ANTLER AND FERN. 79 



points and size, the beam becomes thinner, 

 and from four on top the points dwindle to 

 three, and then to two, so as to look like 

 those of a young stag. 



There is no more beautiful creature than 

 a stag in his pride of antler, his coat of ruddy 

 gold, his grace of form and motion. He seems 

 the natural owner of the ferny coombes, the 

 oak woods, the broad slopes of heather. They 

 belong to him, and he steps upon the sward in 

 lordly mastership. The land is his and the 

 hills, the sweet streams, and rocky glens. He 

 is infinitely more natural than the cattle and 

 sheep that have strayed into his domains. 

 For some inexplicable reason, although they 

 too are in reality natural, when he is present 

 they look as if they had been put there and 

 were kept there by artificial means. They 

 do not, as painters say, shade in with the 

 colours and shape of the landscape. He is 

 as natural as an oak, or a fern, or a rock 

 itself. He is earth-born — autochthon — and 

 holds possession by descent. Utterly scorn- 



