sands; and, not least, the herons, measuring out their dominions with their lordly arch of wings in leisurely pride of sovereignty, passed grandly on their way; or, ever and anon, a thousand plover, as with one soul, would turn and glance in the sun far away.  All this was a new revelation to many boys, whose sole ideas of birds had been sparrows, thrushes, perhaps, and ducks at so much a couple, and a duck-pond.

In our enumeration, however, of fish and fowl we had almost forgotten “a portent of the wave,” which was a nine hours’ wonder with us.  A stray seal, revisiting the familiar shore, and unaware of the change which had transformed his quiet haunts was encountered by one of our party as he cruised round Borth Head in his fishing-boat.  We are glad to record that the rencontre ended without bloodshed.  It was a sportsman and a naturalist who had crossed the poor seal’s path; but he remembered that he, too, was a stranger in the land, and he could not lift rifle against the

   Sea-worn face, sad as mortality,

which leaned from the ledge of rock to look at him.  So the monster passed on his way unharmed.

We have detailed at length enough of the diversions and interests which lay close at our own doors.  But these delights pale by the side of those red-letter days when we went far afield to keep a holiday among the mountains.  We shall not see the like of those days again!  On such mornings, the hotel steps and the esplanade would be dotted with anxious groups waiting for breakfast, and observing the omens of the sky.  If these are favourable, a little before eight a broad stream sets towards the station, and fills the sunny platform with a vivacious crowd.  Masters, who organise the several expeditions, use the interval to count heads and sort their parties.  The benevolent Cambrian railway supplies spare carriages and return tickets at single fares.  Presently the train is sighted sliding down the winding incline from Langfihangel; it picks us all up—­near two hundred souls, it may be—­moves out into the open plain, still glittering with the morning dew, and reaching Glandovey, drops half its passengers at the junction to explore the northward coast, while it carries the rest to Machynlleth and Cemmes Road.  Here and there it sows little companies of explorers at some mountain’s foot or river’s mouth.  One band assails Cader Idris from the rich vale of Dolgelley, and meets on the summit another which has scaled it from Tal-y-llyn.  Each party is convinced that their ascent was the more creditable in point of speed, and that they enjoyed the more magnificent views.  One, however, claims an advantage which can be more easily gauged; they have haled a hamper of luncheon with them to the peak, with infinite pains.  During the descent this hamper (but that was after luncheon) slipped from its carrier’s hand, and plunged beyond recovery down the Fox’ Walk.  Meanwhile, others are befogged on the broad top of