WINDS OF HEAVEN. 49 
the hay ere thestorm—a mournful cry in the hollow house, 
as unhappy a note as if it were soaked February. 
In April, six miles away in the valley, a vast cloud 
came down with swan-shot of hail, black as blackest 
smoke, overwhelming house and wood, all gone and 
mixed with the sky ; and behind the mass there followed 
a white cloud, sunlit, dragging along the ground like a 
cumulus fallen to the earth. At sunset the sky cleared, 
and under the glowing rim of the sun a golden wind 
drove the host of vapour before it, scattering it to the 
right and left. Large pieces caught and tore themselves 
in the trees of the forest, and one curved fragment hurled 
from the ridge fell in the narrow coombe, lit up as it came 
down with golden sunset rays, standing out bright against 
the shadowed wood. Down it came slowly as it were with 
outstretched arms, loth to fall, carrying the coloured light 
of the sky to the very surface of the earth, 
