THE DAY'S WORK 221 



drainage, and as, save in the mosses, there is not a yard 

 of absolutely level land in a circumference of fifty 

 miles, the rain is off on its way to the sea as fast as 

 it touches the land. One lovely evening as you turn 

 homewards from your sport, you see grim clouds with 

 all manner of sinister browns and sepias dashed into 

 their colouring banking up over the Atlantic. If that 

 is not sufficient for you, if you disbelieve the ominous 

 shakes of the keeper's head, reluctant experience must 

 yield conviction to the winged heralds of the coming 

 storm. The huge white sea-gulls come floating up the 

 glens with plaintive cries. The swallows are skimming 

 through the waving grass in your paddock in early 

 seasons you get in your rough hay-crop somewhere 

 towards the middle of October ; and as for the mercury 

 in the weather-glass, it has vanished clean out of sight 

 in the bulb. Next morning you can scarcely hear the 

 heavy drip from the storm-gallery for the deadening 

 plash without. Not a vision of the lake, although 

 you can hear it grinding on its gravel bank within 

 a few feet of your windows ; the only life you dis- 

 tinguish among the waste of waters is the ponies, that 

 in vain search for shelter and companionship, and with 

 streaming hides are leaning miserably against the gables. 

 So it goes on day after day, until you have a profound 

 sympathy with the uneasy impatience of Noah, when 

 he raised the window-sash and started the raven on its 

 mission. You have the Times, it is true, the Pall 

 Mall and the Saturday, and some of the magazines ; 

 a choice selection of green and yellow novels you have 



