THE LAST OF THE BARONS 



I 



THE Baron sat perched on an old gnarled 

 oak, gazing across the deep ravine below him, 

 where the noisy river leapt from pool to pool. 

 He had been far over the moorland that day 

 with his wife, searching for a safe nesting-place, 

 and had given up the search in despair and 

 returned to his old home ; but the Baroness had 

 dallied and been left behind, and now he was 

 expecting her as the sun began to sink in the 

 west. He sat there silent and sad, the last, so 

 he thought, of an ancient race ; his head, almost 

 white with age, slightly bent downwards, and 

 his long forked tail sadly weather-worn and 

 drooping. 



It was a fresh evening in early April, and one 

 sweet shower after another had begun to entice 



