The bully fairly whimpered in his drunken panic. 
 " I ain't a-goin' tu be hit like this," cried he. 
 
 " What ! you won't fight, you cur ? " 
 
 " No, I wunt." 
 
 Seizing him again his conqueror cuffed him right 
 and left, open-handed. So pitiful were his yells, that 
 the landlady and her daughters came running in, 
 and begged that he might be let go ; so he was de-
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 livered into their charge, as submissive as a rebuked 
 child, to be locked up by the good old lady in a beer- 
 cellar. When he was let out, a little more sober than 
 he went in, he said, " Missus, I b'leeves you've saved 
 my life ; that 'ere genelman vvud 'a bin the death o' me. 
 You'll never hear me mek a row in your house, nor 
 give ye trubble no more. Them ere hands o'-his wus 
 like lumps o' iron hittin' ye. I be took in, an' no mis- 
 take." He kept his word, and was quiet enough in 
 her house after that. 
 
 His companions had not become involved with 
 him, for when they saw their mighty man of valour 
 go down, they had all suddenly recollected that they 
 had business of importance to attend to at home. 
 
 Yes, I find a few old friends still about the place, 
 who laugh heartily with me as they recall this and 
 other scenes during the course of our work at the old 
 church; and we agree that things are now much 
 altered here for the better, in every way. 
 
 It is day again. Our three days' tramp is nearly 
 over, a few more miles will bring us home. As we 
 reach the hills once more, we take a bypath and follow 
 the crests as far as we are able, except where notice- 
 boards warn us that we are on private property. We
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 are now in the beautiful Holmesdale valley district. 
 During our three days' walk we have travelled over 
 what I call truly " No Man's Land," have touched 
 on the borders of three counties, have seen glorious 
 scenery, and watched many a wild creature, as we 
 jogged along. Home, rest, and last, not least, a 
 familiar face and welcome, will be pleasant to us.
 
 222 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A FOREST-FIRE. 
 
 I HAVE mentioned the forest-fires. An account of 
 the largest of these which I witnessed may not be 
 uninteresting. 
 
 " The weather keeps very hot," I remarked to a 
 woodman, as I passed down a glade one evening 
 after a ramble over the moor. 
 
 "Yes, it is hot. There's bin a good spell on it 
 now, nigh on to a couple of months. All under foot 
 is dry as tinder. The top on it, I mean ; it don't 
 meddle with the root part o' things ; for all these 
 hills is chock-full of water, up to their very tops. 
 But there ; you knows all about that. I see ye 
 roamin' about many a time, and wonders what ye 
 find."
 
 A FOREST- FIRE. 223 
 
 All at once, as I stand talking to him, a red light 
 shoots up over the tops of the firs, and sinks down 
 again. Then the distant note of a horn comes 
 through the forest ; the light flashes up stronger 
 than before, and sinks again. The sounding of the 
 horn and the light in the sky mean that the forest is 
 on fire. Entering his cottage quickly, the woodman 
 takes from the wall a cow's horn and blows a blast 
 loud enough to waken the Seven Sleepers. Before 
 its echoes have died away it is answered ; and again 
 the answer is repeated farther on. 
 
 "Wait a moment till I put on my gaiters and get 
 my axe, and we'll go together. It would take a mor- 
 tal power to keep you away from a sight like that, I 
 reckon." 
 
 Over the camp-ground we go, and as we pass up 
 the glade again the light from the fire, as it rises and 
 falls, though as yet far off, flashes bright-red on the 
 trunks of the firs. 
 
 "The wind is this way," my companion remarks, 
 "and it is rising. Hark to the hum in the firs. 
 Things will happen, no one knows how, at times," 
 he continues, as we move on quickly. " But if this 
 has been fired for the purpose like, curse the hand
 
 224 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 that did it ! for there's a lot o' stock o' one sort and 
 another out in the forest at feed, and the fir-needles 
 under the trees, and the heath-tops, will catch like 
 gunpowder." 
 
 Reaching the camp-ground, we see the woodmen, 
 axe on shoulder and billhook at side, passing on in 
 Indian file ; while now and again a blast on the horn 
 is sounded to let the others know that help is at 
 hand. A stranger would wonder where they all 
 spring from ; for no houses are to be seen. There 
 are cottages hid in the glades and hollows, and 
 down paths known only to themselves they come, 
 to aid those who are in danger from the fire. 
 
 " Are you coming on with us ? " they cry as they 
 recognise me. "All right keep up with us." 
 
 " Where is the fire ? " I ask. 
 
 " In the long valley. If they can keep it there 
 it will only clear the firs ; but if it breaks through, 
 there will be wild work to-night." 
 
 And now we near the fire which is raging in the 
 valley below. The firs are all ablaze for two miles in 
 length, a sight to be remembered. 
 
 " Let me have your billhook ; I can use one," I 
 cry.
 
 A FOREST- FIRE. 
 
 225 
 
 " Here you are. I've got my felling axe. Give 
 'em a rattler to let 'em know we are close handy." 
 
 With whoop and halloo we dash down the valley 
 horns sounding. What a sight it is ! Men and 
 boys, some of the latter mere children, cutting, hack- 
 ing, and beating with fir boughs to thrash out the fire. 
 " Here they come, lads, to help up. Well done ! for 
 we are near beat." No time for many words ; the 
 situation is taken in at a glance. The men take their 
 places in knots of twos and threes. The boys are on 
 the edge of the fire with their boughs for beating. 
 
 " Where are the stock ? " is the inquiry shouted. 
 
 " Ahead of the fire ; but in the cover we can hear 
 their bells. They are not far off; they will break 
 cover directly ; look out for 'em ! " 
 
 And now we can see the fire. At racing speed it 
 gathers, in one sheet of flame, running up and over- 
 topping the firs, with one fierce lick clearing all before 
 it. With bellow, snort, and bleat, the animals, mad 
 with fright, break into the glade which parts the two 
 hills. The ponies, some with colts, rush past with 
 shrill neigh and whinny, nostrils distended, and their 
 shaggy manes tossing from side to side. On the crest 
 of the hill they halt for one moment, looking like 
 P
 
 226 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 demon horses against the sky-line. With loud bellow- 
 ing, a cow, having at her feet a three days' old calf, 
 comes in sight. The weak toddler is not able to move 
 very quickly, and the mother, trying the while to assist 
 and guide her calf with her nose, roars in agony as 
 she sees the fire drawing closer to her. " Go for her, 
 lads ! " is the cry. With a rush three of them break 
 through the burning cover, and lifting the calf in 
 their hands, bear it to a place of safety, the mother 
 following close behind. The sheep, in one drove, 
 irrespective of owners, rush up and over the crest of 
 the hill, down in the direction of the trout - stream. 
 Combined with the sound of axe and billhook, and 
 the beating of branches, come the cries of wild 
 creatures just ahead of the line of fire. "Don't let 
 'em suffer kill all that can't clear the fire ! " An act 
 of mercy, for the rabbits shriek with fear, while the 
 hares, bewildered with the smoke and flames, limp 
 about hither and thither. " Thrash 'em out lads ! " 
 "Give 'em a chance for their lives!" "Rouse 'em 
 up ! " are the cries. " Black game ahead. Thrash 
 'em off ! " " There they go ! " Two of these, dazed by 
 the fire, fly right at it. Caught in that sheet of flame 
 they drop like singed moths, to be at once despatched
 
 A FOREST- FIRE. 227 
 
 by the boys who are fighting the flames. The cries 
 of wood-pigeons, partridges, black game, and pheas- 
 ants to say nothing of jays and magpies, and the 
 scream of sparrow-hawk, with screech of missel-thrush 
 and ring-ouzel mingled with roar and crackle of the 
 flames, make a most unearthly din ; while fern-fowls 
 fly and dart in all directions. Many, drawn by that 
 strange fascination which fire seems to have for wild 
 creatures, dart right into it to be killed at once ; their 
 light, loose plumage shares the fate of moths' wings. 
 Insect-collectors can keep away from this locality for 
 many a day to come. The peaty surface, for a long 
 distance, has become a mass of fire. 
 
 Now loud shouts and sounds of horns tell of some 
 fresh misfortune. There is not the least hope of 
 confining the fire to the valley. Within half a mile 
 of the firs, which are now one mass of fire, there is 
 a vast cover composed of furze and ragged black 
 thorns. Between this and the blazing trees is a long 
 belt of heath. The woodmen do their best to keep this 
 from getting alight. All their force is gathered here. 
 Grimed all over, they look like giant goblins as they 
 ply axe and bill to fell the remaining trees not yet 
 caught. No use ! " Stand back for your lives, lads ;
 
 228 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 it is on us ! Stand back ! " With a roar like thunder, 
 and in one red sheet of flame, it burst out and laps 
 the heather. A few hurried words and half the band 
 rush down the hill into the valley beyond. There is 
 a small farm there. The rest skirt the side of the 
 hill, driving all stock that may be in their line before 
 them. I, with my companion, go to the farm. Like 
 men gone wild, they cut and slash and carry all furze 
 and heath away from the farm enclosure. " Well done, 
 lads ! well done ! Saved by the skin of the teeth ! 
 Look ! mercy alive ! " The furze cover is on fire. Not 
 many live things are left to roast there ; they had 
 good warning, and here they come, a mixed flock of 
 birds full bat overhead, showing, in that fierce light, 
 as distinctly as if you had them in your hand, for their 
 flight is low down just overhead, no more. One or 
 two are caught with outstretched hand, tired out by 
 their first flight from the firs in the valley, which 
 has proved to many of their kin to-night a valley 
 of death. Next comes a sight seldom seen : rabbits, 
 a few hares, and right in front of them a fox. As 
 misery makes man acquainted with strange bed- 
 fellows, calamity causes him to rub shoulders with
 
 A FOREST-FIRE. 229 
 
 those he would otherwise most avoid. So it is, too, 
 with the forest animals and birds to-night. On 
 the poor things come, dotting along in what might 
 appear to a casual observer a most unconcerned 
 manner. Those who are familiar with them know 
 better. They are almost stupefied with terror. 
 Blackened with smoke and parched with heat and 
 thirst, we rush on ; for the fire has taken a direct 
 course for the hamlet. There it will be met by a 
 reserve force ready for action. The horns have long 
 before given warning in which direction it is coming. 
 One homestead is in the direct line of fire; only the 
 paling fence surrounding the garden separates it 
 from the moorland. Here come the lads fifty or 
 more of them ; they are met by the force from the 
 hamlet. " Sharp's the word, lads ! " Over a hundred 
 men and boys cut and tear and carry the heath and 
 furze away from about the house to the line of 
 fire, which is now close at hand. More than one 
 youngster is caught up, bough and all, and brought 
 out of its reach. " Here it conies ! Look out ! Stand 
 back!" Shouts, horns, and shrieking whistles give 
 notice to any one who may be below ; and to make
 
 230 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 quite sure a party of men dash down the hill, across 
 the moor, and on to the road which divides a portion 
 of the moor from the other bog-land. In a red-hot 
 sheet of flame, it advances with a roar high up ; driven 
 of the wind, it clears and passes on over the crest 
 of the hill ; and with a rush down the other side, 
 passes over the wet moorland ; then it dies out, 
 stopped by the wide highroad. With clothes 
 scorched and torn, black as sweeps, we called the 
 roll over. 
 
