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diff --git a/7030-h/7030-h.htm b/7030-h/7030-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5778636 --- /dev/null +++ b/7030-h/7030-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9635 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/html4/loose.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta content= +"HTML Tidy for Linux/x86 (vers 1st February 2003), see www.w3.org" +name="generator"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<title>Richard Jefferies - Field and Hedgerow</title> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Field and Hedgerow, by Richard Jefferies + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Field and Hedgerow + +Author: Richard Jefferies + +Posting Date: January 25, 2013 [EBook #7030] +Release Date: December, 2004 +First Posted: February 25, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIELD AND HEDGEROW *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Juliet Sutherland, Charles +Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading team + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1 align="center">FIELD AND HEDGEROW</h1> +<h2 align="center">BEING<br> +THE LAST ESSAYS<br> +OF<br> +RICHARD JEFFERIES<br> +<br> +<i>COLLECTED BY HIS WIDOW</i></h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr> +<h3>PREFACE.</h3> +<p>For permission to reprint my husband's latest Essays my sincere +thanks are due to the Editors of the following +publications:—<br> +<i>The Fortnightly Review.<br> + Manchester Guardian.<br> + Pall Mall Gazette.<br> + Standard.<br> + English Illustrated Magazine.<br> + Longman's Magazine.<br> + St. James's Gazette.<br> + Art Journal.<br> + Chambers's Journal.<br> + Magazine of Art.<br> + Century Illustrated Magazine.</i><br> +<br> +J.J.</p> +<br> +<hr> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p><a href="#1">HOURS OF SPRING</a></p> +<p><a href="#2">NATURE AND BOOKS</a></p> +<p><a href="#3">THE JULY GRASS</a></p> +<p><a href="#4">WINDS OF HEAVEN</a></p> +<p><a href="#5">THE COUNTRY SUNDAY</a></p> +<p><a href="#6">THE COUNTRY-SIDE: SUSSEX</a></p> +<p><a href="#7">SWALLOW-TIME</a></p> +<p><a href="#8">BUCKHURST PARK</a></p> +<p><a href="#9">HOUSE-MARTINS</a></p> +<p><a href="#10">AMONG THE NUTS</a></p> +<p><a href="#11">WALKS IN THE WHEAT-FIELDS</a></p> +<p><a href="#12">JUST BEFORE WINTER</a></p> +<p><a href="#13">LOCALITY AND NATURE</a></p> +<p><a href="#14">COUNTRY PLACES</a></p> +<p><a href="#15">FIELD WORDS AND WAYS</a></p> +<p><a href="#16">COTTAGE IDEAS</a></p> +<p><a href="#17">APRIL GOSSIP</a></p> +<p><a href="#18">SOME APRIL INSECTS</a></p> +<p><a href="#10">THE TIME OF YEAR</a></p> +<p><a href="#20">MIXED DAYS OF MAY AND DECEMBER</a></p> +<p><a href="#21">THE MAKERS OF SUMMER</a></p> +<p><a href="#22">STEAM ON COUNTRY ROADS</a></p> +<p><a href="#23">FIELD SPORTS IN ART: THE MAMMOTH HUNTER</a></p> +<p><a href="#24">BIRDS' NESTS</a></p> +<p><a href="#25">NATURE IN THE LOUVRE</a></p> +<p><a href="#26">SUMMER IN SOMERSET</a></p> +<p><a href="#27">AN ENGLISH DEER-PARK</a></p> +<p><a href="#28">MY OLD VILLAGE</a></p> +<p><a href="#29">MY CHAFFINCH</a></p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="1">HOURS OF SPRING.</a></h3> +<p>It is sweet on awaking in the early morn to listen to the small +bird singing on the tree. No sound of voice or flute is like to the +bird's song; there is something in it distinct and separate from +all other notes. The throat of woman gives forth a more perfect +music, and the organ is the glory of man's soul. The bird upon the +tree utters the meaning of the wind—a voice of the grass and +wild flower, words of the green leaf; they speak through that +slender tone. Sweetness of dew and rifts of sunshine, the dark +hawthorn touched with breadths of open bud, the odour of the air, +the colour of the daffodil—all that is delicious and beloved +of spring-time are expressed in his song. Genius is nature, and his +lay, like the sap in the bough from which he sings, rises without +thought. Nor is it necessary that it should be a song; a few short +notes in the sharp spring morning are sufficient to stir the heart. +But yesterday the least of them all came to a bough by my window, +and in his call I heard the sweet-briar wind rushing over the young +grass. Refulgent fall the golden rays of the sun; a minute only, +the clouds cover him and the hedge is dark. The bloom of the gorse +is shut like a book; but it is there—a few hours of warmth +and the covers will fall open. The meadow is bare, but in a little +while the heart-shaped celandine leaves will come in their +accustomed place. On the pollard willows the long wands are +yellow-ruddy in the passing gleam of sunshine, the first colour of +spring appears in their bark. The delicious wind rushes among them +and they bow and rise; it touches the top of the dark pine that +looks in the sun the same now as in summer; it lifts and swings the +arching trail of bramble; it dries and crumbles the earth in its +fingers; the hedge-sparrow's feathers are fluttered as he sings on +the bush.</p> +<p>I wonder to myself how they can all get on without me—how +they manage, bird and flower, without me to keep the calendar for +them. For I noted it so carefully and lovingly, day by day, the +seed-leaves on the mounds in the sheltered places that come so +early, the pushing up of the young grass, the succulent dandelion, +the coltsfoot on the heavy, thick clods, the trodden chickweed +despised at the foot of the gate-post, so common and small, and yet +so dear to me. Every blade of grass was mine, as though I had +planted it separately. They were all my pets, as the roses the +lover of his garden tends so faithfully. All the grasses of the +meadow were my pets, I loved them all; and perhaps that was why I +never had a 'pet,' never cultivated a flower, never kept a caged +bird, or any creature. Why keep pets when every wild free hawk that +passed overhead in the air was mine? I joyed in his swift, careless +flight, in the throw of his pinions, in his rush over the elms and +miles of woodland; it was happiness to see his unchecked life. What +more beautiful than the sweep and curve of his going through the +azure sky? These were my pets, and all the grass. Under the wind it +seemed to dry and become grey, and the starlings running to and fro +on the surface that did not sink now stood high above it and were +larger. The dust that drifted along blessed it and it grew. Day by +day a change; always a note to make. The moss drying on the tree +trunks, dog's-mercury stirring under the ash-poles, bird's-claw +buds of beech lengthening; books upon books to be filled with these +things. I cannot think how they manage without me.</p> +<p>To-day through the window-pane I see a lark high up against the +grey cloud, and hear his song. I cannot walk about and arrange with +the buds and gorse-bloom; how does he know it is the time for him +to sing? Without my book and pencil and observing eye, how does he +understand that the hour has come? To sing high in the air, to +chase his mate over the low stone wall of the ploughed field, to +battle with his high-crested rival, to balance himself on his +trembling wings outspread a few yards above the earth, and utter +that sweet little loving kiss, as it were, of song—oh, happy, +happy days! So beautiful to watch as if he were my own, and I felt +it all! It is years since I went out amongst them in the old +fields, and saw them in the green corn; they must be dead, dear +little things, by now. Without me to tell him, how does this lark +to-day that I hear through the window know it is his hour?</p> +<p>The green hawthorn buds prophesy on the hedge; the reed pushes +up in the moist earth like a spear thrust through a shield; the +eggs of the starling are laid in the knot-hole of the pollard +elm—common eggs, but within each a speck that is not to be +found in the cut diamond of two hundred carats—the dot of +protoplasm, the atom of life. There was one row of pollards where +they always began laying first. With a big stick in his beak the +rook is blown aside like a loose feather in the wind; he knows his +building-time from the fathers of his house—hereditary +knowledge handed down in settled course: but the stray things of +the hedge, how do they know? The great blackbird has planted his +nest by the ash-stole, open to every one's view, without a bough to +conceal it and not a leaf on the ash—nothing but the moss on +the lower end of the branches. He does not seek cunningly for +concealment. I think of the drift of time, and I see the apple +bloom coming and the blue veronica in the grass. A thousand +thousand buds and leaves and flowers and blades of grass, things to +note day by day, increasing so rapidly that no pencil can put them +down and no book hold them, not even to number them—and how +to write the thoughts they give? All these without me—how can +they manage without me?</p> +<p>For they were so much to me, I had come to feel that I was as +much in return to them. The old, old error: I love the earth, +therefore the earth loves me—I am her child—I am Man, +the favoured of all creatures. I am the centre, and all for me was +made.</p> +<p>In time past, strong of foot, I walked gaily up the noble hill +that leads to Beachy Head from Eastbourne, joying greatly in the +sun and the wind. Every step crumbled up numbers of minute grey +shells, empty and dry, that crunched under foot like hoar-frost or +fragile beads. They were very pretty; it was a shame to crush +them—such vases as no king's pottery could make. They lay by +millions in the depths of the sward, and I thought as I broke them +unwillingly that each of these had once been a house of life. A +living creature dwelt in each and felt the joy of existence, and +was to itself all in all—as if the great sun over the hill +shone for it, and the width of the earth under was for it, and the +grass and plants put on purpose for it. They were dead, the whole +race of them, and these their skeletons were as dust under my feet. +Nature sets no value upon life neither of minute hill-snail nor of +human being.</p> +<p>I thought myself so much to the earliest leaf and the first +meadow orchis—so important that I should note the first +zee-zee of the titlark—that I should pronounce it summer, +because now the oaks were green; I must not miss a day nor an hour +in the fields lest something should escape me. How beautiful the +droop of the great brome-grass by the wood! But to-day I have to +listen to the lark's song—not out of doors with him, but +through the window-pane, and the bullfinch carries the rootlet +fibre to his nest without me. They manage without me very well; +they know their times and seasons—not only the civilised +rooks, with their libraries of knowledge in their old nests of +reference, but the stray things of the hedge and the chiffchaff +from over sea in the ash wood. They go on without me. Orchis flower +and cowslip—I cannot number them all—I hear, as it +were, the patter of their feet—flower and bud and the +beautiful clouds that go over, with the sweet rush of rain and +burst of sun glory among the leafy trees. They go on, and I am no +more than the least of the empty shells that strewed the sward of +the hill. Nature sets no value upon life, neither of mine nor of +the larks that sang years ago. The earth is all in all to me, but I +am nothing to the earth: it is bitter to know this before you are +dead. These delicious violets are sweet for themselves; they were +not shaped and coloured and gifted with that exquisite proportion +and adjustment of odour and hue for me. High up against the grey +cloud I hear the lark through the window singing, and each note +falls into my heart like a knife.</p> +<p>Now this to me speaks as the roll of thunder that cannot be +denied—you must hear it; and how can you shut your ears to +what this lark sings, this violet tells, this little grey shell +writes in the curl of its spire? The bitter truth that human life +is no more to the universe than that of the unnoticed hill-snail in +the grass should make us think more and more highly of ourselves as +human—as men—living things that think. We must look to +ourselves to help ourselves. We must think ourselves into an +earthly immortality. By day and by night, by years and by +centuries, still striving, studying, searching to find that which +shall enable us to live a fuller life upon the earth—to have +a wider grasp upon its violets and loveliness, a deeper draught of +the sweet-briar wind. Because my heart beats feebly to-day, my +trickling pulse scarcely notating the passing of the time, so much +the more do I hope that those to come in future years may see wider +and enjoy fuller than I have done; and so much the more gladly +would I do all that I could to enlarge the life that shall be then. +There is no hope on the old lines—they are dead, like the +empty shells; from the sweet delicious violets think out fresh +petals of thought and colours, as it were, of soul.</p> +<p>Never was such a worshipper of earth. The commonest pebble, +dusty and marked with the stain of the ground, seems to me so +wonderful; my mind works round it till it becomes the sun and +centre of a system of thought and feeling. Sometimes moving aside +the tufts of grass with careless fingers while resting on the +sward, I found these little pebble-stones loose in the crumbly +earth among the rootlets. Then, brought out from the shadow, the +sunlight shone and glistened on the particles of sand that adhered +to it. Particles adhered to my skin—thousands of years +between finger and thumb, these atoms of quartz, and sunlight +shining all that time, and flowers blooming and life glowing in +all, myriads of living things, from the cold still limpet on the +rock to the burning, throbbing heart of man. Sometimes I found them +among the sand of the heath, the sea of golden brown surging up +yellow billows six feet high about me, where the dry lizard hid, or +basked, of kin, too, to old time. Or the rush of the sea wave +brought them to me, wet and gleaming, up from the depths of what +unknown Past? where they nestled in the root crevices of trees +forgotten before Egypt. The living mind opposite the dead +pebble—did you ever consider the strange and wonderful +problem there? Only the thickness of the skin of the hand between +them. The chief use of matter is to demonstrate to us the existence +of the soul. The pebble-stone tells me I am a soul because I am not +that that touches the nerves of my hand. We are distinctly two, +utterly separate, and shall never come together. The little pebble +and the great sun overhead—millions of miles away: yet is the +great sun no more distinct and apart than this which I can touch. +Dull-surfaced matter, like a polished mirror, reflects back thought +to thought's self within.