78 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



twinkling spangle, reflected in the water ac my feet, 

 warned me that the bright little sentinels of Heaven 

 were taking one by one their watch-posts, and 

 beckoning me to follow the example which one 

 weary toiler after another had set,'* even to the 

 very Plow that lay sleeping in its bed in the 

 half-finished furrow at my side, as if nothing 

 would ever move it again. And then through 

 the still night air, as I moved tardily homeward, 

 there would come a sound a strange sound, which 

 the diggers of those ancient marl-pits never heard 

 by day or night. "Was it a beetle, or some other 

 lazy insect, homeward bound, that made that pe- 

 culiar 'hum which seemed to thrill through the 

 atmosphere, far away at first then gradually 

 nearer, and then louder and more tremulous, as 

 a slight gust of wind brushed by then fainter 



and fainter still and then gone! "What was 



it? if the ear could measure miles, it might seem 

 to have traversed some seven or eight, before it 

 reached me. Oh! ye who tilled these fields and 

 dug these marl-pits in the days of narrow lanes 



* " et jam nox humida ccela etc." 



" And now humid night descends from the sky, and the 

 sotting stars invite sleep." Virg. /Encid, Lib. 2. v. 9. 



