While yet the sulphurous smoke lingers, slow to disperse, over the cool dewy sward, there comes back an echo from the wood behind, then another from the mere, then another and another beyond.
The distant sculls have ceased to work in the rowlocks--those in the punt are listening to the echoes; most likely they have been fishing for tench in the deep holes under the black shadow of the aspens.

(Tench feed in the dark: if you wish to take a big one wait till it is necessary to fix a piece of white paper on the float.) Now put the empty cartridge in your pocket instead of throwing it aside; pull the hare's neck across your knee, and hurry off.

But you may safely stay to harle him; for those very echoes that have been heard a mile round about are the best safeguard: not one man in a thousand could tell the true direction whence the sound of the explosion originated.
The pleasure of wandering in a wood was so great that it could never be resisted, and did not solely arise from the instinct of shooting.

Many expeditions were made without a gun, or any implement of destruction, simply to enjoy the trees and thickets.

There was one large wood very carefully preserved, and so situate in an open country as not to be easily entered.