156 <I(4!MBLES OF A VOMINIS 



dead leaves among dismantled boughs, or the ring of 

 footsteps on the frozen road. Hushed are the noises of 

 the summer night, unheard its ceaseless sounds of stirring 

 life. 



For nightfall then, though ever closing tired eyes in 

 sleep, still roused slaves of Nature from their rest, and in 

 the hours of darkness there was stillness but not silence. 

 Then even before the sun was down were heard shrill 

 voices, faint but still audible, of bats that fluttered out 

 upon their noiseless wings. Then in the dusk the beetle 

 droned along the highway. On the edge of every coppice 

 rang loud the chirp of crickets. Along the bank of the 

 river rose the hum of innumerable gnats. Now, in the 

 dark of cave and tower and tree, the bats hang motion- 

 less. The wings of the beetle are folded in his winter 

 sleep; long since silent is the chorus of the crickets. 

 Vanished is the vast array of gnats whose unseen armies 

 raised over the woods that mighty hum that filled the 

 summer air. 



Nor are bats and insects the only figures that have 

 vanished from the shadowy scene. No more at night- 

 fall does the hedgehog stir abroad, emerging from his 

 snug retreat to forage in the farmyard or the cover. 

 Now, rolled in a very ball of prickles, he lies asleep in 

 his cosy nest among the roots of some old tree. The 

 hedgehog, though he does good service in destroying 

 snails and beetles, has a reputation not wholly free from 

 stain, and his weakness for misappropriating eggs and 

 chickens has frequently got him into difficulties in un- 

 suspected rat-traps. Though not recognised as a popular 



