CHAPTER IX 



OLD MICHAELMAS DAY 



AN hour after dawn on Old Michaelmas 

 day ; deep silence broods over all, and 

 a dense white mist blots out each feature 

 in the landscape, holding everything 

 wrapped in its chill embrace. 



Not a leaf stirring, till presently a 

 careful tread becomes audible, and the 

 stalwart form of an underkeeper looms 

 up through the mist, muffled up in heavy 

 cape and woollen scarf against the cold 

 air of morning, a stout buckthorn staff 

 in his right hand, showing that he is not 

 unprepared to meet any possible emer- 

 gency. This is his domain, and he is 

 making a last round to satisfy himself 

 that all is well on his beat, before the 

 day which is even now breaking, when 



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