82 



STRAY 'AW AYS 



and always in the deepest crevices the eye of the 



water gleamed to the 

 J candlelight. 



The air was dead and 

 cold; the sense of sus- 

 i pended weight, of huge 

 force, of indifference to 

 the human creature, was 

 oppressive. At length the 

 opening became feasible 

 only for a lizard or an eel, 

 and after that for the 

 water, moving in unimagi- 

 nable stealth through the 

 veins of the rock. 



We turned and worked 

 back towards the daylight, 

 lost to us for some min- 

 utes ; the darkness seemed 

 desirous to keep us, and 

 created a childish horror 

 of its dominion. 



Then the sane, firm 



radiance of outer day 



was born, the trodden 



grass, and the grey January sky; it seemed a new 



heaven and a new earth. 



Martin Ross. 



1898. 



A WATER-BEARER 



