nbow-tinted with deep violet, and
rose, and orange. For a space immediately on each side of the mist the
primrose deepened into daffodil--a chaste yet intense splendour that
seemed to stretch into infinite distances and overlap the sharply
defined ridges of the dark horizon. The green of the upland pasture and
the brown of the ploughland beyond were veiled by a shimmering twilight
haze, in which the varied tints of the sky harmoniously blended, till
the umber and indigo shadows of night loomed over the hills, and the
daffodil flame flickered and vanished over the last red ember of the
afterglow. Thus the first calm day of early spring drew to its close.

Kweek, the little field-vole, asleep in his hidden nest beneath the
moss, was roused by the promise that Olwen, the White-footed, who had
come to her own beautiful valley among our western hills, whispered as
she passed along the slope above the mill-dam in the glen. He uncurled
himself on the litter of withered grass-bents that formed his winter
couch, crept towards the nearest bolt-hole of his burrow, and peeped at
the fleecy clouds as they wandered idly overhead. He inhaled long, deep
breaths of the fresh, warm air; then, conscious of new, increasing
strength, he continued his way underground to the granary in which, some
months ago, his mother had stored the columbine seeds. But the earth had
been scratched away from the storehouse door, and nothing remained of
the winter supplies. Hungry and thirsty, yet not daring to roam abroad
while the sun was high, the vole moved from chamber to chamber of his
burrow, washed himself thoroughly from the tip of his nose to the tip of
his tail, then, feeling lonely, awakened his parents from their heavy
sleep, and spent the afternoon thinking and dreaming, till the sun sank
low in the glory of the aureolin sky, and the robin's vesper trilled
wistfully from the hawthorns on the fringe of the shadowed wood.
Becoming venturesome with the near approach of night, but still
remembering the danger that had threatened him before the last period of
his winter sleep, he lifted himself warily above the ground, and for a
little while stayed near the mound of earth beside the door of his
burrow. Cramped from long disuse, every muscle in his body seemed in
need of vigorous exertion, while with each succeeding breath of the cool
twilight air his hunger and thirst increased.

Determined to find food and water, Kweek started towards the copse. No