 " Any one hurt ? Speak up ! " 
 
 " No, no." 
 
 " Any stock hurt ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Anybody thirsty ? " 
 
 " Every man jack of us ! " 
 
 " Yes," on all sides. 
 
 "And you shall have the beer, too, if I have to 
 start brewing to-morrow," shouts a voice close at 
 hand. " But I reckon I won't have to do that ; and 
 the young uns them that belongs to the temper- 
 ance and Band of Hope shall have milk ; and if 
 there ain't enough for 'em in the dairy, somebody
 
 A FOREST-FIRE. 231 
 
 will have to milk the cows again before morning, 
 for there ain't no doubt but what that 'ere fire would 
 have done a lot of rampagerous damage not but 
 what it's done enough as it is if you lads hadn't 
 cut away as you did. So you jest come and rinse 
 the smoke and ashes out of your throats."
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 
 
 THERE is a pleasure in going back, as we smoke 
 our quiet pipe in the corner of our own fireside, on 
 those expeditions for the capture of the gamesome, 
 if coarse, sort of fish ; memory calling up not only 
 the fish but the men; those quaint characters, with 
 their tackle of a bygone day, whom Thackeray loved, 
 and even Lytton did not despise to take cognisance 
 of; who have often made Leech's drawings full of 
 flavour, and whose primitive manners and racy speech 
 gave added interest to water-side wanderings. Poor 
 old " fishing Billy," as he was always called ! We 
 know him and his fraternity well. Some of these 
 quietly rest in the village churchyard ; but " rheu- 
 matiz " and lifelong habit leave as yet no rest to Billy, 
 who frequented the water-side so long, that at last his
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 233 
 
 friends stepped in to prevent it, fearing some acci- 
 dent to the semi -paralysed piscator. Fishing for 
 pike on the banks of a river, when winter has set in 
 sharp, is likely, after a man has passed sixty-four, to 
 prove injurious to the system. Dear old reader, 
 beware ! Smoke your pipe, and read of angling by 
 your own or your friend's fireside ; but, like myself, 
 visit the haunts of pike in winter-time only in your 
 mental retrospects, and you will have pleasure enough 
 in recalling many an encounter with jack-pike ; and 
 together therewith can adorn your tale with the dry 
 humour of such attendants on your sports as Billy, 
 or the pathetic character of the man who fished, year 
 in and year out, for a certain one-eyed perch, for which 
 see ' My Novel.' 
 
 But to Billy. Some time before his forcible de- 
 tention round about his home, on the part of his 
 too loving friends, I found him on the bank-side to 
 which I had repaired for the tug of war. It was in a 
 stretch of deep water succeeded by a shallow, alter- 
 nating from a foot to two feet in depth, outside the 
 belt of reeds and water -tangle which rotted from 
 season to season, that Mr Pike had his home. " He 
 lays there," said Billy, shaking his head, " but I can't
 
 234 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 reach him ; 'tis too risky for me ! Give him a turn ; 
 kill him if you can ! " As we neared the haunt of the 
 fish, I prepared for action : I knew I could trust my 
 tackle. The lure was a bright dace of near half a 
 pound, and I intended to spin it. The old boy had 
 been pottering about in his own fashion : he had 
 tried all the means he could think of before he men- 
 tioned the lay of the pike to me. After watching 
 the spot for half an hour I found the pike was at 
 home, and moreover, that he was on the feed. Now 
 for it ! The cast is delivered up-stream and spun in 
 a slanting direction to his lair. There is a sensation 
 like the hooking of a sunken bough, but far more 
 lively. " Take that ! " say I ; and the pike has it 
 home, and no mistake, for he leaps like a trout clear 
 of the water, sure sign that he has got the hook. 
 Then he makes for deep water. It is of no use, for 
 we hit him up again, and turn him for the shallows, 
 where we have him as we please. He is a good fish : 
 Billy calls him a rattler. But that we can see about 
 presently, if all holds good. Smack goes his tail as 
 he hits the water, and he tries to bore down, but it 
 is no good, for the next minute he is at our feet, a 
 twelve-pounder.
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 235 
 
 A favourite haunt of the pike, which we have 
 often visited and hope to visit again if all goes well 
 with us comes vividly before me. An old grey bridge 
 was there, spanning a narrow river in the heart of the 
 woodlands. Nothing is now left by time and winter 
 floods but the crumbling arches and the old track 
 on top : the parapet which protected either side has 
 gone long ago, for the oldest rustic in the village 
 could not tell us when it was in a different condition. 
 Rustic folk-lore hands it down as a tradition and 
 we have found as a rule that there is much truth in 
 rustic lore that the bridge belonged to the Catholic 
 community of olden time that owned the mills above 
 and below it. There it stands, gradually crumbling 
 to pieces : neither waggon nor cart passes over it now, 
 and a very occasional foot-passenger, who, in most 
 cases, carries a rod. There is a sharp run of water 
 above, the home of bright silvery dace, herring-size, 
 and now and again good thick trout, real beauties. 
 These, with the bright glancing bleaks or, as they 
 are sometimes called, willow - blades live in this 
 shallow water above the ruined bridge ; and they 
 keep there, if they can, for they know what is in store 
 for them below. We have seen a shoal of dace throw
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 themselves out of the water when the pike have left 
 the deep water below and rushed for them on the 
 shallows. We have known this to take place once or 
 twice in the season when the shallows had been 
 deserted by them, as they are at certain times. After 
 the run of water has cleared the bridge, it forms a 
 deep pool, wider here than the water above it This 
 bit is the haunt of pike, good ones when you can catch 
 them. I have often come home empty-handed so far 
 asjis/i went, but there is always some slight consola- 
 tion in knowing they are there. And what could be 
 better, for lingering near, than this bit of water? 
 Old oak pollards are dotted here and there ; a lux- 
 uriant growth of ferns and plumy thistles crowns the 
 top of the banks, hanging over in places. Where the 
 rifts have been washed out underneath by the floods, 
 stunted willows, the stone-crop osiers of the rustics, 
 have rooted thickly ; huge docks are mingled with 
 them ; then come the sedges to the water's edge. A 
 fringe of water-lilies, about six feet in width, follow ; 
 beyond there is deep water, free from any obstacles, 
 and just below the pool a shelving sandy shore. 
 
 We are ready. Out shoots the roach to the far 
 side, merrily it spins as it comes across the slant to
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 237 
 
 us ; now for another cast ; out flies the roach in 
 another direction ; as it nears the lily-leaves, a long 
 flash of white shows for one moment. It is all right, 
 he has taken it close home. When we think he has 
 had time to pouch it for we are not using snap 
 tackle first seeing that the line is clear from a foul 
 with the lily-stems, then letting out line, and seeing 
 that all is clear about our feet, very gently we bring 
 it up through the rings, close up, and hold it by the 
 forefinger of our right hand close to the butt. Now 
 for it! Take that! One! Two! What a com- 
 motion ! With a rush the fish leaves his lair for the 
 open water : he springs right out of it, coming down 
 with a great splash, making the water fly in all direc- 
 tions. This we acknowledge by lowering the point 
 of our rod to him. By simply raising it again we 
 have command over him directly. He is a nice short 
 thick fish, so far as we have seen of him, between six 
 and seven pounds in weight ; certainly a plucky one, 
 for he fights like a game-cock. But the game ends 
 in our favour, for we land him on that shelving sandy 
 shore, and admire him greatly. 
 
 I have now done with the pike, but should consider 
 my notes on the subject incomplete did I not add a
 
 238 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 few lines to what I have already said about the tackle 
 and bait used for his capture, and also in regard to a 
 quite other foe of this fish than the follower of the 
 gentle craft. 
 
 As to tackle, have it of the best, neat and strong ; 
 and your baits, living or dead, of the freshest that can 
 be procured. It is the same with pike as it is with 
 certain people who rejoice, as a rule, in excellent ap- 
 petites they require a little coaxing at times. 
 
 The salmon, one of the strongest, if not the strong- 
 est, fish that visits fresh water, is captured with a gaudy 
 lure called a fly, tied on a cast of gut. Pike-fishers 
 have taken the hint lately and profited by it. 
 
 Trimmers and night-lines have been used in some 
 waters lately for the capture of huge pike which had 
 lived there far too long. To the great surprise of 
 those who set the lines, the baits had been taken, and 
 the pike or pikes disappeared. That the baits had 
 been taken they had conclusive evidence, for in some 
 instances a portion of a pike's jaw was found on the 
 hook or hooks. As this occurred on private waters 
 well watched, there was a mystery about it which 
 remained unsolved. Would it not have involved an 
 interference with the business of others to have done
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 239 
 
 so, I could have cleared it up for the persons con- 
 cerned. I know that otters haunt that place, and 
 have done so for years. Those who are familiar with 
 the otter and his ways know that he is very carnivor- 
 ous when the chance offers, like his distant relative 
 the badger, for they both belong to the weasel family. 
 Their dentition proves the fact conclusively. The 
 otter is the amphibious representative of the family. 
 Fur, feather, fish, or frogs, he devours all, as they come 
 in his way. A well-grown dog otter, from twenty to 
 thirty pounds in weight, is, for his size, a very power- 
 ful creature, especially in the water. When Mr and 
 Mrs Otter are " on the root " and sharp set and as 
 a rule they hunt in pairs live things can look out. 
 Those huge pike, free and unfettered, they would not 
 care to tackle. Smaller fish suit them far better, for 
 they can kill them easily ; whereas a big pike will 
 make a fight for it. But when they find one on a 
 night-line, they go for him, the pair of them. One 
 grips him by the gullet, the other near the tail, and 
 they tear him off the hook. Then they drag the 
 great fish to cover. If there is a large wood-pile or 
 fagot-stack near, so much the better; failing this, 
 the river tangle answers their purpose. A small
 
 240 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 furze cover next the banks of the river suits them 
 admirably. 
 
 The dace, in water suited to him, ought to be prized 
 by the angler. Three or four miles of unbroken fi-sh- 
 ing on the same river will, however, show a difference 
 in size and quality of the fish taken which is hard to 
 credit if not personally investigated. A shoal of 
 dace, herring-sized, plump and silvery, well on the 
 feed on a clean wide shallow, give, in my opinion, as 
 good sport as trout. I knew one spot that was noted 
 for fine dace. There was a quiet stretch of water 
 above, gradually lessening in depth as it neared a 
 small island which was covered with the finest feed 
 for cattle. These used to wade into it from the 
 meadows on either side, and graze knee-deep in the 
 rich herbage all the day long. This small bit of de- 
 tached meadow formed two streams that met again 
 before reaching the old bridge, shooting rapidly under 
 the arches on to the broad, bright, gravelly shallow 
 below. As springs abounded here, the water was 
 as clear as crystal. Weeds covered the bottom in 
 places short velvety green weeds, which are the de- 
 light of the angler, for the larvse of the numerous flies 
 live in the weeds and on the gravel. The various
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 241 
 
 species, which are many, before reaching perfection as 
 flies, are called " stick-maggots," a very comprehensive 
 term. Luscious water-snails flourished in the green 
 growth ; whilst near the roots, in every little hollow 
 caused by the current, as the weeds waved to and 
 fro, the water-shrimps scuttled in thousands. Most 
 nourishing fish food for all fish are the nimble 
 shrimps. Through the old arches of the bridge the 
 kingfishers flashed in their flight up and down stream. 
 Where the current had forced up little patches of 
 sand and gravel above the surface of the water, wag- 
 tails tripped ; or the summer snipe or sandpiper, the 
 will-wicket of the river-side, ran nimbly or balanced 
 his body up and down, flirting his tail. Willows, 
 alders, and elms in the meadows, thickly clustered in 
 some places, scattered in others, with the quaint old 
 houses of the village, and the church in the distance 
 looking out over the trees, made a beautiful picture 
 of river-side scenery. 
 
