THE SURPLUS OF SUMMER 241 



existent at the winter solstice. An overwhelming 

 proportion of the surplus will be non-existent before 

 another breeding season begins, the manner of their 

 removal being far more varied and dramatic than the 

 killing of as many human heroes in the pages of 

 Homer. Some for the fox, some for the stoat, some 

 small ones for the owl, some for the thundering gun, 

 some for the quiet rifle, some for the ferret, the cat, 

 the poacher's lurcher, the wire, the motor-car, the 

 mowing-machine or reaper, till the hardy or lucky 

 remainder of next year's horde sees again the young 

 grass and hears the cry of the returned chiff-chaff. 



Heat expands and cold contracts. This axiom of 

 indifference when applied to physics seems to us like 

 tragedy when applied to the hordes of living summer 

 beings that must be reduced to a tenth by the winter. 

 It seems to be another phenomenon, the atoms being 

 not merely pressed together but picked off and 

 destroyed. We will not put it higher than " seems," 

 for we have seen the dead thrush build up the living 

 hawk, and for all we know, the vanished rabbits of 

 one year may account for the fecundity of the next. 

 The manure-heap has its tale of increase not merely in 

 the worms that batten in its rich decay, but in dozens 

 and dozens of snakes' eggs glued in a kind of double 

 chain, usually coiled into bunches of extra large 

 white grapes with shells almost as tough as leather. 

 With marvellous secrecy the great snakes, whom 

 every unreasoning farm hand kills at sight, have 

 assembled almost under the very windows, and have 

 placed their eggs here where alone they can germi- 

 nate. The heat of this summer and of last winter is 

 converting the liquid contents of each into scaly, 

 16 



