IN THE WEALD 83 
reach, you can see the general outline of things. The 
bolder part of the clouds gets darker in colour, almost 
inky, and the light edges are lit up with a brassy light. 
It looks as if one were standing under a vast dark 
dome, with the light coming down through a rent in 
the top of it. As the air moves the corn, which is just 
beginning to ripen, the golden-green ears show like 
points of light as they bend down and spring up again. 
The brush-willows sway for a moment, and are all in 
a flutter, their pointed grey-green leaves quivering and 
spinning. Then all is still, there is not a sound, not 
a chirp. We walk into the yard of the manor farm 
to see how this gathering of clouds will affect live 
creatures. The swallows are all right, for you can see 
them poke their heads out from their resting-places. 
One that has its nest on a beam over our heads flits 
down, and flutters the length of the shed and back 
again, like some great long-winged moth, so gentle is 
the bird's flight. This is merely to see if we come 
with any ill intent. Being convinced in his bird-mind 
that we are quite harmless, with the feeblest of twitters 
he sinks down into his nest again ; for swallows use 
their nests as resting-places when their young are on 
the wing. Flocks of sparrows rush up with a whirr, 
and dive into the holes in the thatch, from which 
refuge we can hear them congratulating themselves 