 An artist friend of mine, who can handle the rod 
 as well as he can use the brush, painted it before the 
 so-called improvements for the preservation of the 
 water had taken place. Old bridges when restored 
 lose very much of their artistic value. Some of them 
 Q
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 have been renovated to such an extent as to be almost 
 beyond recognition. When we once went together 
 some distance to paint a very picturesque old country 
 bridge, covered with mosses and lichens of past gen- 
 erations, half hidden in a grand tangle of docks, water- 
 parsley, loosestrife and meadow - sweet a perfect 
 picture as we had been accustomed to see it and 
 found when we got there that it had been restored, 
 we had a few words to say on the subject that need 
 not be recorded. For the brickwork had been cleared 
 off and the mortar-joints fresh painted. The glorious 
 tangle had been cleared away, and in its place were 
 some brand-new posts and rails, painted white. As 
 we returned home we indulged in moody speculation 
 on the mutability of things in general. 
 
 But to return to our subject. I was looking one 
 morning at the scene I have attempted to describe, 
 not with the purpose of fishing, but considering the 
 points for a picture, when down the meadow strolled 
 " Gentle," a youth who got this appellation from the 
 fact of his providing anglers with this most useful 
 bait summer and winter. He was between nineteen 
 and twenty ; as to his clothes, a thing of shreds and 
 patches ; as an angler, one of the best who ever
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 243 
 
 fished that part of the river. His long rod was all one 
 piece, of his own make, but composed of four or five 
 lengths of different woods, well seasoned and skilfully 
 spliced, the joints whipped over in the most workman- 
 like manner. I knew him well indeed at that time 
 all the frequenters of the river-side were known to me 
 more or less. After returning my greeting he asked, 
 " What d'ye think I'm going to hev a flick for this 
 mornin' ? Dace, big uns too ; they're on the feed in 
 the shaller, at gnats little black gnats ! Don't ye 
 see 'em break ? That shaller is alive with 'em. I've 
 been tryin' for 'em, but 'twas no go. Then I gits in 
 the water a goodish bit below 'em, an' I see these 'ere 
 gnats come floatin' down. Out I gits, goes 'ome, an' 
 makes a couple o' casts of 'em ; for I got some of 'em 
 to copy like. One of 'em is on the cast, t'other's 
 roun' my hat. It's a long cast, an' a two-handed 
 one, but I ken reach 'em. I wishes you'd tell us 
 when I'm gettin' near 'em, for they're feedin' a 'bit 
 fine.'" 
 
 He was a brother of the craft was Gentle. Down 
 I went on my knees, then I could see to an inch 
 where they rose at the fly. Never have I seen a 
 better bit of casting then I saw that clever active
 
 244 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 scarecrow perform that morning. One or two pre- 
 paratory flourishes, to get the line out, and the first 
 cast was delivered. " How's that ? " said Gentle. " A 
 yard short from the outside rising fish ! " " All 
 right, I'll hev it next time ! Where are 'em risin' 
 most?" " In the middle." " How's that ?" "Right!" 
 I answer, rising from my knees, " your gnat is 
 among them." It was, for in less than an hour from 
 the time his fly reached the shoal, he had a basket 
 of the finest dace we had ever seen. He was a most 
 disreputable figure to look at, was poor Gentle, 
 but clothes go for nothing ; it is the man one re- 
 gards. Gentle had got most of his schooling down 
 by the river : he could read and write fairly enough, 
 but he said that he had learnt more there than any- 
 where else. And in this he was right ; those who 
 pass all their time in close communion with Nature 
 and in careful observation of her many and various 
 manifestations get lifted above the life of ordinary 
 men. It was so with the simple but true-hearted 
 Gentle. 
 
 That handsome fish, the roach, gives the angler 
 good sport summer and winter. Summer, of course, 
 is the time the general public prefer for fishing, and
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 245 
 
 it is certainly the pleasantest ; but the very best fish, 
 both for size and beauty, are caught, trout excepted, 
 in late autumn or mid-winter. Fish require food in 
 winter-time and they get it by simply shifting their 
 quarters. Any angler of experience will soon find 
 out where they have got to, and act accordingly. 
 Roach from a pound to a pound and a half are worthy 
 of your steel, but we have them from a pound and a 
 half to two pounds, for they vary according to the 
 water. Such fish are very fastidious as to their habi- 
 tat. It is not often you are fortunate enough to find 
 a swim such as the one I shall describe ; when you do, 
 take with you a brother of the gentle craft and intro- 
 duce him thereto, and he will not forget this proof of 
 your friendship. I recently made a painting of a couple 
 of roach from this water. These fish weighed three 
 pounds and a half; the pair were bright as silver. The 
 feeding stream comes from the hills. So great is the 
 supply, that within half a mile from the source a 
 beautiful lake is formed one of Nature's mirrors set 
 in the woods which surround it on all sides. 
 
 Close at hand, in perfect keeping with its beau- 
 tiful surroundings, on the slope of one of the hills, 
 stands the mansion of one of the old gentry, round
 
 246 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 which gather many an ancient tradition and kindly 
 memory. Modern improvements have not altered 
 any part of the natural surroundings. The house 
 and its traditions were well known to us through 
 faithful retainers, whose forefathers had been settled 
 on this woodland estate for generations past. It is 
 good to see the kindly and reverent way in which 
 those who have so faithfully served identify them- 
 selves with this family, whose name is honoured by 
 all who know them. Even the very animals and 
 birds are gifted in the eyes of these old retainers with 
 qualities not possessed by such creatures outside the 
 pale of the estates. 
 
 Old Dan'el had seen sixty summers and winters 
 when I first made his acquaintance. " I've been 
 house carpenter on this 'ere place," he told me. 
 " since my father died, an' he was here afore me. 
 The old squire was a real kind sort o' man ; when 
 he walked down to the lower gardens the 'osses and 
 cows 'ud just foller an' rub their heads agin' him. I've 
 sin 'em do it times an' agin, I hev ; yet he waun't a 
 gentleman as 'ed let the least bit o' liberty be took 
 with him. He used to feed them 'ere peacocks on 
 the gravel-walk front of the terrace steps reg'lar,
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 247 
 
 an' there they'd strut about an' show theirselves off, 
 a reg'lar treat. One on 'em, a fine old feller, was a 
 favourite with him. He was a dangerous customer 
 for some to git near, but to the squire he was as 
 gentle as a blind kitten. When the old squire took to 
 his bed, that 'ere bird left t'others that roosted in the 
 trees, an' cum tu roost on the top o' the house by the 
 big chimbleys o' th' old squire's room, an' there he'd 
 set all night through, his tail hangin' down the roof. 
 The night the squire died, that 'ere bird screamed his 
 loudest none o' the others, mind ye, only he. I 
 heard un down at my place, an' I couldn't sleep, so I 
 gits up an' goes to the house, fearful like ; an' then I 
 hears that the good old master had passed away when 
 that 'ere bird was screaming his loudest. There's 
 somethin' in these 'ere things, mind ye, as goes be- 
 yond our reck'nin' ! " 
 
 From here, as old Dan'el observed, the stream sup- 
 plies two mills. At the mouth of a third mill-pool is 
 our roach-swim, a short canal-like stretch, at the end 
 of fertile water-meadows, of four to five feet in depth, 
 nothing suggestive of fish about it ; but fish are there, 
 and this is the way they are captured. No paste, no 
 gentles, no delicate porcupine quill-float, nothing of
 
 248 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 the kind ! As I have before stated, different waters 
 require different methods. This is ours here : a stiff 
 light rod twelve feet long, a good gut-line we mean 
 by that stout, not fine-drawn, with a small perch-hook 
 whipped on ; for float, one of my own make, the size 
 and shape of a large acorn, with a slit in the middle 
 for the line to run through. The line is not shotted 
 above the hook-length ; to the gut-length some fine 
 silk twist line is attached. When the line is placed 
 through the loop of the top joint, the surplus line is 
 wound round one of the forefingers. Then from the 
 moss we take a dew-worm and place him on the hook, 
 whole not the tail of him pinched off. We throw in 
 slowly ; the float travels down ; slowly the current 
 takes it to the side of the crumbling bank on the 
 opposite side to our standing, and then something 
 stops it. That acorn-shaped cork makes two little 
 jerks on the surface, as a small mouse jerks along 
 when he comes out for crumbs stands on end for one 
 moment and then goes right away. Snick ! we have 
 him, and the bend of the rod tells us that he is a good 
 one. He is grassed and others follow, but we stop 
 at three pairs, for there is a vast deal of difference 
 between sport and slaughter. The roach, when large,
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 249 
 
 is exceedingly artful ; and, for sport, by no means to 
 be despised. 
 
 Bream give very good sport for those who like 
 such quarry. I am not able honestly to say that I 
 admire even the filleted bream. As one of my old 
 angling acquaintances, who always fished in a white 
 flannel jacket and a rusty black drain-pipe hat, used 
 to say, "They allers hev a mispicion of mud about 
 'em." The word suspicion he never could master; but 
 the emphasis he gave at all times, in season and out 
 of season, to the substitute, fully made up for the 
 defective etymology. If I do not greatly love the 
 bream, I do admire his haunts and surroundings. 
 Picture to yourself a calm stretch of deep water close 
 to the edge of the woods through which the river 
 flows in its course to the Thames, long stretches of 
 meadow-land, finely timbered on either side, the edge 
 of the water fringed with king-cups and yellow iris, 
 and many other plants which make the river-side so 
 very beautiful. The water flows on with that slow 
 oily motion which at once tells the angler naturalist 
 that fish are there, and large ones. The simple move- 
 ment of a twig, appearing above the surface from 
 some branch of a limb submerged below, is quite
 
 250 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 sufficient evidence ; when this is supplemented by a 
 gentle twirl, parting the river-foam which has settled 
 in this oily pool, the evidence is complete. They run 
 an enormous size here ; those who are familiar with 
 the substantial household implements called bellows, 
 may form some idea of the size and appearance of a 
 good-sized bream, one of the two varieties having 
 received the local appellation of " bellows " bream. 
 
 Moor -hens haunt this stretch of water in great 
 numbers. Careful as they are about their broods, 
 they do not rear them all ; the fish pouch numbers 
 of the young ones. Water-voles arid rabbits haye 
 their holes in the river-bank, side by side. When 
 floods come they are driven out in all directions. 
 Here in mid-day the fox creeps through the ferns 
 on the slope above, and hides in the iris clumps, on 
 the watch for rabbits or moor-hens. The first come, 
 the first snapped, is his motto. And the otter can 
 be seen at times in the meadows at play with her 
 young ones, like a cat with her kittens. Cattle feed 
 in the rich grass, dragon-flies dash here and there 
 after their insect prey, while the sedge-warblers chant 
 and chide as if in reproach of the river's sleepy flow. 
 
