136 A BOOK OF MORTALS 



ling compulsion ; for such is the stately mind of this little 

 beast that while her limbs and strength lasteth, she tarrieth 

 and saveth herself in the tree tops." 



From whence the old writer concludes we should 

 " gather a perfect pattern that we too keep above in the 

 loftie palace of heavenlie meditation." 



But even if we prefer to gather other things than mere 

 morality in the pathway of life, of the wild flowers, the dog 

 roses (by the way, what a sinful use of the word " dog " is 

 that which makes it a damnatory adjunct to such trivialities 

 as Latin) attract us, there is many a quaint fancy for our 

 amusement, many a dainty problem for our wisdom to solve 

 amongst fur and feathers. 



Is it possible, for instance, to think without throb of 

 heart, catch in the breath, of the skylark's choice when, 

 perceiving a hawk in mid-air it has to decide between sink- 

 ing to the earth or soaring still higher for safety ? 



Fateful decision, supreme second in anyone's life, such 

 choice. 



Shall the pulsing, passionate praise rise higher, nearer 

 to the sun, telling of the untrammelled freedom of the 

 ether or shall it cease ? Shall silence come to the singing 

 soul as it remembers the sweet slavery of earthly love .? 



How many odes have not been written to the sky- 

 lark ? Most .poets have had their say on it, and yet this 

 bit of the bird's life remains adequately unsung. 



But this is true also of a thousand things to be seen by 

 the seeing eye in the haunts of fur and feather. It needs 

 the lute of an Orpheus to draw from the life of the woods, 

 the fields, the moors, its full aroma. 



We have to consider, also, the sportsman's side of the 



