CHAPTER XII
A WINTER NIGHT: OLD TRICKS: PHEASANT-STALKING: MATCHLOCK _versus_
BREECH-LOADER: CONCLUSION
When the moon is full and nearly at the zenith it seems to move so
slowly that the shadows scarcely change their position. In winter, when
the branches are bare, a light that is nearly vertical over a tree can
cast but little shadow, and that falls immediately around the trunk. So
that the smallness of the shadow itself and the slowness of its motion
together tend to conceal it.
The snow on the ground increases the sense of light, and in approaching
the wood the scene is even more distinct than during the gloomy day. The
tips of the short stubble that has not yet been ploughed in places just
protrude above the surface, and the snow, frozen hard, crunches with a
low sound under foot. But for that all is perfectly still. The level
upland cornfields stretch away white and vacant to the hills--white,
too, and clear against the sky. The plain is silent, and nothing that
can be seen moves upon its surface.
On the verge of the wood which occupies the sloping ground there stands
a great oak tree, and down one side of its trunk is a narrow white
streak of snow. Leaning against the oak and looking upwards, every
branch and twig is visible, lit up by the moon. Overhead the stars are
dimmed, but they shine more brightly yonder above the hills.
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