 As a fish for sport barbel is held in high esteem,
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 251 
 
 but so far as I am concerned in the matter, he is not 
 a favourite, nor do I care for the means employed 
 for his capture. 
 
 Carp and tench are, to a certain extent, local. 
 Some of those old moated farms on the borders of 
 Sussex, which were at one time manor-houses, have 
 large ponds attached to them. So secluded are 
 these houses and the ponds, that very few outside 
 the weald district know of their existence. All the 
 land is more or less clayey. Huge bulrushes fringe 
 the margin of the ponds ; and water-lilies, both 
 yellow and white, grow luxuriantly. In such situa- 
 tions carp and tench do well. Rods and lines are 
 almost unknown, at least they are never used for their 
 capture. The consequence is that the fish are almost 
 as unsophisticated as some of the people ; there are 
 exceptions, nevertheless, to every rule. One thing I 
 know, they will take worms as freely as perch. When 
 the angler, who has put his rod down to light his pipe, 
 finds, on turning round to pick it up, that his eighteen 
 feet of bamboo is in the water, making tracks for the 
 middle at a rapid rate, he may conclude that some- 
 thing in the shape of a good fish is at one end of it ; 
 the thing is to repossess himself thereof.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 Gudgeons, miller's thumbs, loaches, and the silvery 
 nimble minnows are the children's fish. Either one 
 or other of these forms the first capture of the young- 
 sters. The sticklebacks, in the southern counties 
 that are best known to me, are not admitted into 
 the fishing list. They are captured by the hands. 
 I know that as baits for perch, in spite of all that 
 has been said about their formidable spines, they are 
 very effectual. Eels, I think, can hardly be con- 
 sidered as a sporting fish : such of my angling friends 
 as have accidentally captured one whilst seeking 
 other fry have been' sorely tempted to speak un- 
 advisedly with their lips, their top joint being 
 smashed, and the line all in a knotted tangle. 
 
 It pleases some men to promote the propagation 
 of the trout family in their many varieties, in locali- 
 ties where they have never been before, to the ban- 
 ishment of other fish, which have been for centuries 
 indigenous to those waters. For my part, I heartily 
 wish the trout was not so much to the front as he 
 now is. Still, those who own the water, or rather 
 the ground through which the waters run, have a 
 right, I suppose, to sweep all fish out of them if they 
 can, and to restock them with bull-frogs, if such be
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 253 
 
 their pleasure. I honestly think over-strict preserving 
 is not acting beneficially as regards coarse fish, so called 
 to distinguish other fresh-water fish from the trout. 
 
 In order to promote this game fish, ponds have 
 been cleared of other fish, brooks also. Weeds, 
 the beautiful fresh-water weeds, have been cut or 
 raked off from the bottom : in doing so, Nature's own 
 filters and purifiers, in hundreds of ways, have been 
 destroyed, ancl food for the fish therewith. None 
 but those who have brought a double armful of bright 
 green weed to the bank, and examined it closely, 
 can form any idea of the various small creatures that 
 live in it, all of them food for the fish that have 
 their habitat in the water where they grow. If the 
 trout flourished in proportion to the trouble taken, 
 there would be something to say for it ; but they 
 do not, so far as I have observed, and other fish 
 suffer from the removal of the natural . aquatic 
 growth. Trout, in my opinion, are best left to the 
 care of the connoisseur, who should carefully inquire 
 into the relative merits of the natural and artificial 
 method of stream-purification and of food. I think 
 myself that the care above described is such as the 
 trout does not at all times benefit by. A clever im-
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 prover on Nature's laws is often but a. poor bungler, 
 who thinks he knows more than the Creator of the 
 water and of the creatures that live in it. 
 
 One moorland brook comes before me as I write 
 not a stream one that a first -class steeplechaser 
 could barely clear with his blood up, and at his full 
 stride. A full mile in length it is, and from four to 
 five feet deep, with sand shallows here and there. 
 In it I, with as cheeky a lot of schoolboys as ever 
 thrashed larrupped, we called it peoples' doors or 
 robbed apple-orchards, learned to swim. When we 
 tired of swimming, we would make for the glorious 
 weeds that flourished in the shallower portions, and 
 bury ourselves in them. No couch of eider-down 
 could be half so luxurious as the waving, soft bright 
 green weeds, containing Nature's stores of food for 
 the fish and aquatic birds both swimmers and 
 waders. Not only did we bathe there, but we 
 fished not with lines, but with our towels used as 
 nets ; a deadly proceeding for the fish. Yet it did 
 not lessen their numbers, it only made room for 
 others to come down from higher up-stream. Pre- 
 served water, so-called, was at that time unknown. 
 
 I have examined the masses of weed carefully and
 
 MORE FISHING NOTES. 255 
 
 minutely, taking whole days over it. What I have 
 found would give my readers matter for wonder. 
 The vast food - supply contained there was some- 
 thing marvellous. The pike, for instance, must have 
 weeds both for shelter and for food-stores ; he will 
 not flourish without them. Reeds, weeds, and pike 
 are inseparable in my mind. As I have lain in 
 that brook luxuriating in the moist warmth, after the 
 sun had been shining brightly in midsummer, I have 
 felt the gudgeons, loaches, and the miller's thumbs 
 scuttle over my body nay, even resting on me as 
 I lay. That brook was alive with pike, perch, trout, 
 roach, gudgeon, loach, and miller's thumbs. 
 
 By the way, even the viper is a most expert 
 swimmer. I have seen him by the brook-side : a 
 dreaded foe to the mouse family he is. That rep- 
 tile is far more feared than he deserves to be. In 
 our brook there was room for all boys, birds, fish, 
 and reptiles. 
 
 One day we were told we could not go there 
 any more. What ! not bathe and fish in our be- 
 loved brook ? We could not credit our ears, and 
 we hooted our informant as only boys can hoot. 
 Then we went there again at once, in defiance.
 
 256 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 Alas ! we had to yield to superior force, I will not 
 say intelligence. They were setting to work on 
 that happy hunting water. First they cleared 
 the weeds out, then they levelled the bottom ; in 
 this process, as a matter of course, they broke up 
 all the homes of the inhabitants. They put cart- 
 loads of rubble in, for the fish to spawn on. Then, 
 to crown all, they stocked the water with fish that 
 could not live there. The brook, having lost its 
 natural purifiers, lost all its brightness and purity, 
 and the fish could not get food. Water-snails, water- 
 shrimps, caddis, and water - beetles, and a host of 
 other minute creatures had perished with the weeds 
 that had been so foolishly raked out, and left to rot 
 on the banks of the brook. 
 
 For fifty years I have explored in Nature's domains 
 as a field naturalist ; I have given close attention to 
 such subjects as the above, and the result of my ex- 
 perience in the matter is, that after the lapse of a 
 few years, whatever course may have been taken by 
 the owners of our soil and waters, all things come 
 round again as they were before Dame Nature, with 
 her inevitable law of the survival of the fittest, re- 
 asserting herself here as elsewhere.
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 257 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 
 
 THE woodcock in times past was a bird little known 
 to the general public; to most he was a feathered 
 myth, heard about but not seen. As a boy I have 
 often listened with admiration and wonder, not 
 unmixed with awe, to accounts given by some 
 sportsmen relatives in our marsh-lands, of their 
 having had the good fortune to shoot a cock or 
 even a pair of these birds. That was spoken of 
 as by a rare chance, and the "how, when, and 
 where " were given with much exactness and detail. 
 They never kept them for their own table, but 
 invariably presented them to gentlemen who were 
 known to enjoy such game. Curious and strong 
 prejudices existed amongst our folk in regard to 
 R
 
 258 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 eating and drinking. Of woodcock I remember 
 they used to say, " Birds thet wus always suckin' 
 stuff out o' pools an' dykes could not be good for 
 much. Frogs did that, an' Frenchmen fed on frogs." 
 The connection between woodcocks and frogs I 
 always failed to discover, beyond the fact that 
 both got their living in moist places. I can re- 
 member also the account that was brought home 
 of the cooking and serving up of one particular 
 pair that had been so presented ; and the very 
 wording of the note of thanks the gentleman wrote 
 in acknowledgment of " the luxuries so kindly for- 
 warded." The note was thought much of, and 
 religiously treasured, as having been "writ by the 
 squire's own hand." The manner of the bird's cook- 
 ing was also told in strict confidence by the squire's 
 cook. I recall it all as though it had happened 
 only yesterday, and the expression of thankfulness, 
 echoed by all at our tea-table, that none of them 
 had "got to eat such frenchified muck as that." 
 And then the climax was reached when one told 
 how tomatoes or, as they called them, " love-apples," 
 were freely eaten by the same gentleman, cooked 
 as vegetables, and also raw as fruit, freshly plucked
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 259 
 
 from the vines. "'Tis a real wonder as gentlefolks 
 doesn't pisen theirselves," was the universal comment 
 on this statement. Good vegetables from a gentle- 
 man's garden I have often known refused with scorn. 
 " They never had eat 'em, and they waun't a-goin' 
 to use 'em now." 
 
 The woodcock is the prince of his family. Note 
 him as he steps out from under the drooping branches 
 of juniper and holly, where he has been bunched up 
 on the dead bracken and withered mottled leaves that 
 match his exquisitely pencilled plumage of browns, 
 fawns, drabs, and smoke-greys, barred and scrawled 
 over with still darker tones, that are neither black nor 
 brown. So perfectly does the plumage fall in with the 
 tones of his resting-place that a man might almost 
 touch him in passing by and, in fact, such has often 
 been the case. Only his glorious eye, formed like that 
 of the owl to catch all the rays of light in the gloam- 
 ing, might betray the bird's whereabouts to the wan- 
 dering naturalist, who slips round his haunts by day 
 with movements as quiet as those of the rabbits that 
 dot about, near his hiding-place. Scientists have stated 
 that the woodcock is a night-feeder. I have no wish 
 to dispute as to that ; but it is on comparatively
 
 260 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 light and clear nights that he will do best. In dull 
 weather, too, I have known him leave his snug 
 covert to " fossick " about with that wonderful long 
 bill of his, well furnished as it is with sensitive 
 nerves, in the dead leaves of the scrub oaks. A 
 plump, dainty-looking, well-set-up creature he is, as 
 he trips here and there with head knowingly held on 
 one side, his bright, full, moist eye glistening. That 
 bit of velvety green turf beside the runnel shows him 
 off to great advantage in fact he is no longer a brown 
 bird, the green shows him up as the beautiful creature 
 he truly is, as delicately marked as the wryneck. 
 
