canvas painting

those days I was young, and all sorts of fancies bright and dark
tenanted my mind: the memories of nursery stories were there amongst
other rubbish; and when they recurred, maturing youth added to them
a vigour and vividness beyond what childhood could give. As this horse
approached, and as I watched for it to appear through the dusk, I
remembered certain of Bessie's tales, wherein figured a
North-of-England spirit called a 'Gytrash,' which, in the form of
horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came
upon belated travellers, as this horse was now coming upon me.
tramp, tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the
hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made
him a distinct object against the trees. It was exactly one form of
Bessie's Gytrash- a lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head:
it passed me, however, quietly enough; not staying to look up, with
strange pretercanine eyes, in my face, as I half expected it would.
The horse followed,- a tall steed, and on its back a rider. The man,
the human being, broke the spell at once. Nothing ever rode the