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Still further on, when the sheep are all left behind, he may
see a hawk perched upon a great boulder. He will see it take
flight when he comes near, and cleave the air below him, and
hang above the woods,- to the infinite terror, as he knows,
of many a small creature there, and then whirl away to some
distant part of the park. Perhaps a heavy buzzard may rise,
flapping, from its nest on the moor, or pounce from a crag
in the direction of any water-birds that may be about the
springs and pools in the hills. There is no other sound,
unless it be the hum of the gnats in the hot sunshine. There
is an aged man in the district, however, who hears more than
this, and sees more than people below would, perhaps,
imagine. An old shepherd has the charge of four rain gauges
which are set up on four ridges,- desolate, misty spots,
sometimes below and often above the clouds. He visits each
once a month, and notes down what these guages (sic) record;
and when the tall old man, with his staff, passes out of
sight into the cloud, or among the cresting rocks, it is a
striking thought that science has set up a tabernacle in
these wildernesses, and found a priest among the shepherds.
That old man has seen and heard wonderful things:- has trod
upon rainbows, and been waited upon by a dim retinue of
spectral mists. He has seen the hail and the lightnings go
forth as from under his hand, and has stood in the sunshine,
listening to the thunder growling, and the tempest bursting
beneath his feet.
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