</p> +<p>I listened to the sweet-briar wind this morning; but for weeks +and weeks the stark black oaks stood straight out of the snow as +masts of ships with furled sails frozen and ice-bound in the haven +of the deep valley. Each was visible to the foot, set in the white +slope, made individual in the wood by the brilliance of the +background. Never was such a long winter. For fully two months they +stood in the snow in black armour of iron bark unshaken, the front +rank of the forest army that would not yield to the northern +invader. Snow in broad flakes, snow in semi-flakes, snow raining +down in frozen specks, whirling and twisting in fury, ice raining +in small shot of frost, howling, sleeting, groaning; the ground +like iron, the sky black and faintly yellow—brutal colours of +despotism—heaven striking with clenched fist. When at last +the general surface cleared, still there remained the trenches and +traverses of the enemy, his ramparts drifted high, and his roads +marked with snow. The black firs on the ridge stood out against the +frozen clouds, still and hard; the slopes of leafless larches +seemed withered and brown; the distant plain far down gloomy with +the same dull yellowish blackness. At a height of seven hundred +feet the air was sharp as a scythe—a rude barbarian giant +wind knocking at the walls of the house with a vast club, so that +we crept sideways even to the windows to look out upon the world. +There was everything to repel—the cold, the frost, the +hardness, the snow, dark sky and ground, leaflessness; the very +furze chilled and all benumbed. Yet the forest was still beautiful. +There was no day that we did not, all of us, glance out at it and +admire it, and say something about it. Harder and harder grew the +frost, yet still the forest-clad hills possessed a something that +drew the mind open to their largeness and grandeur. Earth is always +beautiful—always. Without colour, or leaf, or sunshine, or +song of bird and flutter of butterfly's wing; without anything +sensuous, without advantage or gilding of summer—the power is +ever there. Or shall we not say that the desire of the mind is ever +there, and <i>will</i> satisfy itself, in a measure at least, even +with the barren wild? The heart from the moment of its first beat +instinctively longs for the beautiful; the means we possess to +gratify it are limited—we are always trying to find the +statue in the rude block. Out of the vast block of the earth the +mind endeavours to carve itself loveliness, nobility, and grandeur. +We strive for the right and the true: it is circumstance that +thrusts wrong upon us.</p> +<p>One morning a labouring man came to the door with a spade, and +asked if he could dig the garden, or try to, at the risk of +breaking the tool in the ground. He was starving; he had had no +work for two months; it was just six months, he said, since the +first frost started the winter. Nature and the earth and the gods +did not trouble about <i>him</i>, you see; he might grub the +rock-frost ground with his hands if he chose—the yellowish +black sky did not care. Nothing for man! The only good he found was +in his fellow-men; they fed him after a fashion—still they +fed him. There was no good in anything else. Another aged man came +once a week regularly; white as the snow through which he walked. +In summer he worked; since the winter began he had had no +employment, but supported himself by going round to the farms in +rotation. They all gave him a trifle—bread and cheese, a +penny, a slice of meat—something; and so he lived, and slept +the whole of that time in outhouses wherever he could. He had no +home of any kind. Why did he not go into the workhouse? 'I be +afeared if I goes in there they'll put me with the rough uns, and +very likely I should get some of my clothes stole.' Rather than go +into the workhouse he would totter round in the face of the blasts +that might cover his weak old limbs with drift. There was a sense +of dignity and manhood left still; his clothes were worn, but clean +and decent; he was no companion of rogues; the snow and frost, the +straw of the outhouses, was better than that. He was struggling +against age, against nature, against circumstance; the entire +weight of society, law, and order pressed upon him to force him to +lose his self-respect and liberty. He would rather risk his life in +the snowdrift. Nature, earth, and the gods did not help him; sun +and stars, where were they? He knocked at the doors of the farms +and found good in man only—not in Law or Order, but in +individual man alone.</p> +<p>The bitter north wind drives even the wild fieldfare to the +berries in the garden hedge; so it drives stray human creatures to +the door. A third came—an old gipsy woman—still stout +and hearty, with green fresh brooms to sell. We bought some +brooms—one of them was left on the kitchen floor, and the +tame rabbit nibbled it; it proved to be heather. The true broom is +as green and succulent in appearance in January as June. She would +see the 'missis.' 'Bless you, my good lady, it be weather, bean't +it? I hopes you'll never know what it be to want, my good lady. Ah, +well, you looks good-tempered if you don't want to buy nothing. Do +you see if you can't find me an old body, now, for my +girl—now do'ee try; she's confined in a tent on the +common—nothing but one of our tents, my good +lady—that's true—and she's doing jest about well' (with +briskness and an air of triumph), 'that she is! She's got twins, +you see, my lady, but she's all right, and as well as can be. She +wants to get up; and she says to me, "Mother, do'ee try and get me +a body; 'tis hard to lie here abed and be well enough to get up, +and be obliged to stay here because I've got nothing but a +bedgown." For you see, my good lady, we managed pretty well with +the first baby; but the second bothered us, and we cut up all the +bits of things we could find, and there she ain't got nothing to +put on. Do'ee see if 'ee can't find her an old body.' The common is +an open piece of furze and heath at the verge of the forest; and +here, in a tent just large enough to creep in, the gipsy woman had +borne twins in the midst of the snow and frost. They could not make +a fire of the heath and gorse even if they cut it, the snow and +whirling winds would not permit. The old gipsy said if they had +little food they could not do without fire, and they were compelled +to get coke and coal somehow—apologising for such a luxury. +There was no whining—not a bit of it; they were evidently +quite contented and happy, and the old woman proud of her +daughter's hardihood. By-and-by the husband came round with straw +beehives to sell, and cane to mend chairs—a strong, +respectable-looking man. Of all the north wind drove to the door, +the outcasts were the best off—much better off than the +cottager who was willing to break his spade to earn a shilling; +much better off than the white-haired labourer, whose strength was +spent, and who had not even a friend to watch with him in the dark +hours of the winter evening—not even a fire to rest by. The +gipsy nearest to the earth was the best off in every way; yet not +even for primitive man and woman did the winds cease. Broad flakes +of snow drifted up against the low tent, beneath which the babes +were nestling to the breast. Not even for the babes did the snow +cease or the keen wind rest; the very fire could scarcely struggle +against it. Snow-rain and ice-rain; frost-formed snow-granules, +driven along like shot, stinging and rattling against the +tent-cloth, hissing in the fire; roar and groan of the great wind +among the oaks of the forest. No kindness to man, from birth-hour +to ending; neither earth, sky, nor gods care for him, innocent at +the mother's breast. Nothing good to man but man. Let man, then, +leave his gods and lift up his ideal beyond them.</p> +<p>Something grey and spotted and puffy, not unlike a toad, moved +about under the gorse of the garden hedge one morning, half hidden +by the stalks of old grasses. By-and-by it hopped out—the +last thrush, so distended with puffed feathers against the frost as +to be almost shapeless. He searched about hopelessly round the +stones and in the nooks, all hard and frostbound; there was the +shell of a snail, dry and whitened and empty, as was apparent +enough even at a distance. His keen eye must have told him that it +was empty; yet such was his hunger and despair that he took it and +dashed it to pieces against a stone. Like a human being, his +imagination was stronger than his experience; he tried to persuade +himself that there might be something there; hoping against hope. +Mind, you see, working in the bird's brain, and overlooking facts. +A mere mechanism would have left the empty and useless shell +untouched—would have accepted facts at once, however bitter, +just as the balance on the heaviest side declines immediately, +obeying the fact of an extra grain of weight. The bird's brain was +not mechanical, and therefore he was not wholly mastered by +experience. It was a purely human action—just what we do +ourselves. Next he came across to the door to see if a stray berry +still remained on a creeper. He saw me at the window, and he came +to the window—right to it—and stopped and looked full +at me some minutes, within touch almost, saying as plainly as could +be said, 'I am starving—help me.' I never before knew a +thrush make so unmistakable an appeal for assistance, or +deliberately approach so near (unless previously encouraged). We +tried to feed him, but we fear little of the food reached him. The +wonder of the incident was that a thrush should still be +left—there had not been one in the garden for two months. +Berries all gone, ground hard and foodless, streams frozen, snow +lying for weeks, frost stealing away the vital heat—ingenuity +could not devise a more terrible scene of torture to the birds. +Neither for the thrushes nor for the new-born infants in the tent +did the onslaught of the winter slacken. No pity in earth or +heaven. This one thrush did, indeed, by some exceptional fortune, +survive; but where were the family of thrushes that had sung so +sweetly in the rainy autumn? Where were the blackbirds?</p> +<p>Looking down from the stilts of seven hundred feet into the deep +coombe of black oaks standing in the white snow, day by day, built +round about with the rugged mound of the hills, doubly locked with +the key of frost—it seemed to me to take on itself the +actuality of the ancient faith of the Magi. How the seeds of all +living things—the germs—of bird and animal, man and +insect, tree and herb, of the whole earth—were gathered +together into a four-square rampart, and there laid to sleep in +safety, shielded by a spell-bound fortification against the coming +flood, not of water, but of frost and snow! With snow and frost and +winter the earth was overcome, and the world perished, stricken +dumb and dead, swept clean and utterly destroyed—a winter of +the gods, the silence of snow and universal death. All that had +been passed away, and the earth was depopulated. Death triumphed. +But under the snow, behind the charmed rampart, slept the living +germs. Down in the deep coombe, where the dark oaks stood out +individually in the whiteness of the snow, fortified round about +with immovable hills, there was the actual presentment of +Zoroaster's sacred story. Locked in sleep lay bud and +germ—the butterflies of next summer were there somewhere, +under the snow. The earth was swept of its inhabitants, but the +seeds of life were not dead. Near by were the tents of the +gipsies—an Eastern race, whose forefathers perhaps had seen +that very Magian worship of the Light; and in those tents birth had +already taken place. Under the Night of winter—under the +power of dark Ahriman, the evil spirit of Destruction—lay bud +and germ in bondage, waiting for the coming of Ormuzd, the Sun of +Light and Summer. Beneath the snow, and in the frozen crevices of +the trees, in the chinks of the earth, sealed up by the signet of +frost, were the seeds of the life that would replenish the air in +time to come. The buzzing crowds of summer were still under the +snow.</p> +<p>This forest land is marked by the myriads of insects that roam +about it in the days of sunshine. Of all the million million +heathbells—multiply them again by a million million +more—that purple the acres of rolling hills, mile upon mile, +there is not one that is not daily visited by these flying +creatures. Countless and incalculable hosts of the yellow-barred +hover-flies come to them; the heath and common, the moor and +forest, the hedgerow and copse, are full of insects. They rise +under foot, they rise from the spray brushed by your arm as you +pass, they settle down in front of you—a rain of insects, a +coloured shower. Legion is a little word for the butterflies; the +dry pastures among the woods are brown with meadow-brown; blues and +coppers float in endless succession; all the nations of Xerxes' +army were but a handful to these. In their millions they have +perished; but somewhere, coiled up, as it were, and sealed under +the snow, there must have been the mothers and germs of the equally +vast crowds that will fill the atmosphere this year. The great +bumble-bee that shall be mother of hundreds, the yellow wasp that +shall be mother of thousands, were hidden there somewhere. The food +of the migrant birds that are coming from over sea was there +dormant under the snow. Many nations have a tradition of a former +world destroyed by a deluge of water, from the East to the West, +from Greece to Mexico, where the tail of a comet was said to have +caused the flood; but in the strange characters of the Zend is the +legend of an ark (as it were) prepared against the snow. It may be +that it is the dim memory of a glacial epoch. In this deep coombe, +amid the dark oaks and snow, was the fable of Zoroaster. For the +coming of Ormuzd, the Light and Life Bringer, the leaf slept +folded, the butterfly was hidden, the germ concealed, while the sun +swept upwards towards Aries.