 A wood-pigeon claps off from the branch of a fir- 
 tree near at hand : it is quite enough to startle our 
 friend, and he squats down as closely as ever a toad 
 bee-snapping Gabriel, our rustics call him squatted 
 when he heard the owner of the bee-hives coming 
 where he had been devouring the inmates wholesale. 
 And now he is on his way again, turning and sorting 
 the dead leaves from side to side, with an occasional 
 upward flirt of his tail that shows the white and black 
 markings, a movement that has proved fatal to num- 
 bers of his family in the olden times, when the falcon 
 was used for their capture. In a work on falconry
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 261 
 
 that I possess, I read how the owner of a favourite 
 falcon went out with it to fly at the woodcock. Find- 
 ing him at last in the glade the bird's action of 
 flirting up his tail having betrayed him he flushed 
 him, and threw off his falcon. One bird tried to 
 mount right above the other until both were mere 
 specks, and soon lost to sight, then both came to 
 earth together, the falcon fast bound to her quarry. 
 The flirt of the tail still betrays the woodcock to the 
 eager sportsman ; and when his breech-loader has 
 laid the bird dead on the turf, he plucks a feather 
 from the wings and tail as a trophy. 
 
 As to myself, I have no design on the pretty 
 creature ; I carry only a good field-glass, with which 
 I have been watching his movements from a hiding- 
 place in the low tangle, on a dull afternoon. At the 
 first rustle, as I move, he is up and off, diving, twist- 
 ing, and dipping in and out of the network of bare 
 twigs without touching one of them, in a wonderfully 
 adroit fashion ; then he vanishes a mere streak of 
 grey and brown. 
 
 One is often asked what is the best way of watch- 
 ing the creatures : my answer is, " A suit of grey, a 
 good field-glass in hand, and the quietest of move-
 
 262 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 ments." A two-feet rule and a measuring-tape, 
 backed by the best library in the world, will not 
 make a naturalist. A practical naturalist knows well 
 that all birds and animals vary ; and you will find as 
 much difference, comparatively speaking, in the sizes 
 and dispositions of a nest of young birds or a litter of 
 animals, as you will in a family of human beings. 
 They will not all reach the same size, nor will they 
 attain to equal depths of colouring. Three conditions 
 also make a vast distinction birthplace, food, and 
 climatic differences. This applies more especially to 
 the birds that migrate more or less. Great numbers 
 of woodcocks breed in the United Kingdom every 
 year, but the great body of them come from foreign 
 shores and return again to them, as many at least as 
 escape capture. Woodcocks vary greatly in size and 
 weight : well-fed birds will run from ten, eleven, and 
 twelve ounces up to fourteen or fifteen ; some again 
 will not weigh much over eight ounces. 
 
 There have been well-authenticated instances of 
 individual birds being killed weighing twenty -two 
 ounces, and more ; but as I am not writing from the 
 sporting point of view, we need not enter into the 
 matter fully here.
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 263 
 
 In certain districts the birds are variously marked ; 
 I have had woodcocks from the New Forest, from St 
 Leonards, and Tilgate Forest, also from the coverts 
 on the Surrey hills. They were certainly all cocks, 
 yet not one was like the other, either as regards size 
 or depth of colour. The bird from the New Forest 
 was remarkable for the plumpness of his body 
 and the shortness of legs. The friend who brought 
 him told me that the woodcocks were all of the same 
 stamp there, and they called them New Foresters to 
 distinguish them from others. The cock from the 
 coverts on the Surrey hills, where at one time they 
 were numerous, was a larger bird than the one above 
 mentioned, and it was grey in tone ; when compared 
 together the difference was striking. The St Leon- 
 ards and Tilgate Forest birds held a midway posi- 
 tion between the other two as regarded size and 
 colouring. 
 
 In my rambles I have come on very quiet places, 
 known locally by the name of Cockshet, or Cockshut, 
 Hill or Glade. " Cockshoot," I presume, it was 
 originally. 
 
 Woodcocks, if not disturbed, have favourite tracks 
 that they take when they leave the hills for their
 
 264 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 feeding-places on the moors below, some glade that 
 they will shoot through, right down to the moist 
 ground. Here, in my own time, nets would be hung 
 in such a manner that the birds would dash into them 
 and get captured like flies in a spider's net. Springes 
 of various kinds were also used for their capture ; but 
 I gather from what the old people of the locality have 
 told me, that the " cockshoots " were the more suc- 
 cessful. The shoots have vanished as well as those 
 who worked them ; the name only is left. 
 
 The same method, only on a much larger scale, is 
 employed for the capture of wild-fowl the wading 
 tribes especially on some of the flats of our sea-coasts. 
 Vast numbers are taken in this way, if those who set 
 the nets get to them before the gulls and the hooded 
 crows do. All waders can swim if they are pushed to 
 it ; the woodcock paddles occasionally. One thing it 
 is now certain he does, he carries the young to and 
 fro from the nest to the feeding-grounds. The female 
 alone has been credited with this feat; but I believe 
 both parents do the carrying. A woodcock chick is 
 so small, the weight would be nothing. Still it is 
 wonderful that it should be done at all. 
 
 In quiet places the mother and her chicks feed by
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 265 
 
 day. This is generally the case when the nest has 
 been formed in or on some dry tuft or tussock, just 
 off the green soft beltof the moorland bogs. I am 
 inclined to believe that in southern counties the wood- 
 cock breeds early, for I was once near a female bird 
 and her brood that were running about in and out of 
 some half-melted patches of snow near the edge of 
 forest-lands that bordered on the moor. It was a 
 favourite haunt of mine, that breeding- place of the 
 woodcocks. Many a time have I been there when 
 the sun had got behind the great red fir-covered hill, 
 making the whole look like a huge purple mass, with 
 the mists rising gently above and around it, giving 
 the landscape a bloom like that on a bunch of grapes. 
 Fresh and cool it looked ; the moorland farm, with 
 blue smoke curling up from its quaint old chimneys, 
 and the last glint of light falling on the farm 
 meadows and the moor beyond them. From the 
 farmyard a wooded lane, or rather a moorland road, 
 ran round the foot of the hill. Down this covered 
 way the cocks would come flapping and shooting 
 into the moor beyond. At the foot of the hill, where 
 only the little trout-stream separated it from the 
 reclaimed meadow-land, the ground was so spongy
 
 266 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 and the bogs were so treacherous that the farmer's 
 lads had to get long planks to put down when they 
 wanted to gather the water-cress that grew there in 
 lank luxuriance. Giant cress it was, yet " tender as 
 a babby," the boys said. A wealth of wild life once 
 existed there, but it has vanished, for the boggy 
 ground has been drained. 
 
 I fear my readers will give me credit for romancing 
 when I tell them how this actually took place, to my 
 own knowledge. A man with money came and 
 rented the whole of the district alluded to. He 
 wanted to have more woodcocks and snipe, with a 
 few other creatures about ; so he drained their feed- 
 ing-places in all directions, close to the breeding- 
 grounds ; because, as he said, it was wet to get about 
 on ! The birds could not put up with such treat- 
 ment ; they forsook the place, to his great wonder- 
 ment, after all he had done for their benefit. After a 
 time he too left the district. He bungled certainly, 
 so far as the wild creatures were concerned, but in 
 another way he had been of use to his fellows, with- 
 out suspecting it ; for good grazing lands and corn 
 grounds now stand where formerly the bogs quaked. 
 Now and again I hear of a brace of cock being shot
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 267 
 
 there, or a wisp of snipe sprung ; but that is nothing 
 compared to my time, when the moorland children 
 snared both snipe and. woodcock in the season, and 
 the parents disposed of numbers of them in a mys- 
 terious direction. In the course of a morning's walk 
 I have come on scores of snares set in or near the 
 runnels in the moor. A strict principle of honesty 
 between cotter and cotter existed as to these ; each 
 man or boy knew his own springes, and he never 
 meddled with those of a neighbour. Whether this 
 be the case now, or otherwise, I am not prepared 
 to say. 
 
 Before dismissing our long-billed friend, I would 
 just remark that his absence is only a part of other 
 changes, the wild spots he loved having vanished 
 also. As a game-bird with the sportsman he takes 
 high rank ; as an article of food-supply he is of no 
 real value, being simply a very small luxury on 
 toast. 
 
 Much has been said about snipe, and by the most 
 distinguished of our naturalists ; for in certain dis- 
 tricts of the United Kingdom he exists, or did exist 
 only a few years back, in great numbers. To my 
 mind he is a more game-looking bird than his larger
 
 268 ON SURRE Y HILLS. 
 
 relative, the woodcock. So far as sport goes, he is 
 more to be considered, for he is, I believe, distributed 
 all over the country in suitable localities, whereas 
 the woodcock is, so to speak, more local in all his 
 arrangements. You will generally find him in any 
 likely wood, or on any moor, unless he has been 
 much harried. The snipe, so far as I know him, 
 shoots all over. All sportsmen are keen after him, 
 being both a good bird for eating and good for sport 
 also. Snipes are beautiful, both as regards shape 
 and colour ; but their tones of colouring run in 
 stripes of yellow and warm brown, mixed with white 
 and pale drab, the very tints of the withered herbage 
 that they hide or rest in. So closely do their colours 
 agree with their surroundings, that you might be 
 within a few yards of half-a-dozen of the birds with- 
 out perceiving one, until they sprang up, shouting 
 " Scape, scape," at their very loudest, and twisting 
 like corkscrews. Very fractious they are in their 
 movements : at one time you are not able to get 
 within fifty yards of them, at another they will allow 
 you to get close to them. 
 
 As far as food goes, snipe and woodcock feed 
 much alike that is, on worms of all sorts. The idea
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 269 
 
 of living by suction has been exploded for a long 
 time ; it was once firmly believed in. A tame wood- 
 cock will dispose of as many worms in reason as you 
 like to give him. To speak of tame woodcocks, 
 snipes, and sandpipers sounds rather an anomaly ; 
 but some of our sportsmen naturalists have kept all 
 these, and with success. 
 
 The mists of tradition that have hung over natural 
 life are slowly clearing away ; soon a mass of litera- 
 ture that has been bolstered up and foisted on a con- 
 fiding public will be only waste paper. The " gentle 
 reader" has been bidden to accompany the author to 
 the outermost Hebrides or to the mist-covered moun- 
 tains of Scotland to see such and such a bird in its 
 native haunts, when one could see the same bird, 
 perfectly at home, in one's own neighbourhood. Of 
 course Scotland, and Ireland more especially, are the 
 great breeding and gathering places for the snipe 
 family ; but they do not all go there. There are 
 morasses and bogs in the southern counties of Eng- 
 land where the birds congregate in large numbers. 
 
 One great bog I knew that used to be covered with 
 dwarf bushes of alder, flags, and rushes, with mosses 
 and the plants that thrive in such spots : it was with-
 
 270 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 in an hour's walk of a thriving town ; and there 
 dozens of snipe could be heard humming and bleating 
 all the day long, during the nesting season. 
 
 The wholesale robbery of birds' nests for money, 
 like many other pernicious practices of recent growth, 
 was quite unknown amongst us then. A man, too 
 fond a parent, will, nowadays, buy for his son a full 
 collection of British birds' eggs, with the notion that 
 it will give the boy a taste for natural history. I 
 knew such a case, but it was not a success ; you may 
 give a boy eggs, but not capacity. 
 
