240 THE GROUSE 



The road follows with devious windings 

 the vagaries of miniature headland, pro- 

 montory, and bay, and the still surface 

 mirrors the pale beds of flags and rushes 

 on the water's edge, the bolder, deeper, 

 outlines of the clusters of noble pines 

 behind, and the long slopes of woodland 

 and pasture receding into the misty 

 shadows where the rugged hills dominate 

 the whole picture. 



The illusion is complete, save only 

 where it is broken by the widening circles 

 of a rising trout, or shattered into lines of 

 molten silver by the stampede of a family 

 of startled coots : skeins of mallard and 

 widgeon take flight and rise in a series 

 of graceful evolutions against the clear 

 sky ; while under the overhanging bank 

 of a streamlet from the hills you surprise 

 the tall, stiff form of a heron, standing, 

 Narcissus-like, lost in a rapt contemplation 

 of his own reflection. 



You feel at peace with all the world, 

 and your thoughts wander idly through the 

 varied happenings of the past few days. 