</p> +<p>There is nothing so wearying as a long frost—the endless +monotony, which makes one think that the very fault we usually find +with our climate—its changeableness—is in reality its +best quality. Rain, mist, gales—anything; give us anything +but weary, weary frost. But having once fixed its mind, the weather +will not listen to the usual signs of alteration.</p> +<p>The larks sang at last high up against the grey cloud over the +frost-bound earth. They could not wait longer; love was strong in +their little hearts—stronger than the winter. After a while +the hedge-sparrows, too, began to sing on the top of the +gorse-hedge about the garden. By-and-by a chaffinch boldly raised +his voice, ending with the old story, 'Sweet, will you, will you +kiss—me—dear?' Then there came a hoar-frost, and the +earth, which had been black, became white, as its evaporated +vapours began to gather and drops of rain to fall. Even then the +obstinate weather refused to quite yield, wrapping its cloak, as it +were, around it in bitter enmity. But in a day or two white clouds +lit up with sunshine appeared drifting over from the southward, and +that was the end. The old pensioner came to the door for his bread +and cheese: 'The wind's in the south' he said, 'and I hopes she'll +stay there' Five dull yellow spots on the hedge—gorse +bloom—that had remained unchanged for so many weeks, took a +fresh colour and became golden. By the constant passing of the +waggons and carts along the road that had been so silent it was +evident that the busy time of spring was here. There would be rough +weather, doubtless, now and again, but it would not again be +winter.</p> +<p>Dark patches of cloud—spots of ink on the sky, the +'messengers'—go drifting by; and after them will follow the +water-carriers, harnessed to the south and west winds, drilling the +long rows of rain like seed into the earth. After a time there will +be a rainbow. Through the bars of my prison I can see the catkins +thick and sallow-grey on the willows across the field, visible even +at that distance; so great the change in a few days, the hand of +spring grows firm and takes a strong grasp of the hedges. My prison +bars are but a sixteenth of an inch thick; I could snap them with a +fillip—only the window-pane, to me as impenetrable as the +twenty-foot wall of the Tower of London. A cart has just gone past +bearing a strange load among the carts of spring; they are talking +of poling the hops. In it there sat an old man, with the fixed +stare, the animal-like eye, of extreme age; he is over ninety. +About him there were some few chairs and articles of furniture, and +he was propped against a bed. He was being moved—literally +carted—to another house, not home, and he said he could not +go without his bed; he had slept on it for seventy-three years. +Last Sunday his son—himself old—was carted to the +churchyard, as is the country custom, in an open van; to-day the +father, still living, goes to what will be to him a strange land. +His home is broken up—he will potter no more with maize for +the chicken; the gorse hedges will become solid walls of golden +bloom, but there will never again be a spring for him. It is very +hard, is it not, at ninety? It is not the tyranny of any one that +has done it; it is the tyranny of circumstance, the lot of man. The +song of the Greeks is full of sorrow; man was to them the creature +of grief, yet theirs was the land of violets and pellucid air. This +has been a land of frost and snow, and here too, it is the same. A +stranger, I see, is already digging the old man's garden.</p> +<p>How happy the trees must be to hear the song of birds again in +their branches! After the silence and the leaflessness, to have the +birds back once more and to feel them busy at the nest-building; +how glad to give them the moss and fibres and the crutch of the +boughs to build in! Pleasant it is now to watch the sunlit clouds +sailing onwards; it is like sitting by the sea. There is voyaging +to and fro of birds; the strong wood-pigeon goes over—a long +course in the air, from hill to distant copse; a blackbird starts +from an ash, and, now inclining this way and now that, traverses +the meadows to the thick corner hedge; finches go by, and the air +is full of larks that sing without ceasing. The touch of the wind, +the moisture of the dew, the sun-stained raindrop, have in them the +magic force of life—a marvellous something that was not there +before. Under it the narrow blade of grass comes up freshly green +between the old white fibres the rook pulled; the sycamore bud +swells and opens, and takes the eye instantly in the still dark +wood; the starlings go to the hollow pollards; the lambs leap in +the mead. You never know what a day may bring forth—what new +thing will come next. Yesterday I saw the ploughman and his team, +and the earth gleam smoothed behind the share; to-day a butterfly +has gone past; the farm-folk are bringing home the fagots from the +hedgerows; to-morrow there will be a merry, merry note in the ash +copse, the chiffchaffs' ringing call to arms, to arms, ye leaves! +By-and-by a bennet, a bloom of the grass; in time to come the +furrow, as it were, shall open, and the great buttercup of the +waters will show a broad palm of gold. You never know what will +come to the net of the eye next—a bud, a flower, a nest, a +curled fern, or whether it will be in the woodland or by the meadow +path, at the water's side or on the dead dry heap of fagots. There +is no settled succession, no fixed and formal order—always +the unexpected; and you cannot say, 'I will go and find this or +that.' The sowing of life in the spring time is not in the set +straight line of the drill, nor shall you find wild flowers by a +foot measure. There are great woods without a lily of the valley; +the nightingale does not sing everywhere. Nature has no +arrangement, no plan, nothing judicious even; the walnut trees +bring forth their tender buds, and the frost burns them—they +have no mosaic of time to fit in, like a Roman tesselated pavement; +nature is like a child, who will sing and shout though you may be +never so deeply pondering in the study, and does not wait for the +hour that suits your mind. You do not know what you may find each +day; perhaps you may only pick up a fallen feather, but it is +beautiful, every filament. Always beautiful! everything beautiful! +And are these things new—the ploughman and his team, the +lark's song the green leaf? Can they be new? Surely they have been +of old time! They are, indeed, new—the only things that are +so; the rest is old and grey, and a weariness.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="2">NATURE AND BOOKS.</a></h3> +<p>What is the colour of the dandelion? There are many dandelions: +that which I mean flowers in May, when the meadow-grass has started +and the hares are busy by daylight. That which flowers very early +in the year has a thickness of hue, and is not interesting; in +autumn the dandelions quite change their colour and are pale. The +right dandelion for this question is the one that comes about May +with a very broad disc, and in such quantities as often to cover a +whole meadow. I used to admire them very much in the fields by +Surbiton (strong clay soil), and also on the towing-path of the +Thames where the sward is very broad, opposite Long Ditton; indeed, +I have often walked up that towing-path on a beautiful sunny +morning, when all was quiet except the nightingales in the Palace +hedge, on purpose to admire them. I dare say they are all gone now +for evermore; still, it is a pleasure to look back on anything +beautiful. What colour is this dandelion? It is not yellow, nor +orange, nor gold; put a sovereign on it and see the difference. +They say the gipsies call it the Queen's great hairy +dog-flower—a number of words to one stalk; and so, to get a +colour to it, you may call it the yellow-gold-orange plant. In the +winter, on the black mud under a dark, dripping tree, I found a +piece of orange peel, lately dropped—a bright red orange +speck in the middle of the blackness. It looked very beautiful, and +instantly recalled to my mind the great dandelion discs in the +sunshine of summer. Yet certainly they are not red-orange. Perhaps, +if ten people answered this question, they would each give +different answers. Again, a bright day or a cloudy, the presence of +a slight haze, or the juxtaposition of other colours, alters it +very much; for the dandelion is not a glazed colour, like the +buttercup, but sensitive. It is like a sponge, and adds to its own +hue that which is passing, sucking it up.</p> +<p>The shadows of the trees in the wood, why are they blue? Ought +they not to be dark? Is it really blue, or an illusion? And what is +their colour when you see the shadow of a tall trunk aslant in the +air like a leaning pillar? The fallen brown leaves wet with dew +have a different brown from those that are dry, and the upper +surface of the green growing leaf is different from the under +surface. The yellow butterfly, if you meet one in October, has so +toned down his spring yellow that you might fancy him a pale green +leaf floating along the road. There is a shining, quivering, +gleaming; there is a changing, fluttering, shifting; there is a +mixing, weaving—varnished wings, translucent wings, wings +with dots and veins, all playing over the purple heath; a very +tangle of many-toned lights and hues. Then come the apples: if you +look upon them from an upper window, so as to glance along the +level plane of the fruit, delicate streaks of scarlet, like those +that lie parallel to the eastern horizon before sunrise; golden +tints under bronze, and apple-green, and some that the wasps have +hollowed, more glowingly beautiful than the rest; sober leaves and +black and white swallows: to see it you must be high up, as if the +apples were strewn on a sward of foliage. So have I gone in three +steps from May dandelion to September apple; an immense space +measured by things beautiful, so filled that ten folio volumes +could not hold the description of them, and I have left out the +meadows, the brooks, and hills. Often in writing about these things +I have felt very earnestly my own incompetence to give the least +idea of their brilliancy and many-sided colours. My gamut was so +very limited in its terms, and would not give a note to one in a +thousand of those I saw. At last I said, I will have more words; I +will have more terms; I will have a book on colour, and I will find +and use the right technical name for each one of these lovely +tints. I was told that the very best book was by Chevreul, which +had tinted illustrations, chromatic scales, and all that could be +desired.</p> +<p>Quite true, all of it; but for me it contained nothing. There +was a good deal about assorted wools, but nothing about leaves; +nothing by which I could tell you the difference between the light +scarlet of one poppy and the deep purple-scarlet of another +species. The dandelion remained unexplained; as for the innumerable +other flowers, and wings, and sky-colours, they were not even +approached. The book, in short, dealt with the artificial and not +with nature. Next I went to science—works on optics, such a +mass of them. Some I had read in old time, and turned to again; +some I read for the first time, some translated from the German, +and so on. It appeared that, experimenting with physical colour, +tangible paint, they had found out that red, yellow, and blue were +the three primary colours; and then, experimenting with light +itself, with colours not tangible, they found out that red, green, +and violet were the three primary colours; but neither of these +would do for the dandelion. Once upon a time I had taken an +interest in spectrum analysis, and the theory of the polarisation +of light was fairly familiar; any number of books, but not what I +wanted to know. Next the idea occurred to me of buying all the +colours used in painting, and tinting as many pieces of paper a +separate hue, and so comparing these with petals, and wings, and +grass, and trifolium. This did not answer at all; my unskilful +hands made a very poor wash, and the yellow paper set by a yellow +petal did not agree, the scientific reason of which I cannot enter +into now. Secondly, the names attached to many of these paints are +unfamiliar to general readers; it is doubtful if bistre, Leitch's +blue, oxide of chromium, and so on, would convey an idea. They +might as well be Greek symbols: no use to attempt to describe hues +of heath or hill in that way. These, too, are only distinct +colours. What was to be done with all the shades and tones? Still +there remained the language of the studio; without doubt a master +of painting could be found who would quickly supply the technical +term of anything I liked to show him; but again no use, because it +would be technical. And a still more insurmountable difficulty +occurs: in so far as I have looked at pictures, it seems as if the +artists had met with the same obstacle in paints as I have in +words—that is to say, a deficiency. Either painting is +incompetent to express the extreme beauty of nature, or in some way +the canons of art forbid the attempt. Therefore I had to turn back, +throw down my books with a bang, and get me to a bit of fallen +timber in the open air to meditate.