The Pelopaeus 



working, it sometimes happens that the ap- 

 proach to the dwelling is barred to her for 

 a time, or even for the whole day, either 

 by a curtain of steam rising from a stew- 

 pan or by clouds of smoke resulting from 

 damp firewood. Washing-days are the 

 most risky. From morning to night, the 

 housewife keeps the huge cauldron boiling 

 with all the odds and ends of the wood-shed: 

 chips, bits of bark, leaves, fuel that burns 

 with difficulty and intermittently. The 

 smoke from the hearth, the steam from the 

 cauldron and the reek from the wash-tub 

 form in front of the fireplace a dense mist 

 with very few rifts in it. I have at rare 

 intervals surprised the Pelopaeus in the 

 presence of some such obstacle. 



It is told of the Water-ouzel, the Dipper, 

 that, to get back to his nest, he will fly 

 through the cataract under a mill-weir. 

 The Pelopaeus is even more daring: with 

 her pellet of mud in her teeth, she crosses 

 the cloud of smoke and disappears behind 

 it, henceforth invisible, so thick is the 

 screen. A spasmodic chirring, her work- 

 ing-song, alone betrays the mason at her 

 task. The building rises mysteriously be- 

 hind the cloud. The ditty ceases and the 

 Wasp emerges from the steam-flakes, fit 

 63 



