MYSTICAL PASTURES 239 



one was about even in the middle of the day fly 

 hunting though house flies are still plentiful. 

 The hornets seem to be almost the first insects 

 to succumb to the cold. The black wasps are far 

 hardier. With their passing goes that tiny shrill 

 uproar of the pasture and in the amber quiet of 

 sunset the place becomes a vast whispering gal- 

 lery. Tiny sounds seem to be entangled here 

 and made audible f r.om very far. The quack of 

 incoming ducks a mile away across the pond 

 sounds as if on the nearer shore. The laughter 

 of children comes as far, nor can you readily 

 locate the direction. At such times the mystical 

 quality of the place deepens with the peace of it. 

 I notice then, as I did not notice in midday, the 

 fairy rings in the grass on the little rise of ground 

 and am half-willing to believe I stand by a fairy 

 rath and call the childish shouts and laughter 

 that seem to rise from it the glee of fairies over 

 the coming of night. After dark any one of 

 these fairy rings now growing beneath my eyes 

 may open and let out the troop. Their comings 

 and goings need be only a little more mysterious 

 than those of the chipmunks in the old wall or 

 the Cingalia catenaria that is again flitting forth 



