THE FACE OF THE FIELDS 5 



was, but not fearful. No shadow of dread hangs 

 dark and ominous across the sunshine of his pas- 

 ture. Shadows come — like a flash ; and like a 

 flash they vanish away. 



We cannot go far into the fields without sight- 

 ing the hawk and the snake, the very shapes of 

 Death. The dread Thing, in one form or another, 

 moves everywhere, down every wood-path and 

 pasture-lane, through the black close waters of the 

 mill-pond, out under the open of the winter sky, 

 night and day, and every day, the four seasons 

 through. I have seen the still surface of a pond 

 break suddenly with a swirl, and flash a hundred 

 flecks of silver into the light, as the minnows leap 

 from the jaws of the pike. Then a loud rattle, a 

 streak of blue, a splash at the centre of the swirl, 

 and I see the pike, twisting and bending in the 

 beak of the kingfisher. The killer is killed ; but 

 at the mouth of the nest-hole in the steep sand- 

 bank, swaying from a root in the edge of the turf 

 above, hangs the black snake, the third killer, and 

 the belted kingfisher, dropping the pike, darts off 

 with a cryM have been afield at times when one 

 tragedy has followed another in such rapid and 

 continuous succession as to put a whole shining, 