</p> +<p>Would it be possible to build up a fresh system of colour +language by means of natural objects? Could we say pine-wood green, +larch green, spruce green, wasp yellow, humble-bee amber? And there +are fungi that have marked tints, but the Latin names of these +agarics are not pleasant. Butterfly blue—but there are +several varieties; and this plan is interfered with by two things: +first, that almost every single item of nature, however minute, has +got a distinctly different colour, so that the dictionary of tints +would be immense; and next, so very few would know the object +itself that the colour attached to it would have no meaning. The +power of language has been gradually enlarging for a great length +of time, and I venture to say that the English language at the +present time can express more, and is more subtle, flexible, and, +at the same time, vigorous, than any of which we possess a record. +When people talk to me about studying Sanscrit, or Greek, or Latin, +or German, or, still more absurd, French, I feel as if I could fell +them with a mallet happily. Study the English, and you will find +everything there, I reply. With such a language I fully anticipate, +in years to come, a great development in the power of expressing +thoughts and feelings which are now thoughts and feelings only. How +many have said of the sea, ' It makes me feel something I cannot +say'! Hence it is clear there exists in the intellect a layer, if I +may so call it, of thought yet dumb—chambers within the mind +which require the key of new words to unlock. Whenever that is done +a fresh impetus is given to human progress. There are a million +books, and yet with all their aid I cannot tell you the colour of +the May dandelion. There are three greens at this moment in my +mind: that of the leaf of the flower-de-luce, that of the yellow +iris leaf, and that of the bayonet-like leaf of the common flag. +With admission to a million books, how am I to tell you the +difference between these tints? So many, many books, and such a +very, very little bit of nature in them! Though we have been so +many thousand years upon the earth we do not seem to have done any +more as yet than walk along beaten footpaths, and sometimes really +it would seem as if there were something in the minds of many men +quite artificial, quite distinct from the sun and trees and +hills—altogether house people, whose gods must be set in +four-cornered buildings. There is nothing in books that touches my +dandelion.</p> +<p>It grows, ah yes, it grows! How does it grow? Builds itself up +somehow of sugar and starch, and turns mud into bright colour and +dead earth into food for bees, and some day perhaps for you, and +knows when to shut its petals, and how to construct the brown seeds +to float with the wind, and how to please the children, and how to +puzzle me. Ingenious dandelion! If you find out that its correct +botanical name is <i>Leontodon taraxacum</i> or <i>Leontodon +dens-leonis</i>, that will bring it into botany; and there is a +place called Dandelion Castle in Kent, and a bell with the +inscription—</p> +<pre> + John de Dandelion with his great dog + Brought over this bell on a mill cog +</pre> +—which is about as relevant as the mere words <i>Leontodon +taraxacum</i>. Botany is the knowledge of plants according to the +accepted definition; naturally, therefore, when I began to think I +would like to know a little more of flowers than could be learned +by seeing them in the fields, I went to botany. Nothing could be +more simple. You buy a book which first of all tells you how to +recognise them, how to classify them; next instructs you in their +uses, medical or economical; next tells you about the folk-lore and +curious associations; next enters into a lucid explanation of the +physiology of the plant and its relation to other creatures; and +finally, and most important, supplies you with the ethical feeling, +the ideal aspiration to be identified with each particular flower. +One moderately thick volume would probably suffice for such a +modest round as this.<br> +<br> + +<p>Lo! now the labour of Hercules when he set about bringing up +Cerberus from below, and all the work done by Apollo in the years +when he ground corn, are but a little matter compared with the +attempt to master botany. Great minds have been at it these two +thousand years, and yet we are still only nibbling at the edge of +the leaf, as the ploughboys bite the young hawthorn in spring. The +mere classification—all plant-lore was a vast chaos till +there came the man of Sweden, the great Linnæus, till the +sexes were recognised, and everything was ruled out and set in +place again. A wonderful man! I think it would be true to say it +was Linnæus who set the world on its present twist of +thinking, and levered our mental globe a little more perpendicular +to the ecliptic. He actually gathered the dandelion and took it to +bits like a scientific child; he touched nature with his fingers +instead of sitting looking out of window—perhaps the first +man who had ever done so for seventeen hundred years or so, since +superstition blighted the progress of pagan Rome. The work he did! +But no one reads Linnæus now; the folios, indeed, might +moulder to dust without loss, because his spirit has got into the +minds of men, and the text is of little consequence. The best book +he wrote to read now is the delightful 'Tour in Lapland,' with its +quaint pen-and-ink sketches, so realistically vivid, as if the +thing sketched had been banged on the paper and so left its +impress. I have read it three times, and I still cherish the old +yellow pages; it is the best botanical book, written by the +greatest of botanists, specially sent on a botanical expedition, +and it contains nothing about botany. It tells you about the +canoes, and the hard cheese, and the Laplander's warehouse on top +of a pole, like a pigeon-house; and the innocent way in which the +maiden helped the traveller in his bath, and how the aged men ran +so fast that the devil could not catch them; and, best of all, +because it gives a smack in the face to modern pseudo-scientific +medical cant about hygiene, showing how the Laplanders break every +'law,' human and 'divine', ventilation, bath, and diet—all +the trash—and therefore enjoy the most excellent health, and +live to a great old age. Still I have not succeeded in describing +the immense labour there was in learning to distinguish plants on +the Linnæan system. Then comes in order of time the natural +system, the geographical distribution; then there is the geological +relationship, so to say, to Pliocene plants, natural selection and +evolution. Of that let us say nothing; let sleeping dogs lie, and +evolution is a very weary dog. Most charming, however, will be +found the later studies of naturalists on the interdependence of +flowers and insects; there is another work the dandelion has got to +do—endless, endless botany! Where did the plants come from at +first? Did they come creeping up out of the sea at the edge of the +estuaries, and gradually run their roots into the ground, and so +make green the earth? Did Man come out of the sea, as the Greeks +thought? There are so many ideas in plants. Flora, with a full lap, +scattering knowledge and flowers together; everything good and +sweet seems to come out of flowers, up to the very highest thoughts +of the soul, and we carry them daily to the very threshold of the +other world. Next you may try the microscope and its literature, +and find the crystals in the rhubarb.</p> +<p>I remember taking sly glances when I was a very little boy at an +old Culpepper's Herbal, heavily bound in leather and curiously +illustrated. It was so deliciously wicked to read about the +poisons; and I thought perhaps it was a book like that, only in +papyrus rolls, that was used by the sorceress who got ready the +poisoned mushrooms in old Rome. Youth's ideas are so imaginative, +and bring together things that are so widely separated. Conscience +told me I had no business to read about poisons; but there was a +fearful fascination in hemlock, and I recollect tasting a little +bit—it was very nasty. At this day, nevertheless, if any one +wishes to begin a pleasant, interesting, unscientific acquaintance +with English plants, he would do very well indeed to get a good +copy of Culpepper. Grey hairs had insisted in showing themselves in +my beard when, all those weary years afterwards, I thought I would +like to buy the still older Englishman, Gerard, who had no +Linnæus to guide him, who walked about our English lanes +centuries ago. What wonderful scenes he must have viewed when they +were all a tangle of wild flowers, and plants that are now scarce +were common, and the old ploughs, and the curious customs, and the +wild red-deer—it would make a good picture, it really would, +Gerard studying English orchids! Such a volume!—hundreds of +pages, yellow of course, close type, and marvellously well printed. +The minute care they must have taken in those early days of +printing to get up such a book—a wonderful volume both in +bodily shape and contents. Just then the only copy I could hear of +was much damaged. The cunning old bookseller said he could make it +up; but I have no fancy for patched books, they are not genuine; I +would rather have them deficient; and the price was rather long, +and so I went Gerardless. Of folk-lore and medicinal use and +history and associations here you have hints. The bottom of the +sack is not yet; there are the monographs, years of study expended +upon one species of plant growing in one locality, perhaps; some +made up into thick books and some into broad quarto pamphlets, with +most beautiful plates, that, if you were to see them, would tempt +you to cut them out and steal them, all sunk and lost like dead +ships under the sand: piles of monographs. There are warehouses in +London that are choked to the beams of the roof with them, and +every fresh exploration furnishes another shelf-load. The source of +the Nile was unknown a very few years ago, and now, I have no +doubt, there are dozens of monographs on the flowers that flourish +there. Indeed, there is not a thing that grows that may not furnish +a monograph. The author spends perhaps twenty years in collecting +his material, during which time he must of course come across a +great variety of amusing information, and then he spends another +ten years writing out a fair copy of his labours. Then he thinks it +does not quite do in that form, so he snips a paragraph out of the +beginning and puts it at the end; next he shifts some more matter +from the middle to the preface; then he thinks it over. It seems to +him that it is too big, it wants condensation. The scientific world +will say he has made too much of it; it ought to read very slight, +and present the facts while concealing the labour. So he sets about +removing the superfluous—leaves out all the personal +observations, and all the little adventures he has met with in his +investigations; and so, having got it down to the dry bones and +stones thereof and omitted all the mortar that stuck them together, +he sends for the engraver, and the next three years are occupied in +working up the illustrations. About this time some new discovery is +made by a foreign observer, which necessitates a complete revision +of the subject; and so having shifted the contents of the book +about hither and thither till he does not know which is the end and +which is the beginning, he pitches the much-mutilated copy into a +drawer and turns the key. Farewell, no more of this; his declining +days shall be spent in peace. A few months afterwards a work is +announced in Leipsic which 'really trenches on my favourite +subject, and really after spending a lifetime I can't stand it.' By +this time his handwriting has become so shaky he can hardly read it +himself, so he sends in despair for a lady who works a type-writer, +and with infinite patience she makes a clean manuscript of the +muddled mass. To the press at last, and the proofs come rapidly. +Such a relief! How joyfully easy a thing is when you set about it! +but by-and-by this won't do. Sub-section A ought to be in a +foot-note, family B is doubtful; and so the corrections grow and +run over the margin in a thin treble hand, till they approach the +bulk of the original book—a good profit for the printer; and +so after about forty years the monograph is published—the +work of a life is accomplished. Fifty copies are sent round to as +many public libraries and learned societies, and the rest of the +impression lies on the shelves till dust and time and spiders' webs +have buried it. Splendid work in it too. Looked back upon from +to-day with the key of modern thought, these monographs often +contain a whole chest of treasure. And still there are the +periodicals, a century of magazines and journals and reviews and +notices that have been coming out these hundred years and dropping +to the ground like dead leaves unnoticed. And then there are the +art works—books about shape and colour and ornament, and a +naturalist lately has been trying to see how the leaves of one tree +look fitted on the boughs of another. Boundless is the wealth of +Flora's lap; the ingenuity of man has been weaving wreaths out of +it for ages, and still the bottom of the sack is not yet. Nor have +we got much news of the dandelion. For I sit on the thrown timber +under the trees and meditate, and I want something more: I want the +soul of the flowers.