IV 

 A WOODLAND TRAGEDY 



NATURE is rich in tragedies ; but somehow, 

 the tragedies which are long familiar to 

 us cease to be tragic. We accept them 

 as merely picturesque little episodes in our daily 

 existence. Nobody is astonished, for example, 

 when a cat plays with a mouse before killing it ; 

 nor when she teaches her attentive kittens how 

 to let it go in sport, maimed and half dead ; it 

 does not shock us when the poor dazed little 

 beast, thinking the danger over, makes a wild 

 burst for freedom, that she shows them how to 

 pat it with one cruel paw and still further disable 

 it. Facts like these are too common and too long 

 known to appeal to us strongly. We note them 

 with a very languid interest. But when people 

 first learn some unfamiliar example of Nature's 

 cruelty, I almost always find they are pro- 

 foundly struck by it. The novelty of the case 

 gives it vividness and makes it sink in deep. 

 And I know no instance which impresses the 

 ordinary observer so much at sight as the first 

 time when, wandering accidentally through some 

 peaceful copse or wood, he finds himself face to 



