44 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



interruptingly : * but what's that what have you 

 got there ? ' 



( This, sir ? Lor' blesh ye ! this is the earth 

 where that ould vixen lived as gave you such a 

 run last winter: I've know'd a litter o' seven 

 whelps reared in this hole, an' heerd 'em a yelp- 

 ing an' howling o' the summer evenings as if the' 

 wondered when upon airth cub 'unting 'ould 

 begin ! ' 



This was the climax, usually. No martyr ever 

 suffered more than I used to carry home to 

 breakfast imo sub pectore, by way of travesty to 

 my over-night's imaginative enjoyment at the paper- 

 prospect of large enclosures and unimpeded plough- 

 shares. 



But the day of compensation came at last ; 

 and with it came my first discovery of the extra- 

 ordinary sheep-sightedness of spade-and-mattock- 

 wielding humanity. Not till the fence was clear 

 away, bank, thorns, pollards, ash-trees, rabbit-holes, 

 fox-earths, and all, did I ever hear the exclamation 



* Well ! this is a wonderful alteration, to be sure ; 

 why, I never thought to see it look in this way ! It's 

 quite a beautiful field now ! ' 



' One cheer for THE MAP after all ! ' quoth I to 

 myself, as a1^ next candle-light down I sat again 