</p> +<p>The bee and the butterfly take their pollen and their honey, and +the strange moths so curiously coloured, like the curious colouring +of the owls, come to them by night, and they turn towards the sun +and live their little day, and their petals fall, and where is the +soul when the body decays? I want the inner meaning and the +understanding of the wild flowers in the meadow. Why are they? What +end? What purpose? The plant knows, and sees, and feels; where is +its mind when the petal falls? Absorbed in the universal dynamic +force, or what? They make no shadow of pretence, these beautiful +flowers, of being beautiful for my sake, of bearing honey for me; +in short, there does not seem to be any kind of relationship +between us, and yet—as I said just now—language does +not express the dumb feelings of the mind any more than the flower +can speak. I want to know the soul of the flowers, but the word +soul does not in the smallest degree convey the meaning of my wish. +It is quite inadequate; I must hope that you will grasp the drift +of my meaning. All these life-laboured monographs, these +classifications, works of Linnæus, and our own classic +Darwin, microscope, physiology, and the flower has not given us its +message yet. There are a million books; there are no books: all the +books have to be written. What a field! A whole million of books +have got to be written. In this sense there are hardly a dozen of +them done, and these mere primers. The thoughts of man are like the +foraminifera, those minute shells which build up the solid chalk +hills and lay the level plain of endless sand; so minute that, save +with a powerful lens, you would never imagine the dust on your +fingers to be more than dust. The thoughts of man are like these: +each to him seems great in his day, but the ages roll, and they +shrink till they become triturated dust, and you might, as it were, +put a thousand on your thumb-nail. They are not shapeless dust for +all that; they are organic, and they build and weld and grow +together, till in the passage of time they will make a new earth +and a new life. So I think I may say there are no books; the books +are yet to be written.</p> +<p>Let us get a little alchemy out of the dandelions. They were not +precise, the Arabian sages, with their flowing robes and +handwriting; there was a large margin to their manuscripts, much +imagination. Therein they failed, judged by the monograph standard, +but gave a subtle food for the mind. Some of this I would fain see +now inspiring the works and words of our great men of science and +thought—a little alchemy. A great change is slowly going +forward all over the printing-press world, I mean wherever men +print books and papers. The Chinese are perhaps outside that world +at present, and the other Asian races; the myriads, too, of the +great southern islands and of Africa. The change is steadily, +however, proceeding wherever the printing-press is used. Nor Pope, +nor Kaiser, nor Czar, nor Sultan, nor fanatic monk, nor muezzin, +shouting in vain from his minaret, nor, most fanatic of all, the +fanatic shouting in vain in London, can keep it out—all +powerless against a bit of printed paper. Bits of printed paper +that listen to no command, to which none can say, 'Stand back; thou +shalt not enter.' They rise on the summer whirlwinds from the very +dust of the road, and float over the highest walls; they fall on +the well-kept lawns—monastery, prison, palace—there is +no fortress against a bit of printed paper. They penetrate where +even Danaë's gold cannot go. Our Darwins, our Lyalls, +Herschels, Faradays—all the immense army of those that go +down to nature with considering eye—are steadfastly +undermining and obliterating the superstitious past, literally +burying it under endless loads of accumulated facts; and the +printing-presses, like so many Argos, take these facts on their +voyage round the world. Over go temples, and minarets, and +churches, or rather there they stay, the hollow shells, like the +snail shells which thrushes have picked clean; there they stay like +Karnac, where there is no more incense, like the stone circles on +our own hills, where there are no more human sacrifices. Thus men's +minds all over the printing-press world are unlearning the +falsehoods that have bound them down so long; they are unlearning, +the first step to learn. They are going down to nature and taking +up the clods with their own hands, and so coming to have touch of +that which is real. As yet we are in the fact stage; by-and-by we +shall come to the alchemy, and get the honey for the inner mind and +soul. I found, therefore, from the dandelion that there were no +books, and it came upon me, believe me, as a great surprise, for I +had lived quite certain that I was surrounded with them. It is +nothing but unlearning, I find now; five thousand books to +unlearn.</p> +<p>Then to unlearn the first ideas of history, of science, of +social institutions, to unlearn one's own life and purpose; to +unlearn the old mode of thought and way of arriving at things; to +take off peel after peel, and so get by degrees slowly towards the +truth—thus writing, as it were, a sort of floating book in +the mind, almost remaking the soul. It seems as if the chief value +of books is to give us something to unlearn. Sometimes I feel +indignant at the false views that were instilled into me in early +days, and then again I see that that very indignation gives me a +moral life. I hope in the days to come future thinkers will unlearn +us, and find ideas infinitely better. How marvellous it seems that +there should be found communities furnished with the printing-press +and fully convinced they are more intelligent than ants, and yet +deliberately refusing by a solid 'popular' vote to accept free +libraries! They look with scorn on the mediæval times, when +volumes were chained in the college library or to the desk at +church. Ignorant times those! A good thing it would be if only +three books were chained to a desk, open and free in every parish +throughout the kingdom now. So might the wish to unlearn be at last +started in the inert mind of the mass. Almost the only books left +to me to read, and not to unlearn very much, are my first +books—the graven classics of Greece and Rome, cut with a +stylus so deeply into the tablet they cannot be erased. Little of +the monograph or of classification, no bushel baskets full of +facts, no minute dissection of nature, no attempt to find the soul +under the scalpel. Thoughts which do not exactly deal with nature +direct in a mechanical way, as the chemist labels all his gums and +spices and earths in small boxes—I wonder if anybody at +Athens ever made a collection of the coleoptera? Yet in some way +they had got the spirit of the earth and sea, the soul of the sun. +This never dies; this I wish not to unlearn; this is ever fresh and +beautiful as a summer morning:—</p> +<pre> + Such the golden crocus, + Fair flower of early spring; the gopher white, + And fragrant thyme, and all the unsown beauty + Which in moist grounds the verdant meadows bear; + The ox-eye, the sweet-smelling flower of love, + The chalca, and the much-sung hyacinth, + And the low-growing violet, to which + Dark Proserpine a darker hue has given. +</pre> +They come nearest to our own violets and cowslips—the unsown +beauty of our meadows—to the hawthorn leaf and the high +pinewood. I can forget all else that I have read, but it is +difficult to forget these even when I will. I read them in English. +I had the usual Latin and Greek instruction, but I read them in +English deliberately. For the inflexion of the vowel I care +nothing; I prize the idea. Scholars may regard me with scorn. I +reply with equal scorn. I say that a great classic thought is +greater to an English mind in English words than in any other form, +and therein fits best to this our life and day. I read them in +English first, and intend to do so to the end. I do not know what +set me on these books, but I began them when about eighteen. The +first of all was Diogenes Laertius's 'Lives of the Philosophers.' +It was a happy choice; my good genius, I suppose, for you see I was +already fairly well read in modern science, and these old Greek +philosophies set me thinking backwards, unwinding and unlearning, +and getting at that eidolon which is not to be found in the +mechanical heavens of this age. I still read him. I still find new +things, quite new, because they are so very, very old, and quite +true; and with his help I seem in a measure to look back upon our +thoughts now as if I had projected myself a thousand years forward +in space. An imperfect book, say the critics. I do not know about +that; his short paragraphs and chapters in their imperfect state +convey more freshness to the mind than the thick, laboured volumes +in which modern scholarship professes to describe ancient +philosophy. I prefer the imperfect original records. Neither can I +read the ponderous volumes of modern history, which are nothing but +words. I prefer the incomplete and shattered chronicles themselves, +where the swords shine and the armour rings, and all is life though +but a broken frieze. Next came Plato (it took me a long time to +read Plato, and I have had to unlearn much of him) and Xenophon. +Socrates' dialectic method taught me how to write, or rather how to +put ideas in sequence. Sophocles, too; and last, that wonderful +encyclopædia of curious things, Athenæus. So that I +found, when the idea of the hundred best books came out, that +between seventy and eighty of them had been my companions almost +from boyhood, those lacking to complete the number being chiefly +ecclesiastical or Continental. Indeed, some years before the +hundred books were talked of, the idea had occurred to me of making +up a catalogue of books that could be bought for ten pounds. In an +article in the 'Pall Mall Gazette' on 'The Pigeons at the British +Museum' I said,' It seems as if all the books in the +world—really books—can be bought for 10<i>l</i>. Man's +whole thought is purchasable at that small price—for the +value of a watch, of a good dog.' The idea of making a 10<i>l</i>. +catalogue was in my mind—I did make a rough pencil +one—and I still think that a 10<i>l</i>. library is worth the +notice of the publishing world. My rough list did not contain a +hundred. These old books of nature and nature's mind ought to be +chained up, free for every man to read in every parish. These are +the only books I do not wish to unlearn, one item only excepted, +which I shall not here discuss. It is curious, too, that the Greek +philosophers, in the more rigid sense of science, anticipated most +of the drift of modern thought. Two chapters in Aristotle might +almost be printed without change as summaries of our present +natural science. For the facts of nature, of course, neither one +hundred books nor a 10<i>l</i>. library would be worth mentioning; +say five thousand, and having read those, then go to Kew, and spend +a year studying the specimens of wood only stored there, such a +little slice after all of the whole. You will then believe what I +have advanced, that there are no books as yet; they have got to be +written; and if we pursue the idea a little further, and consider +that these are all about the crude clods of life—for I often +feel what a very crude and clumsy clod I am—only of the +earth, a minute speck among one hundred millions of stars, how +shall we write what is <i>there</i>? It is only to be written by +the mind or soul, and that is why I strive so much to find what I +have called the alchemy of nature. Let us not be too entirely +mechanical, Baconian, and experimental only; let us let the soul +hope and dream and float on these oceans of accumulated facts, and +feel still greater aspiration than it has ever known since first a +flint was chipped before the glaciers. Man's mind is the most +important fact with which we are yet acquainted. Let us not turn +then against it and deny its existence with too many brazen +instruments, but remember these are but a means, and that the vast +lens of the Californian refractor is but glass—it is the +infinite speck upon which the ray of light will fall that is the +one great fact of the universe. By the mind, without instruments, +the Greeks anticipated almost all our thoughts; by-and-by, having +raised ourselves up upon these huge mounds of facts, we shall begin +to see still greater things; to do so we must look not at the mound +under foot, but at the starry horizon.<br> +<br> + +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="3">THE JULY GRASS.</a></h3> +<p>A July fly went sideways over the long grass. His wings made a +burr about him like a net, beating so fast they wrapped him round +with a cloud. Every now and then, as he flew over the trees of +grass, a taller one than common stopped him, and there he clung, +and then the eye had time to see the scarlet spots—the +loveliest colour—on his wings. The wind swung the bennet and +loosened his hold, and away he went again over the grasses, and not +one jot did he care if they were <i>Poa</i> or <i>Festuca</i>, or +<i>Bromus</i> or <i>Hordeum</i>, or any other name. Names were +nothing to him; all he had to do was to whirl his scarlet spots +about in the brilliant sun, rest when he liked, and go on again. I +wonder whether it is a joy to have bright scarlet spots, and to be +clad in the purple and gold of life; is the colour felt by the +creature that wears it? The rose, restful of a dewy morn before the +sunbeams have topped the garden wall, must feel a joy in its own +fragrance, and know the exquisite hue of its stained petals. The +rose sleeps in its beauty.</p> +<p>The fly whirls his scarlet-spotted wings about and splashes +himself with sunlight, like the children on the sands. He thinks +not of the grass and sun; he does not heed them at all—and +that is why he is so happy— any more than the barefoot +children ask why the sea is there, or why it does not quite dry up +when it ebbs. He is unconscious; he lives without thinking about +living; and if the sunshine were a hundred hours long, still it +would not be long enough. No, never enough of sun and sliding +shadows that come like a hand over the table to lovingly reach our +shoulder, never enough of the grass that smells sweet as a flower, +not if we could live years and years equal in number to the tides +that have ebbed and flowed counting backwards four years to every +day and night, backward still till we found out which came first, +the night or the day. The scarlet-dotted fly knows nothing of the +names of the grasses that grow here where the sward nears the sea, +and thinking of him I have decided not to wilfully seek to learn +any more of their names either. My big grass book I have left at +home, and the dust is settling on the gold of the binding. I have +picked a handful this morning of which I know nothing. I will sit +here on the turf and the scarlet-dotted flies shall pass over me, +as if I too were but a grass. I will not think, I will be +unconscious, I will live.