 By the way, the cause or nature of that humming 
 sound made by the snipe in his descent has been 
 discussed by the ablest of our modern naturalists. 
 They have, however, failed to come to any satis- 
 factory conclusion about it. The wing and tail 
 feathers of a snipe are on the table before me as I 
 write ; and after various experiments with them I 
 have my own opinion on this matter, which, however, 
 I do not venture to give, lest I be thought presump- 
 tuous. One point is certain, the sound does not 
 proceed from the mouth of the bird. When peewits 
 have struck down at me whilst I have been walking 
 amongst their eggs and young, it has been evident
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 271 
 
 that the humming whirr was caused by the wings 
 and tail in their rapid sweep. So close have some of 
 them come that I could see the shiver of the flight- 
 feathers. Where birds have not been wantonly dis- 
 turbed in their breeding stations, they take no more 
 notice of man when he passes than they would of the 
 donkey that crops the head of the thistle close to 
 their nest or young. I have seen Neddy flick his 
 long ears as they dashed down at him, and at last 
 make a bolt of it, sounding his horn as he retreated. 
 The occupier of that land told me that the reason 
 they were so fearless was that in his father's time 
 they had bred and reared their young without being 
 molested, and he gave them the same protection. 
 Those were certainly the most fearless peewits that I 
 ever made acquaintance with. 
 
 The peewit's hum, which is only heard in the down- 
 ward flight, is caused by the wings and tail : the outer 
 tail-feathers of the peewit are not curved, those of the 
 snipe are. Rooks, when they manoeuvre and dart 
 downwards like so many hawks, make a humming 
 rustle in their descent. When I hear the matter of 
 the snipe's hum discussed, as I do at times, a vision 
 of cool dark-green leaves and bunches of golden
 
 272 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 bloom comes up before me, and I see quiet pools 
 spangled over with weeds, and the blue-and-white- 
 flecked sky overhead. If I could be there once more 
 and hear that sound again, I would not be curious 
 as to how it was accomplished. Most of the vast 
 quantities of snipe that are captured for the game- 
 dealers are netted or springed ; and they come over 
 from the Continent, where their capture and that of 
 other wild-fowl for this country alone is an important 
 industry. Comparatively few of those sold are cap- 
 tured in the United Kingdom. I write this on the 
 strength of reliable information. The net system is 
 worked much like lark-netting in this country. 
 
 Young sportsmen often make the mistake of 
 associating snipe with standing water ; he likes moist 
 splashy places where he can probe about and find 
 cover at the same time. He is like most other birds 
 that get their living from the water and its margin ; 
 no matter how much they may wade and paddle in it, 
 they like a dry place to nest in. The snipe, after he 
 has had a good feed and has washed the dirt off 
 his bill and feet, generally retires to some dry tuft 
 or tussock for rest. Like those of all waders, his 
 wings move him vast distances with apparently little
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 273 
 
 fatigue : it is only when really heavy snow sets in, 
 followed by keen frost, that the snipe comes to grief. 
 In such seasons hundreds perish, starved to death. 
 
 They are not found now where they were once 
 plentiful, because their haunts have been turned into 
 corn-fields ; the partridge calls to his mate where the 
 snipe hummed and bleated high overhead, for the 
 benefit of his long-billed partner as she sat on her 
 large handsome eggs far below him. 
 
 If birds come upon a suitable locality as regards 
 cover and food, they soon frequent it. From one 
 small pool, where there was a warm spring, that never 
 froze even in the hardest weather, surrounded by fine 
 alders and willows, I have put up wild duck, teal, and 
 moor-hens, water-rails and snipes, to say nothing of 
 the herons that visited the spot. This was in hard 
 weather. As to siskins and redpolls, or redpolled 
 linnets, the alders were alive with them. 
 
 The owner, a miller, gave me permission to shoot 
 there ; and he or his son usually accompanied me, 
 for it required two of us to shoot there properly. 
 After a mallard had plumped down dead with a 
 splash, or a snipe had given the last flick with his 
 wings as he lay spread-eagled out on the green weeds 
 s
 
 274 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 that never got frost-bitten about that spring, one not 
 used to the place would think it was little use staying 
 there. But we knew better ; in a short time, from 
 our hiding-place, we would see the snipes shooting 
 high overhead once or twice, and then they would 
 pitch down into their favourite haunt once more, 
 The mallards were more cautious : they would dash 
 round many times, in large circles, before they 
 plumped down again, but after a time they did this 
 to be roused again as before. We did not kill every 
 bird we fired at, nor did we get all we did kill, 
 although we had a good water-spaniel. It was a 
 treacherous spot for moving about on ; the water was 
 full of weeds. We lost some of the mallards, for a 
 bird may be mortally hit, and yet have strength 
 enough left to dive when he falls. He gets entangled 
 in the thick weeds, is too weak to clear himself, and 
 so dies there, where he cannot be reached. It may 
 happen too that he drops just out of bounds, on 
 another man's part of the water. One finds some 
 folks so very tenacious of their rights in all such 
 small matters of flotsam and jetsam. It is not worth 
 while arguing with these. In my younger days I have 
 been guilty of using a small amount of physical force,
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 275 
 
 judiciously of course, before I could get others to look 
 at the peaceful side of the argument in the same light 
 as myself; but those days are far away now one can 
 only be young once. 
 
 That dainty, smart, little fellow, the Jack-snipe, is a 
 rarer bird, so far as numbers go, than his larger relative 
 though any little irregularity in the ground, a rise 
 or a depression, that will shelter a skylark, will hide 
 him from observation. The hollow left by the hoof- 
 print of horse or bullock in the soft turf is sufficient. 
 If a tuft of grass droops over it he is at home. When 
 he frequents the water-meadows, any one of the tiny 
 rills that intersect them in all directions having just 
 enough water in them for a loach or a stickleback to 
 wriggle up will provide him with food and a happy 
 hunting-ground. He will stick like a leech to a spot 
 that suits him. For a bad shot he is a most valuable 
 bird ; lads delight in Jack-snipe shooting for he may 
 be fired at and missed for half a day, without desert- 
 ing his favourite bit of water-meadow or his splashy 
 rush-field. He is richer in colouring than his larger 
 relative, having beautiful bronze, green, and purple 
 tones in some of his markings. A small fellow truly 
 is little Jack, yet he manages to keep himself in good
 
 276 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 condition weighing, however, only about two ounces 
 at his best. If he reaches a quarter over the two 
 ounces it is something grand for him. Up to the 
 present time his nest or eggs have not been found in 
 England, to my knowledge at least. Reported in- 
 stances have been given ; but after careful examina- 
 tion the eggs have been proved to be only small 
 specimens of those of the common snipe, or heather- 
 bleater, as he is called. Little Jack-snipe, like our 
 common sandpiper or summer snipe, will trip and 
 probe along the edge of any drain near a town for his 
 food-supply. A railway station has no terrors for 
 him ; the rush and rattle of trains will not daunt him 
 or his larger relative, if there happen to be a drain or 
 two near, or, still better, a large culvert. There is 
 something very attractive, in the shape of food for 
 snipes, to be found in sharp weather at the mouth or 
 sides of a warm drain, from a town or railway station. 
 I own to a high degree of irritability against the 
 system of capturing birds and their eggs to supply 
 so-called collectors saving the mark in season and 
 out of season. The Bird Act is in force for the 
 strict preservation of birds that do not breed here, 
 nor ever will. It is a sore subject with all wild-fowl
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 277 
 
 shooters and all true sportsmen naturalists. One 
 thing I know, so far as our rarer British birds are 
 concerned, any mouching lout that gets his living 
 in a way only known to himself and to those he 
 provides specimens for, both birds and their full 
 nests, can laugh in his sleeve at the Bird Preserva- 
 tion Act ; for I know that no bird there specified 
 that is at all uncommon can show itself for a single 
 half-hour in certain places without being shot. If 
 the poor creatures had all of them the bewildering, 
 dodging flight of the little Jack-snipe it would be the 
 better for them. In six cases out of ten they would 
 escape. 
 
 It is not a system of extermination with regard to 
 members of the wading family, to which the Scolo- 
 paxes undoubtedly belong, that I wish to ventilate. 
 There is no fear of that, for they come from their 
 vast sanctuaries and breeding-grounds far away, in 
 their seasons, as they have done for ages. Nothing 
 will stop the migration of birds in its due season. 
 But the fens are drained now to a great extent, 
 so that their haunts are limited, and vast hordes 
 must pass on to other lands where they can find all 
 that they require. Those that do find little lonely
 
 278 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 spots here and there in our country, now few and far 
 between, in their original wildness, we would fain see 
 unmolested by collectors and their agents. 
 
 That fine bird the stone curlew, that looks like a 
 link between the bustard and the plover, is to a great 
 extent local in his habitat. His general habits are 
 like those of the little bustard. Sandy wastes, rough, 
 broken, bare country, great stretches of no-man's- 
 land, suit him best. He is a bird of passage, but I 
 have known him shot in the dead part of a very 
 hard winter ; so they do not all depart. The re- 
 searches in ornithological science of late years show 
 that the most dogmatic statements of some authori- 
 ties (?) require to be qualified a little. It would 
 appear as though our country were going through 
 a climatic change ; the summers are not so hot, nor 
 the winters saving part of the last one so severe 
 as they used to be in my young days. That may 
 account for some birds being found now that were 
 not found then. The question is, Were they looked 
 after then as they are now ? 
 
 The grey plover is found near the coast-line ; he, 
 like his very near relative the golden plover, has a 
 black waistcoat in the breeding season. In his winter
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 279 
 
 dress he is hardly to be distinguished from the other, 
 at least by ordinary shooters. One mark alone will 
 tell the difference at any time : the grey plover has 
 a small hind - toe, the golden plover has not. As 
 regards the breeding-place of the grey plover, re- 
 cent search has proved that the Siberian tundras, or 
 marshes, is one locality. Man has yet to discover 
 that bird Eden, where a particular section of the 
 waders in lagoons have bred undisturbed for succes- 
 sive ages ; rushing thence in countless hosts to fre- 
 quent the shores of the whole known world, giving 
 life, with their beautiful forms, lively actions, and 
 shrill voices, to most dreary places. Perhaps one 
 should call their voices penetrating rather than shrill ; 
 no matter whether the air be calm or the storm rage, 
 they can be heard. 
 
 Let one who is a true lover of birds examine for 
 himself the wings of a woodcock, snipe, or plover, or 
 any one of the sandpipers, arid he will wonder at the 
 perfection of anatomical construction which gives the 
 birds such power of making distance, as we estimate 
 it, a matter of small moment. We can judge from 
 their flight, as we see it, very imperfectly what their 
 speed is : of what it may be when they are up in the
 
 280 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 air, far above human sight, at full migrating speed, 
 we can form no opinion. They know their own path, 
 and their time to follow it ; but " the way of a bird 
 in the air " has long been a mystery, and .to a great 
 extent remains so. 
 
 The golden plover nests in this country, in the 
 northern parts of England and Scotland especially. 
 It is a far commoner bird than the grey plover, and 
 it is the former species that supplies the game-shops 
 with a dainty luxury. 
 
 The last member of the plover family that I would 
 mention in this slight sketch of some of their number 
 is the innocent ring dotterel or dotterel plover. He 
 is associated with my earliest recollections, and, as I 
 write, a long shining stretch of sands comes before 
 me, bordered by sand-hills or dunes, sprinkled over 
 with bents and thistles. A blue cloudless sky is 
 overhead, and nothing breaks the monotony of the 
 level flat except the rotten ribs of some ill-fated 
 vessel, which stick up, worm-eaten and festooned 
 with barnacles ; and no living thing is to be seen 
 except a motionless boy watching the dotterels that 
 ran and piped about quite near to him. 
 
