312 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



birds began, and the eastern sky became streaked with 

 a brilliant red, indicative of Sol's propinquity, as he 

 struggled up through the encircling snow-white mist 

 with which the whole winding valley of our glorious 

 Wye was wrapped. Dressing at once, I descended 

 rapidly from our already rejoicing plateau to the im- 

 mediate river-side. It was "shivering like," as old 

 Melon expresses it, in the lower regions at first, but 

 gradually a warmer influence stole upon the glistening 

 scene. All nature, save man, seemed awake and stir- 

 ring. The rooks, which on our passage through their 

 demesne had gone, alarmedly cawing, into mid-air 

 (their first-bom having lately fallen by the bullet), were 

 back again amidst the tree-tops. A cow lowed in the 

 distance. The ponies browsed upon the utmost points 

 of the illumined hill-side. The yellow wagtail fluttered 

 across the sedge. The darkling swift shot on its pre- 

 datory flight. The lustrous starling (that " shopkeeper 

 nation" of birds) worked industriously for the small 

 profits which a lately mown bank yielded. The 

 haughty pheasant-cock crowed and flapped his wings 

 upon the upper lawn. An occasional fish splashed 

 boldly. All nature seemed awake and stirring, except 

 the human animal, of which I saw only one specimen, a 

 shepherd, in the distance. The only thing reclining 

 was a grey goat that belongs to one of the little girls, 

 who is now away from home, and whom she follows 

 like a dog over meadow and stile. " Absence makes 

 the heart grow fonder," and had dulled proportionately, 

 it is possible, the faithful creature's appetite. But 

 above all enjoyable was the rippling song of the silver 

 stream over the gravel at our feet, and about the 

 margin of our pet siesta rock. 



