A MOORLAND FIRE. 



carelessness in flinging down a match among 

 the arid fuel. A bicyclist's cigarette thrown 

 lightly by the roadside, a labourer's pipe 

 turned out casually upon the footpath any 

 such small thing is enough to set it going ; 

 and once lighted, the flames spread before 

 the wind with astonishing rapidity, licking 

 up with their fiery tongues whole leagues 

 of dry gorse, and leaping with frantic glee 

 and in crackling haste from bough to bough 

 of the pines and hollies. 



It is a strange sight, indeed, to see at 

 night one of these lurid deluges, sweeping 

 onward irresistibly, amid clouds of smoke 

 and loud snapping of boughs, on its work 

 of devastation. Terrible as it all is, it is 

 yet beautiful while it lasts : the red sibilant 

 flames, the fierce glare on the sky, the 

 beaters beating it down on its leeward edge 

 with branches of pine-trees, and silhouetted 

 in black against the bright glow of the fire, 

 all unite to make up a weird and intensely 

 impressive picture. But to the beasts and 

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