 Without waders the shores and flats would be dead
 
 WOODCOCK, SNIPE, AND PLOVER. 281 
 
 and lifeless ; they are for ever searching for food in 
 one shape or another, only desisting when the waters 
 cover their feeding-grounds. A most important part 
 is played by them in devouring, as they do, hosts of 
 marine creatures that would prove injurious even to 
 some of the denizens of the sea itself if they were 
 not kept in check by the waders. 
 
 A fellow-naturalist remarks that woodcocks and 
 snipes do not visit the tide. This may be true in a 
 general way ; but in hard weather such, for instance, 
 as the birds suffered from so terribly last winter 
 you will find both of these feeding with the shore 
 birds.
 
 282 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 
 
 THERE is a weird silence over Nature, both by day 
 and by night. Unless you startle some creature 
 from its shelter, you will not hear the faintest rustle 
 as you walk along. All live things, both furred and 
 feathered, remain in their hiding-places, croped up, to 
 use the rustic term for being miserable. So thickly 
 has the hoar-frost been clothing the leafless branches 
 and the most slender twigs of the trees for many 
 days, that they droop with the weight of it. Copse 
 and hedgerow are clothed with the same sparkling 
 mantle ; and some of the bracken stems, where 
 they are crooked by natural decay, look like the 
 hind - feet of hares modelled in frosted silver ; in
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 283 
 
 fact, Jack Frost has been playing the strangest and 
 most beautiful vagaries in all directions. 
 
 Birds are under some strange influence in such 
 hard weather as came to us at the close of the year 
 1890. I fancy hosts of migrants came to grief in 
 making their passage that foggy winter. For some 
 reason only known to themselves, the woodland dis- 
 tricts, rivers, ponds, and streams round and about the 
 immediate neighbourhood of the Surrey hills were, 
 comparatively speaking, deserted by the birds. For 
 certain species I searched most diligently in their 
 accustomed haunts, but without success. 
 
 First on our list the birds of prey, so far as the 
 hawk tribe are concerned, were conspicuous by their 
 absence ; not even a kestrel shows itself. This is 
 perhaps not surprising, for the whole tribe of Rap- 
 tores shift about a great deal, independently of their 
 regular migrations. I believe that very few of the 
 family breed here now, compared to the numbers 
 that come to us from beyond the sea, where flight- 
 nets are fixed for fowl. A fishing-net, the longer the 
 better if the mesh is just right, will tell a curious tale 
 at times regarding strange fowl that get meshed. 
 There is a good sale always for both web and hen
 
 284 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 footed fowl ; but when the greater part of the catch 
 has consisted, in such weather as we are now writing 
 about, of owls, much has been said by their unwilling 
 captors to little purpose, in language not suited to 
 ears polite. " What can us do with the cussed out- 
 landish things, dead as door-nails too ? We can't 
 eat 'em biled nor yet frizzled, chuck 'em in ter tide 
 fur crabs an' dogs (dogfish)." I have had a part in 
 this business, and can speak feelingly in respect to it. 
 When a man has the devil in both pockets, to speak 
 in our homely phrase, and finds his stomach trying 
 to scrape acquaintance with his backbone, it is ex- 
 asperating to find three or four owls in a net instead 
 of ducks, and gives one "the megrums." 
 
 The white owl visits the tide I have watched him 
 there myself, but have never seen him in the nets, as 
 I have woodcock, owls, and brown owls. These cer- 
 tainly entered the net on the seaward side. Forty, 
 nay, a hundred miles are as nothing to a bird, especi- 
 ally a bird of prey. 
 
 The birds and animals of the woodland regions are 
 mute under certain conditions of the weather. Bright 
 hard frost, and a clear bracing air, make them feel 
 all alive. They may have to hunt most perseveringly
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 285 
 
 for their food, but the course is perfectly clear before 
 them ; leaves can be turned over and the hedgerows 
 explored in comfort ; but when the thick furry hoar- 
 frost covers everything-, it is a different matter. At 
 the least jar, as they move about in their search, a 
 shower of fine glass-like spikes falls on their fur or 
 plumage, and these stick. Then the warmth of the 
 creature's body melts the particles, and the bird or 
 beast is miserable. We know from personal experi- 
 ence what penetrating power the melting frost has. I 
 have come home in weather such as this, after a long 
 and fruitless search for wild things, feeling just about as 
 miserable as the creatures I was looking for could be. 
 
 That bunched-up plumage of the birds, the short 
 shuffling flight, and the drop down one can hardly 
 call it settling tell their sad plight most eloquently. 
 
 As to the furry animals, nothing but the most 
 pronounced movement, threatening danger, on your 
 part, will cause them to leave their retreats. Now 
 rabbits get confused often in looking for their homes, 
 and lie out. In waste lands I do not refer to rabbit- 
 warrens stoats and large rats give the rabbits notice 
 to quit in their own practical fashion, and the poor 
 things must squat outside.
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 Then what was termed, in our district, the Leather 
 Brigade turned out, fully equipped for action, wearing 
 stout hob-nailed shoes, iron-tipped at toe and heel, 
 and leather gaiters reaching up to the thigh. On 
 their hands were hedging, gauntleted gloves. To all 
 appearance the brigade consisted only of four or five 
 stalwart young rustics out for a walk. I confess that 
 I have made one of the party more than once, and 
 have repeatedly watched their tactics. The title, 
 Leather Brigade, was bestowed on these young men 
 by the woodland neighbours, who were not deficient 
 in a hearty sense of humour. The brigade went to 
 work by starting in Indian file, and in silence, looking 
 keenly to right and left for any trace of fur or feather. 
 Had the creatures kept to their own well-watched 
 preserves, it would have been better for them ; or if 
 they could have gone out without leaving tracks be- 
 hind them ; for clever as wild creatures are in baffling 
 their natural enemies, to these practised rangers they 
 were plainly visible. Presently one would point with 
 his finger, and the leader would look. " In or out ? " 
 would be whispered ; and then round some small 
 clump of tangle a circle would be formed, the rabbit 
 visible in the centre of it, his head drawn into his
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 
 
 shoulders, ears laid close, and his bright eyes looking 
 all ways at once. 
 
 " Stomp (stamp) him out ! " is the order shouted ; 
 there is no silence now. Out bolts the rabbit, and the 
 next instant he is spinning in the air overhead, sent 
 up by a powerful kick from one of the brigade ; then 
 he falls dead on the ground. I have seen one mem- 
 ber of that leather brigade drive his foot a large 
 foot it was clean through the ceiling of the country 
 inn where I was staying, and bring down a yard of 
 lath and plaster fixed round his enormous laced-up 
 boot. The consternation of the good host when he 
 heard the clatter and saw the wreck of his ceiling, 
 with the roars and yells of laughter from the com- 
 pany, made a pretty to-do. The culprit, a young 
 woodland giant, looked first at the hole in the ceiling, 
 then at his boot, and a grin spread over his pleasant 
 face. " George," he said to the landlord, " that 'ere 
 pot o' ale was middlin' strong ; if you likes to stand 
 another I'll kick t'other part down ; and then, old 
 feller, you can hev a bran-new ceiling put up." The 
 wrath of the host was a sight to see. 
 
 I can imagine I hear some of my readers saying, 
 " What a brutal way of killing a defenceless animal ! "
 
 288 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 But consider if you are able to kill a creature quickly, 
 before it knows what has happened to it, why com- 
 plain of the method employed? 1 Sudden death from 
 the kick of a large boot is, to my mind, far preferable 
 to choking from a wire, or suffering from a bad shot. 
 So quickly and surely could those great fellows use 
 their feet, that the result was never doubtful. Hence 
 the title of " Leather-gun Brigade," to give it in full. 
 Pantile, Romper, Waggle who could clear a fence 
 or hedge like a deer and the Lady Cabin-boy, so 
 called because he had a budget of sentimental, old- 
 world songs at his command, were the nicknames by 
 which some of its members were known. 
 
 To return to our birds. Crows, magpies, and jays 
 are very busy and very quiet in hard winter weather, 
 also very shy. When the weather permits, shooting 
 is sure to be going on. Those who shoot are not all 
 crack shots, and all wounded creatures seek shelter 
 at once. If they have reached it safely, directly the 
 coast is clear, their cunning feathered enemies are on 
 
 1 In spite of what our author says here, one's instinct goes against 
 doing a creature to death in this way. The medium of a gun or other 
 instrument seems to take from the idea of slaughter, and the natural 
 repugnance to taking life. J. A. O.
 
 \ 
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 2 
 
 the hunt. A low note of congratulation on findin 
 the quarry, and then they set to work. Where gam 
 is concerned, the magpie is a crafty and mischievou 
 bird ; but, after all, other creatures beside game mu 
 live, and in killing and eating mice, and other small 
 deer, he does a vast amount of good. He is certainly 
 not numerous in game-preserving districts ; you may 
 see a single pair in certain localities in the course of 
 a twelve-miles' walk. 
 
 Jays are continually on the look-out for something 
 to eat, and they will lay up a store of acorns 
 and other things in secret places for hard times. 
 They know where to find it when they need it. 
 When the weather breaks they make fresh cover. 
 Other birds, and, in fact, many creatures, hoard and 
 hide surplus food. Some members of the Raptores 
 would be hard pressed at times if they did not do 
 this. Those who do not actually hide it have the 
 faculty of taking a great amount of food into their 
 crops enough to tide them over hard times. It 
 startles one, when walking through covers that have 
 apparently no life in them, to see a dozen jays or 
 more flash out in front, flitting now here, now there, 
 on either side and around you. Public paths run 
 T
 
 290 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 through some of these covers, or by the side of them, 
 /et the birds seem to know they can squeal and 
 squawk their loudest there with impunity. 
 
 The rooks are hard pressed during murky, freezing 
 weather. If just enough snow has fallen to make 
 the pursuit of food very difficult, the poor birds call 
 to each other disconsolately as they flap from one 
 place to another, eagerly looking for something eat- 
 able. If they are fortunate enough to find any dead 
 carrion it is very soon disposed of. The rook feeds 
 in the same manner as does the carrion-crow, when 
 his more legitimate food worms, grubs, beetles, and 
 the like fails him. When driven to great straits he 
 is forced to take anything he can get. The jackdaws 
 are in just the same plight : they chatter in the most 
 doleful fashion, in a very- different note from the 
 cheerful jackup ! jackup ! jack ! of better times, as 
 they pass overhead. What they get to keep life in 
 them is a mystery. As a rule, any spot on the hill- 
 fields, where the sun shines out, they at once pitch 
 down to. In fact, the poor things follow the sun all 
 the day long, if it shows itself at all. Sheepfolds 
 do not benefit any of these birds now except in 
 affording them perching - places, where they sit
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 
 
 humped up, miserable bunches of black feathery 
 They hunt the roads, the fields, and the farmyard^ 
 to little purpose, for sparrows are very numerous am 
 very hungry. 
 
