LETTER XXIII 



TO THE SAME 



SELBORNE, /;/<? 8, 1775. 



DEAR SIR, On September the 2ist, 1741, being then on a 

 visit, and intent on field-diversions, I rose before daybreak : 

 when I came into the enclosures, I found the stubbles and 

 clover-grounds matted all over with a thick coat of cobweb, 

 in the meshes of which a copious and heavy dew hung so 

 plentifully that the whole face of the country seemed, as it 

 were, covered with two or three setting nets draw one over 

 another. When the dogs attempted to hunt, their eyes 

 were so blinded and hood-winked that they could not 

 proceed, but were obliged to lie down and scrape the in- 

 cumbrances from their faces with their forefeet, so that, 

 finding my sport interrupted, I returned home musing in 

 my mind on the oddness of the occurrence. 



As the morning advanced the sun became bright and 

 warm, and the day turned out one of those most lovely ones 

 which no season but the autumn produces ; cloudless, calm, 

 serene, and worthy of the South of France itself. 



About nine an appearance very unusual began to de- 

 mand our attention, a shower of cobwebs falling from 



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