</p> +<p>Listen! that was the low sound of a summer wavelet striking the +uncovered rock over there beneath in the green sea. All things that +are beautiful are found by chance, like everything that is good. +Here by me is a praying-rug, just wide enough to kneel on, of the +richest gold inwoven with crimson. All the Sultans of the East +never had such beauty as that to kneel on. It is, indeed, too +beautiful to kneel on, for the life in these golden flowers must +not be broken down even for that purpose. They must not be defaced, +not a stem bent; it is more reverent not to kneel on them, for this +carpet prays itself I will sit by it and let it pray for me. It is +so common, the bird's-foot lotus, it grows everywhere; yet if I +purposely searched for days I should not have found a plot like +this, so rich, so golden, so glowing with sunshine. You might pass +by it in one stride, yet it is worthy to be thought of for a week +and remembered for a year. Slender grasses, branched round about +with slenderer boughs, each tipped with pollen and rising in tiers +cone-shaped—too delicate to grow tall—cluster at the +base of the mound. They dare not grow tall or the wind would snap +them. A great grass, stout and thick, rises three feet by the +hedge, with a head another foot nearly, very green and strong and +bold, lifting itself right up to you; you must say, 'What a fine +grass!' Grasses whose awns succeed each other alternately; grasses +whose tops seem flattened; others drooping over the shorter blades +beneath; some that you can only find by parting the heavier growth +around them; hundreds and hundreds, thousands and thousands. The +kingly poppies on the dry summit of the mound take no heed of +these, the populace, their subjects so numerous they cannot be +numbered. A barren race they are, the proud poppies, lords of the +July field, taking no deep root, but raising up a brilliant blazon +of scarlet heraldry out of nothing. They are useless, they are +bitter, they are allied to sleep and poison and everlasting night; +yet they are forgiven because they are not commonplace. Nothing, no +abundance of them, can ever make the poppies commonplace. There is +genius in them, the genius of colour, and they are saved. Even when +they take the room of the corn we must admire them. The mighty +multitude of nations, the millions and millions of the grass +stretching away in intertangled ranks, through pasture and mead +from shore to shore, have no kinship with these their lords. The +ruler is always a foreigner. From England to China the native born +is no king; the poppies are the Normans of the field. One of these +on the mound is very beautiful, a width of petal, a clear silkiness +of colour three shades higher than the rest—it is almost dark +with scarlet. I wish I could do something more than gaze at all +this scarlet and gold and crimson and green, something more than +see it, not exactly to drink it or inhale it, but in some way to +make it part of me that I might live it.</p> +<p>The July grasses must be looked for in corners and +out-of-the-way places, and not in the broad acres—the scythe +has taken them there. By the wayside on the banks of the lane, near +the gateway—look, too, in uninteresting places behind +incomplete buildings on the mounds cast up from abandoned +foundations where speculation has been and gone. There weeds that +would not have found resting-place elsewhere grow unchecked, and +uncommon species and unusually large growths appear. Like +everything else that is looked for, they are found under unlikely +conditions. At the back of ponds, just inside the enclosure of +woods, angles of corn-fields, old quarries, that is where to find +grasses, or by the sea in the brackish marsh. Some of the finest of +them grow by the mere road-side; you may look for others up the +lanes in the deep ruts, look too inside the hollow trees by the +stream. In a morning you may easily garner together a great sheaf +of this harvest. Cut the larger stems aslant, like the reeds +imitated deep in old green glass. You must consider as you gather +them the height and slenderness of the stems, the droop and degree +of curve, the shape and colour of the panicle, the dusting of the +pollen, the motion and sway in the wind. The sheaf you may take +home with you, but the wind that was among it stays without.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="4">WINDS OF HEAVEN.</a></h3> +<p>The window rattled, the gate swung; a leaf rose, and the kitten +chased it, 'whoo-oo'—the faintest sound in the keyhole. I +looked up, and saw the feathers on a sparrow's breast ruffled for +an instant. It was quiet for some time; after a while it came again +with heavier purpose. The folded shutters shook; the latch of the +kitchen door rattled as if some one were lifting it and dropped it; +indefinite noises came from upstairs: there was a hand in the house +moving everything. Another pause. The kitten was curled up on the +window-ledge outside in the sunshine, just as the sleek cats curled +up in the warmth at Thebes of old Egypt five or six thousand years +ago; the sparrow was happy at the rose tree; a bee was happy on a +broad dandelion disc. 'Soo-hoo!'—a low whistle came through +the chink; a handful of rain was flung at the window; a great +shadow rushed up the valley and strode the house in an instant as +you would get over a stile. I put down my book and buttoned my +coat. Soo-hoo! the wind was here and the cloud—soo-hoo! +drawing out longer and more plaintive in the thin mouthpiece of the +chink. The cloud had no more rain in it, but it shut out the sun; +and all that afternoon and all that night the low plaint of the +wind continued in sorrowful hopelessness, and little sounds ran +about the floors and round the rooms.</p> +<p>Still soo-hoo all the next day and sunlessness, turning the +mind, through work and conversation, to pensive notes. At even the +edge of the cloud lifted over the forest hill westwards, and a +yellow glow, the great beacon fire of the sun, burned out, a +conflagration at the verge of the world. In the night, awaking +gently as one who is whispered to—listen! Ah! all the +orchestra is at work—the keyhole, the chink, and the chimney; +whoo-hooing in the keyhole, whistling shrill whew-w-w! in the +chink, moaning long and deep in the chimney. Over in the field the +row of pines was sighing; the wind lingered and clung to the close +foliage, and each needle of the million million leaflets drew its +tongue across the organ blast. A countless multitude of sighs made +one continued distant undertone to the wild roar of the gable close +at hand. Something seemed to be running with innumerable centipede +feet over the mouth of the chimney, for the long deep moan, as I +listened, resolved itself into a quick succession of touches, just +as you might play with your finger-tips, fifty times a second +tattooing on the hollow table. In the midst of the clangour the +hearing settled down to the sighing of the pines, which drew the +mind towards it, and soothed the senses to sleep.</p> +<p>Towards dawn, awake again—another change: the +battering-ram at work now against the walls. Swinging back, the +solid thickness of the wind came forward—crush! as the +iron-shod ram's head hanging from its chains rushed to the tower. +Crush! It sucked back again as if there had been a vacuum—a +moment's silence, and crush! Blow after blow—the floor +heaved; the walls were ready to come together—alternate +sucking back and heavy billowy advance. Crush! crush! Blow after +blow, heave and batter and hoist, as if it would tear the house up +by the roots. Forty miles that battering-ram wind had travelled +without so much as a bough to check it till it struck the house on +the hill. Thud! thud! as if it were iron and not air. I looked from +the window, and the bright morning star was shining—the sky +was full of the wind and the star. As light came, the thud, thud +sunk away, and nothing remained but the whoo-hoo-hoo of the keyhole +and the moan of the chimney. These did not leave us; for four days +and nights the whoo-hoo-hoo-whoo never ceased a moment. Whoo-hoo! +whoo! and this is the wind on the hill indoors.</p> +<p>Out of doors, sometimes in the morning, deep in the valley, over +the tree-tops of the forest, there stays a vapour, lit up within by +sunlight. A glory hovers over the oaks—a cloud of light +hundreds of feet thick, the air made visible by surcharge and +heaviness of sunbeams, pressed together till you can see them in +themselves and not reflected. The cloud slants down the sloping +wood, till in a moment it is gone, and the beams are now focussed +in the depth of the narrow valley. The mirror has been tilted, and +the glow has shifted; in a moment more it has vanished into space, +and the dream has gone from the wood. In the arms of the wind, vast +bundles of mist are borne against the hill; they widen and slip, +and lengthen, drawing out; the wind works quickly with moist +colours ready and a wide brush laying broadly. Colour comes up in +the wind; the thin mist disappears, drunk up in the grass and +trees, and the air is full of blue behind the vapour. Blue sky at +the far horizon—rich deep blue overhead—a dark-brown +blue deep yonder in the gorge among the trees. I feel a sense of +blue colour as I face the strong breeze; the vibration and blow of +its force answer to that hue, the sound of the swinging branches +and the rush—rush in the grass is azure in its note; it is +wind-blue, not the night-blue, or heaven-blue, a colour of air. To +see the colour of air it needs great space like this—a +vastness of concavity and hollow—an equal caldron of valley +and plain under, to the dome of the sky over, for no vessel of +earth and sky is too large for the air-colour to fill. Thirty, +forty, and more miles of eye-sweep, and beyond that the limitless +expanse over the sea—the thought of the eye knows no butt, +shooting on with stellar penetration into the unknown. In a small +space there seems a vacuum, and nothing between you and the hedge +opposite, or even across the valley; in a great space the void is +filled, and the wind touches the sight like a thing tangible. The +air becomes itself a cloud, and is coloured—recognised as a +thing suspended; something real exists between you and the horizon. +Now full of sun, and now of shade, the air-cloud rests in the +expanse.</p> +<p>It is summer, and the wind-birds top the furze; the bright +stonechat, velvet-black and red and white, sits on the highest +spray of the gorse, as if he were painted there. He is always in +the wind on the hill, from the hail of April to August's dry glow. +All the mile-long slope of the hill under me is purple-clad with +heath down to the tree-filled gorge where the green boughs seem to +join the purple. The corn-fields and the pastures of the +plain—count them one by one till the hedges and squares close +together and cannot be separated. The surface of the earth melts +away as if the eyes insensibly shut and grew dreamy in gazing, as +the soft clouds melt and lose their outline at the horizon. But +dwelling there, the glance slowly finds and fills out something +that interposes its existence between us and the further space. Too +shadowy for the substance of a cloud, too delicate for outline +against the sky, fainter than haze, something of which the eye has +consciousness, but cannot put into a word to itself. Something is +there. It is the air-cloud adhering like a summer garment to the +great downs by the sea. I cannot see the substance of the hills nor +their exact curve along the sky; all I can see is the air that has +thickened and taken to itself form about them. The atmosphere has +collected as the shadow collects in the distant corner of a +room—it is the shadow of the summer wind. At times it is so +soft, so little more than the air at hand, that I almost fancy I +can look through the solid boundary. There is no cloud so faint; +the great hills are but a thought at the horizon; I <i>think</i> +them there rather than see them; if I were not thinking of them, I +should scarce know there was even a haze, with so dainty a hand +does the atmosphere throw its covering over the massy downs. Riding +or passing quickly perhaps you would not observe them; but stay +among the heathbells, and the sketch appears in the south. Up from +the sea over the corn-fields, through the green boughs of the +forest, along the slope, comes a breath of wind, of honey-sweetened +air, made more delicate by the fanning of a thousand wings.</p> +<p>The labour of the wind: the cymbals of the aspen clashing, from +the lowest to the highest bough, each leaf twirling first forwards +and then backwards and swinging to and fro, a double motion. Each +lifts a little and falls back like a pendulum, twisting on itself; +and as it rises and sinks, strikes its fellow-leaf. Striking the +side of the dark pines, the wind changes their colour and turns +them paler. The oak leaves slide one over the other, hand above +hand, laying shadow upon shadow upon the white road. In the vast +net of the wide elm-tops the drifting shadow of the cloud which the +wind brings is caught for a moment. Pushing aside the stiff ranks +of the wheat with both arms, the air reaches the sun-parched earth. +It walks among the mowing-grass like a farmer feeling the crop with +his hand one side, and opening it with his walking-stick the other. +It rolls the wavelets carelessly as marbles to the shore; the red +cattle redden the pool and stand in their own colour. The green +caterpillar swings as he spins his thread and lengthens his cable +to the tide of air, descending from the tree; before he can slip it +the whitethroat takes him. With a thrust the wind hurls the swift +fifty miles faster on his way; it ruffles back the black velvet of +the mole peeping forth from his burrow. Apple bloom and crab-apple +bloom have been blown long since athwart the furrows over the +orchard wall; May petals and June roses scattered; the pollen and +the seeds of the meadow-grasses thrown on the threshing-floor of +earth in basketfuls. Thistle down and dandelion down, the brown +down of the goat's-beard; by-and-by the keys of the sycamores +twirling aslant—the wind carries them all on its back, +gossamer web and great heron's vanes—the same weight to the +wind; the drops of the waterfall blown aside sprinkle the bright +green ferns. The voice of the cuckoo in his season travels on the +zephyr, and the note comes to the most distant hill, and deep into +the deepest wood.