232 A WeaseVs Victim. 



fashion of the old time, cai'ries a bell. She comes 

 and butts one playfully, and insists on her poll being 

 rubbed. Then there is more grunting, but of a dif- 

 ferent kind — this time easily recognized : it is a herd 

 of swine searching for the beech-mast and acorns. 

 With them, fortunately, comes the swineherd — a lad, 

 who shows a drive which leads to the nearest edge of 

 the forest. 



Half an hour after leaving the swineherd, a rabbit 

 is found sitting on his haunches, motionless, with the 

 head drooping on one side. He takes no notice — he 

 is dying. Just beneath one ear is a shght trace of 

 blood — it is the work of a weasel, who fled on hear- 

 ing approaching footsteps. Soon a film must form 

 over the beautiful eye of the hunted creature : let us 

 in mercy strike him a sharp blow on the head with the 

 heav}^ end of the walking-stick, and so spare him the 

 prolonged sense of death. A hundred yards further 

 is a gate, and beyond that an arable field. On com- 

 ing near the gate a hawk glides swiftly downwards 

 over the hedge that there joins the forest. A cloud 

 of sparrows instantly rise from .the stubble, and fly 

 chirping in terror to the hedge for shelter ; but one 

 is too late, the hawk has him in his talons. Yonder 

 is a row of wheat ricks, the fresh straw with which 

 they have just been covered contrasting with the 

 brown thatch of the farmhouse in the hollow. There 

 a refreshing glass of ale is forthcoming, and the way 

 is pointed out. 



