A Rural Nocturne

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A RURAL NOCTURNE

How tranquil was the night —from the open win-

dow of the quiet room, what a scene of rural peace

Nature appeared to sleep and gently dream. Occa-

sionally a dog would bay, deep-voiced, yet faintly,

from some unseen farm-house, in the distance; a

night-bird would sometimes cry; the slowly-passing

v/aters of a canal lapped against the foundation stones

of the village inn, with a lulling sound; but all else

was still. Once, indeed, a canal-boat passed, yet it

seemed but an unreal shadow, and upon the white

tow-horse, I believe the driver slept. A lamp shone

redly at the lattice of a little cottage; cows stood

ruminant upon the wide pasture green; the great

black-willows were islanded by the meadow-mist, and

beyond was the tall, dim spire of the village church.

Yes, all was peace. The crescent moon reflected

across the surface of the glossy water, and on the

tangled wild-growth that marked the water's edge,

was shown the work of the alcherrist of the night

the milk-weed, rushes, sweet-briars and thistles, were

all dewy-gemmed! ALFRED LAMBOURNE