 Owing to the severity of the weather last winter, 
 the wood-pigeons, or ring-doves, usually in such great 
 numbers, did not visit the woodlands for some time. 
 We had had a most fruitful mast season, both for oak 
 and beech, also a good wild fruit and berry time ; yet, 
 with the exception of the home-bred pigeons I mean 
 wood-pigeons bred in the United Kingdom, a small 
 number, comparatively speaking these birds were 
 scarce. They come sometimes late from their far- 
 away strongholds after eating up the provender there. 
 Four or five hundred miles is as nothing to them with 
 their strong, swift pinions. Some seasons, when the 
 acorn and beech-nut crops have been poor ones, I 
 have seen wide open cart-roads in the woods covered 
 with a vast army of pigeons, all eagerly seeking for 
 food, a moving, struggling, blue-grey mass of feathers. 
 The clap-clap-clap from that host of wings was like 
 the fall of some large tree which comes crashing 
 through the branches of others that surround it. 
 
 The vexed question of the migratory movement
 
 
 292 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 Df birds has had much attention bestowed on it of 
 late. My own observations concerning the matter 
 extend over a period of many years, and I believe 
 that nearly the whole of our British birds migrate 
 more or less as the seasons vary. The golden-crested 
 wrens, the smallest of our birds, certainly do. 
 
 In hard severe weather the coast-line is the 
 locality to find bird-life, it being open and moist 
 there. I have seen blackbirds, thrushes, and 
 redwings, larks and pipits, also wagtails, feeding 
 on the saltings with the dunlins and other small 
 waders. Linnets, redpolls, and siskins I have seen 
 in numbers close to the tide. Alders grow to a 
 large size near tidal waters, at least they did so 
 in the district I am best acquainted with, and I 
 noticed that the siskins there were very numerous 
 and in fine bright plumage. They were larger birds, 
 too, than any I have seen in the alder thickets of 
 the moorlands. The lark family affect the coast- 
 line in a very noticeable manner ; the skylarks 
 come in regular armies at times, covering the flats, 
 in such a winter as the last, 1890-91 ; they do not 
 stay long, however : buntings come also. The snow- 
 bunting loves dearly the wild, bleak sand-hills and
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 
 
 293 
 
 the shingle, dotted here and there with stunted 
 scrub blackthorn. The colder it is, the better this 
 nimble, handsome little fellow likes it ; I have not 
 the least doubt it puts him in mind of his own 
 ice-bound arctic home which he has deserted for 
 a time. He feeds on the small creatures that the 
 tide throws up and leaves behind it. 
 
 Fieldfares I have seen close to the tide, but I 
 do not remember having seen one actually feeding 
 on the saltings, like the other birds I have mentioned. 
 In the course of a three weeks' ramble, I observed 
 about twenty fieldfares and three redwings, and 
 wondered where the rest of these birds had got 
 to this season. In 1886 we had a spell of hard 
 weather, when the peewits came up close to the 
 houses and gardens ; in fact, any place where there 
 was a bit of turf to look over, they ran about for hours 
 as long as the sun showed itself. When the sun 
 went down they took flight to their resting-place, 
 miles away. The redwings had not been seen at 
 all that season ; but presently, when a change had 
 taken place in the weather, and it had rained, the 
 sun shining out on the following day, I found, on 
 going home at noon, that the grazing-ground on
 
 294 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 which my house is situated was literally covered with 
 redwings. They must have been very hungry, for 
 they were very tame, and they fed eagerly on the 
 worms that had come out in all directions. The 
 birds had evidently just arrived from a distance, 
 and had pitched down to feed in passing. Judging 
 from a couple that were shot, and brought to me 
 to paint from, they were in good condition. Directly 
 the sun got low, they rose in a body and passed 
 out of sight ; the next day not one was to be seen 
 their feeding-ground was taken up by blackbirds, 
 thrushes, and starlings. These three birds, at the 
 time I write of, came to our doors for scraps with 
 the sparrows and robins. That same winter a 
 fine cock hawfinch used to come for the holly- 
 berries that had ripened in profusion on a tree 
 at the back of our house. The want of water does 
 not inconvenience birds in the least. They may 
 be seen eating snow often enough, as a substitute 
 for drinking. 
 
 The woodpeckers the green or yaffle, and the 
 spotted, greater and lesser, with nuthatches and tree- 
 creepers confine themselves to belts of old timber, 
 no matter what sort, so long as they are old enough.
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 295 
 
 The only indication they give of their proximity to 
 you is that scratching kind of soft tap when the bird's 
 claws come in contact with the bark. All sounds 
 are deadened in times of hard frost. Even the 
 powerful strokes from the yaffle's bill are muffled ; 
 you might fancy that gaily-coated drummer of the 
 woods was performing a muffled roll a dirge for 
 the dying year. The spotted species work silently 
 at this season ; but when the new year is fairly on 
 in its course, their side -drum rattle will be heard 
 again. The holes in old trees give them a warm 
 shelter ; no winds can reach them there. They find 
 also an abundant supply of food, as a large portion 
 of insect -life in all stages is hidden in the crevices 
 and underneath the loosened bark. 
 
 Besides haunting the tree-trunks and branches, the 
 woodpeckers and the nuthatches hunt about a great 
 deal in the thick belts of cover that encircle the 
 woods too deep to be called hedge-growth, and 
 not enough to be styled copse. Here, where the 
 leaves have drifted thickly and the belts have a 
 southern aspect, the green woodpecker is generally 
 busy searching in the leaf-mould beneath for insects. 
 He soon clears a space for himself with his bill and
 
 296 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 feet no small one it is, and then he gets a good 
 feed, if I may judge from the time I have seen him 
 stay there. After he has left the spot with a harsh 
 screech, down darts a mistle-thrush from some yew- 
 trees near to see what he can get ; one or two 
 great tits follow suit, but these are driven off by 
 the thrush in the most savage manner. Food is 
 the grand object, and one creature is always on 
 the alert to benefit by the exertions of another. 
 Acorns, hazel-nuts, and beech-nuts get their outer 
 covering softened by being buried in the soft leaf- 
 mould, and the husk or shell is easily detached. 
 Crab-apples, which have fallen from the trees in some 
 of the lonely spots, have lain there under the leaves 
 and ripened thoroughly a rare find for the birds. 
 We read of roasted crabs swimming in the strong 
 ale of olden times, and I am sure they must have 
 been good ; for after a natural ripening under the 
 leaves these are, as the rustics say, toothable ; and 
 our children will tell you that wild plums, bullaces, 
 together with the sloes or pickets, " ain't to be 
 sneezed at arter they've bin frosted " that is, exposed 
 to the hard weather. I can endorse this : the rough 
 acid element is made sweet by Jack Frost's action.
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 297 
 
 One of my neighbours keeps fowls, using a con- 
 siderable plot of grass as a run for them. The rooks 
 found out this place, and as I wrote, on a keen 
 frosty day, they were busy eating up any food that 
 the fowls missed. 
 
 The tit family, the blue tit excepted, confine them- 
 selves to the belts of fir that flourish luxuriantly near 
 us. There is warmth in winter in all fir-woods ; the 
 heavy masses of foliage form a roof for all wild 
 things great and small. The little gold-crest is in 
 clover there, as well as the brown owl, and the rab- 
 bits beneath. The brown owl, by the way, goes to 
 ground at times that is, he takes possession of the 
 rabbit's hole. I do not know what persuasive power 
 he makes use of to constrain the rightful owner to 
 abandon his warm, snug retreat at the roots of the 
 firs ; but the owl certainly does this, and he is not 
 the only bird that goes to earth. Shelddrakes,' 
 stock-doves, with starlings and jackdaws, take to earth 
 and breed there. I have seen the song-thrush also 
 build her nest on the ground like a willow-warbler ; 
 she had left the covers close at hand to do this. 
 
 After all, it is only by very slow degrees that 
 accurate knowledge can be gained about our wild
 
 ON SURREY HILLS. 
 
 creatures. Something fresh in their movements, 
 some peculiarity of habit in fur, feather, or fish 
 which has not been observed before, will present 
 itself to those who watch for it in a manner that 
 is startling at times. It makes the true naturalist 
 feel very humble in spirit, when, after long years 
 of patient observation, he sees the different creatures 
 show themselves in most unlooked-for situations, and 
 apparently new characters. 
 
 I visited recently a lonely old farmhouse on the 
 border of the moorlands. Close to it is a small pond 
 surrounded by oak-trees ; the branches overhang it 
 so that the acorns drop in the water and bury them- 
 selves by the force of their own weight in the 
 decayed leaves at the bottom. Wild ducks are 
 remarkably fond of these acorns, and they have 
 visited this small pond in the late autumn and 
 winter seasons all the time the spot has been known 
 to me. I once told a man who had been a game- 
 preserver, and who chanced to be going that way as 
 I was, just as the day was closing between the lights, 
 the flight-time for all wild fowl, that if he got near 
 the pond very quietly he would get a chance at a 
 duck.
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 299 
 
 " What ! " said the man ; " have I lived all these 
 years to be taken for a fool? When I want to 
 know anything about ducks I'll ask you." 
 
 " Is your gun loaded ? " 
 
 " No, it is not, and I don't intend to act the fool by 
 loading it for fancy ducks." 
 
 By this time we had reached the pond. Up sprang 
 the ducks, a beautiful sight, right and left, just in 
 front of us. The way that man scratched and 
 fumbled for cartridges was amusing ; but it was to 
 no purpose, the ducks were gone. Then he be- 
 stowed titles upon himself which would have made 
 him wroth enough if they had come from some one 
 else. 
 
 During the bitterly cold season the few swimmers 
 and waders about had a rough time of it. Ducks, 
 moor-hens, and coots crept up any runnel that was 
 supplied from a warm spring. The smallest patch of 
 open weed-covered swamp was a boon beyond price. 
 The poor herons came to grief. They are conspicu- 
 ous birds at all times on the wing, and when the 
 ground is covered with snow, and the thick withered 
 flags with furry hoar-frost besides, he shows up very 
 plainly when he settles. His craving stomach also
 
 300 ON S URRE Y HILLS. 
 
 makes him throw aside much of his usual caution. 
 Then he gets in trouble. I have seen him exposed 
 for sale recently, much to my regret, for he is now far 
 from a common object in the country. 
 
 When all the ponds are ice-bound it is useless to 
 look for swimmers or waders in their vicinity. The 
 only places where you can hope to find them are 
 warm bog-swamps, open ditches, and moist tussocky 
 spots, unpleasant enough to explore in such weather. 
 
 Woodcocks and snipes came very close to houses 
 and quiet places last winter in quest of food. You 
 might have been sure of finding both birds, in fields 
 bordering on the moorland woods, in which turnips 
 had been left for sheep to feed upon, not cut up with 
 the machine, but in their natural state. The leaves 
 are broad and thick, and by their cover they prevent 
 the ground from being frozen very hard about the 
 roots. In the middle of the day, if the sun shines, 
 the frost and snow on the leaves melts a little and 
 drips on the ground, for a time thawing the imme- 
 diate neighbourhood of the roots they cover. The 
 worms take advantage of this at once and come near 
 the surface. So do the woodcocks and snipes, for 
 they are as busy as ever they can be, boring success-
 
 WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 301 
 
 fully in all directions. I have known good bags 
 made at times out of turnip-fields. The manner in 
 which wild creatures use the faculties which the 
 Creator has given them is surely something' for 
 man himself to wonder at. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
 
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