</p> +<p>The light and fire of summer are made beautiful by the air, +without whose breath the glorious summer were all spoiled. Thick +are the hawthorn leaves, many deep on the spray; and beneath them +there is a twisted and intertangled winding in and out of boughs, +such as no curious ironwork of ancient artist could equal; through +the leaves and metal-work of boughs the soft west wind wanders at +its ease. Wild wasp and tutored bee sing sideways on their course +as the breeze fills their vanes; with broad coloured sails boomed +out, the butterfly drifts alee. Beside a brown coated stone in the +shadowed stream a brown trout watches for the puffs that slay the +May-flies. Their ephemeral wings were made for a more exquisite +life; they endure but one sun; they bear not the touch of the +water; they die like a dream dropping into the river. To the +amethyst in the deep ditch the wind comes; no petal so hidden under +green it cannot find; to the blue hill-flower up by the sky; it +lifts the guilty head of the passionate poppy that has sinned in +the sun for love. Sweet is the rain the wind brings to the +wallflower browned in the heat, a-dry on the crumbling stone. +Pleasant the sunbeams to the marigold when the wind has carried the +rain away and his sun-disc glows on the bank. Acres of perfume come +on the wind from the black and white of the bean-field; the firs +fill the air by the copse with perfume. I know nothing to which the +wind has not some happy use. Is there a grain of dust so small the +wind shall not find it out? Ground in the mill-wheel of the +centuries, the iron of the distant mountain floats like gossamer, +and is drunk up as dew by leaf and living lung. A thousand miles of +cloud go by from morn till night, passing overhead without a sound; +the immense packs, a mile square, succeed to each other, side by +side, laid parallel, book-shape, coming up from the horizon and +widening as they approach. From morn till night the silent +footfalls of the ponderous vapours travel overhead, no sound, no +creaking of the wheels and rattling of the chains; it is calm at +the earth, but the wind labours without an effort above, with such +case, with such power. Grey smoke hangs on the hill-side where the +couch-heaps are piled, a cumulus of smoke; the wind comes, and it +draws its length along like the genii from the earthen pot; there +leaps up a great red flame shaking its head; it shines in the +bright sunlight; you can see it across the valley.</p> +<p>A perfect summer day with a strong south wind; a cloudless blue +sky blown pale, a summer sun blown cool, deep draughts of +refreshing air to man and horse, clear definition of red-tile roof +and conical oast, perfect colour of soft ash-green trees. In the +evening, fourteen black swifts rushing together through the upper +atmosphere with shrill cries, sometimes aside and on the tip of one +wing, with a whirl descending, a black trail, to the tiled ridge +they dwell in. Fine weather after this.</p> +<p>A swooning August day, with a hot east wind, from which there is +no escape, which gives no air to the chest—you breathe and +are not satisfied with the inspiration; it does not fill; there is +no life in the killed atmosphere. It is a vacuum of heat, and yet +the strong hot wind bends the trees, and the tall firs wrestle with +it as they did with Sinis, the Pine-bender, bowed down and +rebounding as if they would whirl their cones away like a catapult. +Masses of air are moving by, and yet there is none to breathe. No +escape in the shadow of hedge or wood, or in the darkened room; +darkness excludes the heat that comes with light, but the heat of +the oven-wind cannot be shut out. Some monstrous dragon of the +Chinese sky pants his fiery breath upon us, and the brown grass +stalks threaten to catch flame in the field. The grain of wheat +that was full of juice dries hard in the ears, and water is no more +good for thirst. There is not a cloud in the sky; but at night +there is heavy rain, and the flowers are beaten down. There is a +thunder-wind that blows at intervals when great clouds are visibly +gathering over the hayfield. It is almost a calm; but from time to +time a breath comes, and a low mournful cry sounds in the hollow +farmhouse—the windows and doors are open, and the men and +women have gone out to make hasty help in the hay ere the +storm—a mournful cry in the hollow house, as unhappy a note +as if it were soaked February.</p> +<p>In April, six miles away in the valley, a vast cloud came down +with swan-shot of hail, black as blackest smoke, overwhelming house +and wood, all gone and mixed with the sky; and behind the mass +there followed a white cloud, sunlit, dragging along the ground +like a cumulus fallen to the earth. At sunset the sky cleared, and +under the glowing rim of the sun a golden wind drove the host of +vapour before it, scattering it to the right and left. Large pieces +caught and tore themselves in the trees of the forest, and one +curved fragment hurled from the ridge fell in the narrow coombe, +lit up as it came down with golden sunset rays, standing out bright +against the shadowed wood. Down it came slowly as it were with +outstretched arms, both to fall, carrying the coloured light of the +sky to the very surface of the earth.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="5">THE COUNTRY SUNDAY</a></h3> +. +<p>Roses bloomed on every bush, and some of the great hawthorns up +which the briars had climbed seemed all flowers. The white and +pink-white petals of the June roses adhered all over them, almost +as if they had been artificially gummed or papered on so as to hide +the leaves. Such a profusion of wild-rose bloom is rarely seen. On +the Sunday morning, as on a week-day morning, they were entirely +unnoticed, and might be said in their turn to take no heed of the +sanctified character of the day. With a rush like a sudden thought +the white-barred eave-swallows came down the arid road and rose +again into the air as easily as a man dives into the water. Dark +specks beneath the white summer clouds, the swifts, the black +albatross of our skies, moved on their unwearied wings. Like the +albatross that floats over the ocean and sleeps on the wing, the +swift's scimitar-like pinions are careless of repose. Once now and +then they came down to earth, not, as might be supposed, to the +mansion or the church tower, but to the low tiled roof of an +ancient cottage which they fancied for their home. Kings sometimes +affect to mix with their subjects; these birds that aspire to the +extreme height of the air frequently nest in the roof of a despised +tenement, inhabited by an old woman who never sees them. The corn +was green and tall, the hops looked well, the foxglove was +stirring, the delicious atmosphere of summer, sun-laden and +scented, filled the deep valleys; a morning of the richest beauty +and deepest repose. All things reposed but man, and man is so busy +with his vulgar aims that it quite dawns upon many people as a +wonderful surprise how still nature is on a Sunday morning. Nature +is absolutely still every day of the week, and proceeds with the +most absolute indifference to days and dates.</p> +<p>The sharp metallic clangour of a bell went bang, bang, bang, +from one roof; not far distant a harsher and deeper note—some +Tartar-like bell of universal uproar—hammered away. At +intervals came the distant chimes of three distinct village +churches—ding dong, dong ding, pango, frango, +jango—very much jango—bang, clatter, clash—a +humming vibration and dreadful stir. The country world was up in +arms, I was about to say—I mean in chimney-pot hat and +pomade, <i>en route</i> to its various creeds, some to one bell, +some to another, some to ding dong, and some to dong ding; but the +most of them directed their steps towards a silent chapel. This +great building, plain beyond plainness, stood beside a fir copse, +from which in the summer morning there floated an exquisite +fragrance of pine. If all the angles of the architects could have +been put together, nothing could have been designed more utterly +opposite to the graceful curve of the fir tree than this +red-bricked crass building. Bethel Chapel combined everything that +could be imagined contrary to the spirit of nature, which +undulates. The largest erection of the kind, it was evidently meant +for a large congregation.</p> +<p>Of all the people in this country there are none so devout as +the cottagers in the lanes and hamlets. They are as uncompromising +as the sectaries who smashed the images and trampled on the pride +of kings in the days of Charles I. The translation of the Bible cut +off Charles I.'s head by letting loose such a flood of iron-fisted +controversy, and to any one who has read the pamphlets of those +days the resemblance is constantly suggested. John Bunyan wrote +about the Pilgrim. To this chapel there came every Sunday morning a +man and his wife, ten miles on foot from their cottage home in a +distant village. The hottest summer day or the coldest winter +Sunday made no difference; they tramped through dust, and they +tramped through slush and mire; they were pilgrims every week. A +grimly real religion, as concrete and as much a fact as a stone +wall; a sort of horse's faith going along the furrow unquestioning. +In their own village there were many chapels, and at least one +church, but these did not suffice. The doctrine at Bethel was the +one saving doctrine, and there they went. There were dozens who +came from lesser distances quite as regularly, the men in their +black coats and high hats, big fellows that did not look ungainly +till they dressed themselves up; women as red as turkey-cocks, +panting and puffing; crowds of children making the road odorous +with the smell of pomade; the boys with their hair too long behind; +the girls with vile white stockings, all out of drawing, and +without a touch that could be construed into a national +costume—the cheap shoddy shop in the country lane. All with +an expression of Sunday goodness: 'To-day we are good, we are going +to chapel, and we mean to stay till the very last word. We have got +our wives and families with us, and woe be to any of them if they +dare to look for a bird's nest! This is business.' Besides the foot +people there come plenty in traps and pony-carriages, and some on +horseback, for a certain class of farmers belong to the same +persuasion, and there are well-to-do people in the crowd. It is the +cast of mind that makes the worshipper, not the worldly +position.</p> +<p>It is written, but perhaps it is not true, that in old +times—not very old times—the parish clergyman had a +legal right, by which every person in the parish was compelled to +appear once on a Sunday in the church. Those who did not come were +fined a shilling.</p> +<p>Now look at the Shillings this Sunday morning flowing of their +own freewill along the crooked lanes, and over the stiles, and +through the hops, and down the hill to the chapel which can offer +no bribe and can impose no fine.</p> +<p>Old women—wonder 'tis how they live on nothing a +day—still manage to keep a decent black dress and come to +chapel with a penny in their pockets in spite of their age and +infirmities. The nearest innkeeper, himself a most godly man, has +work enough to do to receive the horses and traps and +pony-carriages and stow them away before service begins, when he +will stride from the stable to the pew. Then begins the hollow and +flute-like modulation of a pitch-pipe within the great building. +One of the members of the congregation who is a musician is setting +the ears of the people to the tune of the hymn that is about to be +given forth. The verse is read, and then rises the full swell of +hundreds of voices; and while they sing let us think what a strange +thing the old pitch-pipe—no organ, no harmonium—what a +strange thing the whole scene is, with its Cromwellian air in the +midst of the modern fields.</p> +<p>This is a picture, and not a disputation: as to what they teach +or preach inside Bethel, it is nothing to me; this paper has not +the slightest theological bias.</p> +<p>You may tell when the service is nearly over by the stray boys +who steal out and round the walls to throw stones at the sparrows +in the roads; they need a little relaxation; nature gets even into +Bethel. By-and-by out come some bigger lads and tie two long +hop-poles together with which to poke down the swallows' nests +under the chapel eaves. The Book inside, of which they almost make +an idol, seemed to think the life of a sparrow—and possibly +of a swallow—was of value; still it is good fun to see the +callow young come down flop on the hard ground.