88 THE FACE OF THE FIELDS 



into the air, and swinging it quickly to the four 

 quarters, he fixed my direction, and turning his 

 back upon me, tumbled off in a dreadful hurry 

 for home. 



This interesting, though somewhat tame, ex- 

 perience, would have worn the complexion of 

 an adventure for my neighbors, a bare escape, — 

 a ruined Sunday suit, or, at least, a lost jumper 

 or overalls. I had never lost so much as a round- 

 about in all my life. My neighbors had had in- 

 numerable passages with this ramping beast, most 

 of them on the edge of the dark, and many of 

 them verging hard upon the tragic. I had small 

 patience with it all. I wished the whole neigh- 

 borhood were with me, that I might take this 

 harmless little wood-pussy up in my arms and 

 teach them again the first lesson of the Kingdom 

 of Heaven, and of this earthly Paradise, too, and 

 incidentally put an end forever to these tales of 

 Sunday clothes and nights of banishment in the 

 barn. 



As nobody was present to see, of course I did 

 not pick the wood-pussy up. I did not need to 

 prove to myself the baselessness of these wild 

 misgivings ; nor did I wish, without good cause, 



