CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



the green-backed, white-breasted peaseweep walked 

 close by us in the mist; and sight of wonder, that 

 made even in that quandary by the quagmire our 

 heart beat with joy — lo! never seen before, and sel- 

 dom since, three wee peaseweeps, not three days old, 

 little bigger than shrew-mice, all covered with black- 

 ish down, interspersed with long white hair, running 

 after their mother! But the large hazel eye of the she 

 peaseweep, restless even in the most utter solitude, 

 soon spied us glowering at her, and her young ones, 

 through our tears; and not for a moment doubting 

 — Heaven forgive her for the shrewd but cruel sus- 

 picion! — that we were Lord Eglinton's gamekeeper 

 — with a sudden shrill cry that thrilled to the mar- 

 row in our cold backbone — flapped and fluttered 

 herself away into the mist, while the little black bits 

 of down disappeared, like devils, into the moss. The 

 croaking of the frogs grew terrible. And worse and 

 worse, close at hand, seeking his lost cows through 

 the mist, the bellow of the notorious red bull! We 

 began saying our prayers; and just then the sun 

 forced himself out into the open day, and, like the 

 sudden opening of the shutters of a room, the whole 

 world was filled with light. The frogs seemed to sink 

 among the pow-heads — as for the red bull who had 

 tossed the tinker, he was cantering away, with his 

 tail towards us, to a lot of cows on the hill; and hark 

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