PRINCE <5t- peasant, PEER &- PHEASANT 107 



sheltering coombs of Devon, or you would not call 

 him foreign. 



Look through the white fog at that object on the 

 stubble near the fence, sad coloured and dark, it 

 seems just like a large clod of British earth ; but, lo ! 

 a golden gleam bursts through the cold haze, and as 

 we clatter past on the iron-bound road, blowing on 

 our fingers, and huddled in our coat collars, we see 

 the dark object turn, and raise to the winter sun the 

 glittering emerald neck, the burnished collar and 

 jewelled breast of the most brilliant of British birds, 

 the lordly cock pheasant, strutting proudly, with his 

 strong feet, inch-long spurs, and tapering tail, to 

 find his varied breakfast. 



See him again, under the giant oaks, amid the 

 strewn dead leaves, recalling the sheen of gilt or 

 copper vessels among the rusty red of Indian stuffs; 

 or picking his way daintily and fearlessly among the 

 traceries of the frozen parterre, perhaps even on the 

 terrace under the great windows, where he shines a 

 resplendent note of colour, as it were a Sfevres or 

 Dresden china vase in a stone hall. 



Again, look where, his short strong wings expanded 

 on the bosom of a rushing northerly blast, he sails 

 high above the oak and larch to where the bitterness 

 of death possibly awaits him in the valley. But no. 



