er bends still lower and the
small juniper trees make themselves still smaller. The wind in the Venn
chases along whistling and shrieking, clamouring and howling, pries
into the quagmires and turf pits, whips up the muddy puddles, throws
itself forcibly into the thickets of fir trees that have just been
replanted, so that they groan and moan and creak as they cower, and
then rages on round the weather-worn crosses.

The blast roars across the moor like the sound of an organ or is it
like the roar of the foaming breakers? No, there is no water there that
rises and falls and washes the beach with its white waves, there is
nothing but the Venn; but it resembles the sea in its wide expanse.
And its air is as strong as the air that blows from the sea, and
the shrill scream of its birds is like the scream of the sea-mew, and
nature plays--here as there--the song of her omnipotence on the organ
of the storm with powerful touch.

The small carriage crept over the top of the high Venn. The winds
wanted to blow it down, as though it were a tiny beetle. They hurled
themselves against it, more and more furiously, yelped and howled as
though they were wolves, whined round its wheels, snuffed round its
sides, made a stand against it in front and tugged at it from behind as
though with greedy teeth: away with it! And away with those sitting
inside it! Those intruders, those thieves, they were taking something
away with them that belonged to the Venn, to the great Venn alone.

It was a struggle. Although the driver lashed away at them the brave
horses shied, then remained standing, snorting with terror. The man was
obliged to jump off and lead them some distance, and still they
continued to tremble.

Something rose out of the pits and beckoned with waving gauzy
garments, and tried to hold fast with moist arms. There was a
snatching, a catching, a reaching, a tearing asunder of mists and a
treacherous rolling together again, a chaos of whirling, twirling,
brewing grey vapours; and plaintive tones from beings that could not be
seen.

Had all those in the graves come to life again? Were those rising
who had slept there, wakened by the snorting of the horses and the
crack of the whip, indignant at being disturbed in their rest? What
were those sounds?

The quiet Venn had become alive. Piercing sounds and whistling
shrill cries and groaning and the flapping of wings and
indignant screams mingled with the dull roar of the organ of th