IS IN PERIL OF THE STREET
On the Sunday following this interview with the Truth Mr.Lavender, who ever found the day of rest irksome to his strenuous spirit, left his house after an early supper.It, had been raining all day, but the sinking sun had now emerged and struck its level light into the tree tops from a still cloudy distance.Followed by Blink, he threaded the puddled waste which lies to the west of the Spaniard's Road, nor was it long before the wild beauty of the scene infected his spirit, and he stood still to admire the world spread out.The smoke rack of misted rain was still drifting above the sunset radiance in an apple-green sky; and behind Mr.Lavender, as he gazed at those clouds symbolical of the world's unrest, a group of tall, dark pine-trees, wild and witch-like, had collected as if in audience of his cosmic mood.He formed a striking group for a painter, with the west wind flinging back his white hair, and fluttering his dark moustache along his cheeks, while Blink, a little in front of him, pointed at the prospect and emitted barks whose vigour tossed her charming head now to this side now to that.