But it is not he who runs but rather he who remains still that is the best observer of wild creatures; and it is easy to see that Mr. Williamson has waited immovable through long hours of darkness and of daylight, of fair weather and foul, with eyes, weary it may be, but always alert and vigilant. And he has studied the ways not of one wild creature but of many, and thus has been able to understand, in some measure, the relations of the different creatures to each other. Nor is he less attentive to their environment, for he is familiar with wild plants and wild flowers as with wild animals; and I will venture to guess that nothing that passes within range of his vision remains unnoticed. He may be watching two otters at play, but, if there be a grass-snake on the opposite bank, a patch of butterfly orchis peeping through a gap in the fence, and two carrion-crows mobbing a buzzard overhead, he will surely mark one and all of them. Of knowledge and observation, then, he has a rich treasure to pour down before us, and he has, moreover, the imagination that not only further enriches but also beautifies it. Finally he has the literary skill to present to us his wares in a most attractive form. If anything, his artistic conscience is rather too sensitive, and at times possibly he carries the work of finishing and polishing to excess; but before we can find fault he wins us back by such a touch as this: "He (the otter) rolled, shook himself, and set off again, roaming round the fen until he heard again the cry of running water. The cry came out of a hollow whose sides were scarred by the sliding of broken hummocks, _the faint cry of a river new born_." The spirit of Dartmoor and of Exmoor is, above all, the spirit of the waters, and to Mr. Williamson it is a spirit so familiar as to have become a part of himself. He loves the air, as witness his pictures of raven and peregrine and other birds. He loves the earth, as testify his studies of fitch and fox and badger. But above all he loves the water--fresh, brackish, salt; mist, rain, snow, ice--he follows it lovingly in all its forms. For him, I think, as for some others of us the Spirit of God still moves, as before the creation, upon the face of the waters. And now it is time for me to drop Mr. Williamson's hand as a leader, and leave him to guide his readers over moor and fen and meadow, over land and stream and sea, in the track of Tarka the Otter. I have been privileged to follow him earlier than other men; and if all shall find the journey as full of interest and joy as myself, then our author will have made for us a happier and more beautiful world, a world in which we can seek refuge among the toils and the worries of life, and be thankful. J. W. FORTESCUE. THE FIRST YEAR TARKA THE OTTER CHAPTER ONE