FUR AND FEATHERS 135 



moorland, the homeliness of fields. Thence and not from 

 the rubbish heaps of towns — not even those sublimated 

 seven of Rome — does the indwelling spiritual life of man 

 draw its best inspiration. 



And in moor or field, wood or open hill or dale, fur and 

 feather go with us. 



The rabbit cocks one ear irritably at our distant ap- 

 proach, his white scut jerks defiantly as he retreats from 

 closer quarters ; and even if one is not a sportsman, the 

 mere sight of him as fair game brings a primeval satisfac- 

 tion to most of us. 



" I saw one, two, three — so many — rabbits." Who 

 has not recounted the sight as part of the pleasures of a 

 walk ? 



Who, also, has not paused to watch rabbits popping in 

 and out of their holes and not felt a thrill of virtue at keep- 

 ing a dog from chasing them if they happen to belong to 

 someone else ? For most men are poachers at heart. 



Then a hare, springing suddenly from its form close to 

 our feet, is a never-failing source of pleasurable surprise, of 

 wonder that it remained so long invisible. Again, the 

 watching of a herd of red deer as they trail along a sunset 

 sky-line, their feet on earth, their horns in Heaven, is un- 

 speakable delight, while the tiniest shrew-mouse twittering 

 before us on the path, for all the world like a nervous old 

 lady before a 'bus in Piccadilly, fills us with a like naughty 

 amusement and kindly desire to do policeman for once and 

 stop the traffic ! 



Then in the woods there is always the squirrel who 

 " when it be hunted cannot be driven to the ground unlesse 

 extremitie of faintnesse cause her to do so through unwil- 



