WINDS OF HEAVEN. 49 



the hay ere the storm — a mournful cry in the hollow house, 

 as unhappy a note as if it were soaked February. 



In April, six miles away in the valley, a vast cloud 

 came down with swan-shot of hail, black as blackest 

 smoke, overwhelming house and wood, all gone and 

 mixed with the sky ; and behind the mass there followed 

 a white cloud, sunlit, dragging along the ground like a 

 cumulus fallen to the earth. At sunset the sky cleared, 

 and under the glowing rim of the sun a golden wind 

 drove the host of vapour before it, scattering it to the 

 right and left. Large pieces caught and tore themselves 

 in the trees of the forest, and one curved fragment hurled 

 from the ridge fell in the narrow coombe, lit up as it came 

 down with golden sunset rays, standing out bright against 

 the shadowed wood. Down it came slowly as it were with 

 outstretched arms, loth to fall, carrying the coloured light 

 of the sky to the very surface of the earth. 



E 



