232 THE LAND'S END 



mind perhaps, and then, perhaps all at once remem- 

 bering that he had another little hoard somewhere 

 else, he started up and went off in a new direction 

 with the same quiet trot as before, jumping lightly 

 from stone to stone, and was soon lost to sight. 



The raven I have spoken of was one of four that 

 haunted this part of the coast, where they were very 

 much hated by a pair of kestrels. One evening just 

 before sunset I had a great surprise when standing in 

 a field half a mile from the sea talking to a farmer a 

 flock of thirty-two ravens flew over our heads. It 

 was impossible to make a mistake in this case, as the 

 birds were flying quietly and low, passing directly 

 over us at a height of scarcely forty yards. Un- 

 doubtedly they were strangers from a great distance, 

 perhaps from the northern extremity of Scotland, and 

 were making a tour round the whole island, but I had 

 never heard of a migration of ravens into Cornwall 

 in winter. 



The two coldest days during the frost were the 

 one on which I watched the fox and the day follow- 

 ing. In the morning I had found the large window 

 panes of my sitting-room thickly coated with a 

 beautiful frost pattern, but the sky was clear and 

 with the sun shining on the window and a big fire in 

 the grate I thought it would soon be gone. It con- 

 tinued all day, although the fire never went out ! 

 The birds were now in desperate case : it appeared 

 as if they had given up searching for food in despair, 

 and were now idly waiting for a change or for the 

 end, hunched up in Jany shelter they could find from 