</p> +<p>When the church doors are thrown open by the noiseless vergers, +and patchouli and macassar, and the overpowering, rich smell of +silks and satins rushes out in a volume of heated air, in a few +minutes the whole place is vacant. Bethel is not deserted in this +manner. All those who have come from a distance have brought with +them their dinner in a black bag or basket, and quietly settle +themselves down to take their dinner in the chapel. This practice +is not confined to the pilgrims who have walked a long way; very +many of those who live the other side of the village shut up their +cottages, bring their provisions, and spend the whole day at their +devotions. Now the old woman spends her Sunday penny. At the back +of the chapel there is a large room where a person is employed to +boil the kettle and supply cups of tea at a halfpenny each. Here +the old lady makes herself very comfortable, and waits till service +begins again. Halfpenny a cup would not, of course, pay the cost of +the materials, but these are found by some earnest member of the +body, some farmer or tradesman's wife, who feels it a good deed to +solace the weary worshippers. There is something in this primitive +hospitality, in this eating their dinners in the temple, and +general communion of humanity, which to a philosopher seems very +admirable. It seems better than incense and scarlet robes, unlit +candles behind the altar, and vacancy. Not long since a bishop +addressed a circular to the clergy of his diocese, lamenting in +solemn tones the unhappy position of the labourer in the village +churches. The bishop had observed with regret, with very great +regret, that the labourer seemed in the background. He sat in the +back seats behind the columns, and near the door where he could +hardly hear, and where he had none of the comfort of the stove in +winter. The bishop feared his position was cold and comfortless, +that he did not feel himself to be a member of the Church, that he +was outside the pale of its society. He exhorted the country clergy +to bring the labourer forward and make him more comfortable, to put +him in a better seat among the rest, where he would feel himself to +be really one of the congregation.</p> +<p>To those who have sat in country churches this circular read as +a piece of most refined sarcasm, so bitter because of its truth. +Where had been the clerical eye all these years that Hodge had sat +and coughed in the draughts by the door? Was it merely a +coincidence that the clerical eye was opened just at the moment +when Hodge became a voter?</p> +<p>At Bethel Chapel between the services the cottagers, the +farmers, and the tradesmen break their bread together, and +converse, and actually seem to recognise one another; they do not +turn their backs the instant the organ ceases and return each to +his house in proud isolation. There is no dining together, no +friendly cup of tea at the parish church. This Bethel is, you see, +the church of the poor people, most emphatically <i>their</i> +church. If the word church means not a building, but a society, +then this is the true country church. It is the society of all +those who, for want of a better expression, I may term the +humble-minded, those who have no aristocratic or exclusive tastes, +very simple in their reading and studies even if well-to-do, and +simple in their daily habits, rising early and retiring early, and +plebeian in their dinner-hour. It is a peculiar cast of mind that I +am trying to describe—a natural frame of mind; these are +'chapel people'—perhaps a phrase will convey the meaning +better than explanation. This is <i>their</i> church, and whatever +the theology may be there is undoubtedly a very strong bond of +union among them.</p> +<p>Not only the old women with their Sunday pennies, but great +numbers beside, young and old of both sexes, take their cup of tea, +for these people take tea with every meal, dinner and supper as +well as breakfast and five o'clock, and if they don't feel well +they will rise at two in the morning to get a cup of tea. They are +as Russian as the Russians in this particular; they have cheese on +the table, too, at every meal. The pastor has, meantime, been +entertained with a good dinner at some house adjacent, where he +goes every Sunday; by-and-by the flute begins to tune again, the +hymns resound, and the labour of the day is resumed. Somewhere +about four o'clock the summer-dusty roads are full again of the +returning pilgrims, and the crowd gradually sinks away by footpath +and stile. The black albatross is still wheeling in the upper +atmosphere, the white-barred swallow rushes along the road and +dives upwards, the unwearied roses are still opened to the sun's +rays, and calm, indifferent Nature has pursued her quiet course +without heed of pitch-pipe or organ, or bell or chalice. Perhaps if +you chance to be resting by a gate you may hear one of the cottage +women telling her children to let the ants alone and not tease +them, for 'thaay be God's creeturs.' Or possibly the pastor himself +may be overheard discoursing to a bullet-headed woman, with one +finger on the palm of his other hand, 'That's their serpentine way; +that's their subtlety; that's their casuistry; which arguments you +may imagine to refer, as your fancy pleases, to the village curate, +or the tonsured priest of the monastery over the hill. For the +tonsured priest, and the monastery, and the nunnery, and the mass, +and the Virgin Mary, have grown to be a very great power indeed in +English lanes. Between the Roman missal and the chapel hymn-book, +the country curate with his good old-fashioned litany is ground +very small indeed, and grows less and less between these millstones +till he approaches the vanishing-point. The Roman has the broad +acres, his patrons have given him the land; the chapel has the +common people, and the farmers are banding together not to pay +tithes. So that his whole soul may well go forth in the apostrophe, +'Good Lord, deliver us!'</p> +<p>There is no man so feasted as the chapel pastor. His tall and +yet rotund body and his broad red face might easily be mistaken for +the outward man of a sturdy farmer, and he likes his pipe and +glass. He dines every Sunday, and at least once a week besides, at +the house of one of his stoutest upholders. It is said that at such +a dinner, after a large plateful of black currant pudding, finding +there was still some juice left, he lifted the plate to his mouth +and carefully licked it all round; the hostess hastened to offer a +spoon, but he declined, thinking that was much the best way to +gather up the essence of the fruit. So simple were his manners, he +needed no spoon; and, indeed, if we look back, the apostles managed +without forks, and put their fingers in the dish. After dinner the +cognac bottle is produced, and the pastor fills his tumbler half +full of spirit, and but lightly dashes it with water. It is cognac +and not brandy, for your chapel minister thinks it an affront if +anything more common than the best French liquor is put before him; +he likes it strong, and with it his long clay pipe. Very frequently +another minister, sometimes two or three, come in at the same time, +and take the same dinner, and afterwards form a genial circle with +cognac and tobacco, when the room speedily becomes full of smoke +and the bottle of brandy soon disappears. In these family parties +there is not the least approach to over-conviviality; it is merely +the custom, no one thinks anything of a glass and a pipe; it is +perfectly innocent; it is not a local thing, but common and +understood. The consumption of brandy and tobacco and the good +things of dinner, tea, and supper (for the party generally sit out +the three meals), must in a month cost the host a good deal of +money, but all things are cheerfully borne for the good of the +church. Never were men feasted with such honest good-will as these +pastors; and if a budding Paul or Silas happens to come along who +has scarce yet passed his ordination, the youthful divine may stay +a week if he likes, and lick the platter clean. In fact, so +constant is this hospitality, that in certain houses it is +impossible to pay a visit at any time of the year without finding +one of these young brothers reposing amid the fat of the land, and +doubtless indulging in pleasant spiritual communion with the +daughters of the mansion. Something in this system of household +ministers of religion reminds one of the welcome and reverence said +to be extended in the East to the priests, who take up their +residence indefinitely, and are treated as visible incarnations of +the Deity whose appetites it is meritorious to satisfy. Indeed, +these young men, who have perhaps been trained as missionaries, +often discourse of Buddha with a very long and unctuous 'Boo.'</p> +<p>The ancient Roman censor who tried by laws and persuasions to +induce the inhabitants of Rome to marry, yet could not succeed in +inducing them to submit to what they considered a sacrifice for the +benefit of the state, would have been delighted with the marrying +tendencies of the chapel people. A venerable old gentleman—a +great pillar of the body—after the decease of his first wife +married her sister, and again, upon her removal, married his cook. +Another great prop—elderly indeed, but still upright and +iron-grey, a most powerfully made man, who always spoke as if his +words were indeed law—rule-of-thumb law—has married +three sisters in succession, and has had offspring by all. Their +exact degrees of consanguinity I cannot tell you, or whether they +call each other brothers and sisters, or cousins. This is certain, +however, that whether such marriages be legal or not, they are as +such regarded and as such accepted in every sense by the society to +which these gentlemen belong. Another gentleman now has his fourth +wife, and he, too, is a most strenuous believer, and not his +bitterest enemy can rake up the smallest accusation against his +character. He, too, is a strong and upright man, fully capable of +another wife if time should chance to bring it about. Now, the odd +part of it is that, having married four times, and each time in the +same village, where all the families are more or less connected, he +is more or less related to every single individual in the parish. +First, there are his own blood relations and his wives' blood +relations, and then there are their relations' relations, and next +his sons and daughters have married and introduced a fresh roll, +and I really do not think either he or anybody else knows exactly +where the list ends. This is nothing uncommon. Though clans and +tribes no longer settle under their respective chiefs in villages, +the families of the same name and blood still present a very close +representation of the clan system. They have all the tribal +relationship without any of its feeling. Instead of forming a +strong body and helping each other, these people seemed to detest +one another, and to lose no opportunity of snatching some little +advantage or telling some scandalous tale. In fact, this in-and-in +breeding seems one of the curses of village life, and a cause of +stagnation and narrowness of mind. This marrying and giving in +marriage is not singular to well-to-do leaders of chapel society, +but goes on with equal fervour among the lower members. The cottage +girls and cottage boys marry the instant they get a chance, and it +is not at all uncommon to find comparatively young labourers who +have had two wives. There is nothing in this to reproach: it is a +peculiarity of the cast of mind which I am endeavouring to +describe—a cast of mind perhaps not much marked by +sentimentality. Something in this practice reminds one of the +Mormons. Certainly the wives are not taken together, but they are +sealed as fast as circumstances permit. Something in it has a +Mormonite aspect to an observer, and perhaps the existence of this +cast of mind may assist in explaining the inexplicable growth of +that strange religion. Doubtless they would repudiate the +suggestion with loud outcries and indignation, for people are +always most vigorous in denouncing themselves unconsciously. These +numerous wives (who are quite willing), the marrying of sisters, +the primitive gatherings at the chapel, so like the religious camps +of the Far West, the general relationship, have a distinct flavour +of Salt Lake. Add to this the immense working power of these +pluralist giants, for you will generally find that the well-to-do +chapeller with his third wife, or more, is a man who has raised +himself from very much nothing to very much something. By sheer +force of labour and push he has lifted himself head and shoulders +above the village—a career, too, conspicuous by strict +integrity. Did he live in a London suburb he would be pointed out +to the rising generation by anxious fathers as the very model for +them to follow. The village ought to be proud of them, but the +village secretly and aside hates them, being practical commentaries +on the general sloth and stupidity. This energy of work, too, is +like the saints of Utah, who have made an oasis and a garden where +was a desert. After labouring from morning till night they like the +sound of a feminine voice and the warmth of a feminine welcome in +the back parlour of rest.</p> +<p>This four times married elder—what work, what a pyramid of +work, his life represents! The young labourer left with his mother +and brothers and sisters to keep, learning carpentering, and +bettering his wages—learning mason-work, picking up the way +to manage machinery, inspiring men with confidence, and beginning +to get the leverage of borrowed money, getting a good name at the +bank, managing a little farm, contracting for building, contracting +for hauling—onwards to a larger farm, larger buildings, big +contracts in rising towns, somehow or other grinding money out of +everything by force of will, bending everything to his purpose by +stubborn sinew, always truthful, straightforward, and genuine. +Consider what immense labour this represent! I do not think many +such men can be found, rude and unlettered, yet naturally +gentleman-like, to work their way in the world without the aid of +the Lombard Street financiers; in village life, remember, where all +is stagnant and dull—no golden openings such as occur near +great towns. On work-days still wearing the same old hat—I +wonder what material it was originally?—tough leather +probably—its fibres soaked with mortar, its shine replaced by +lime, its shape dented by bricks, its rotundity flattened by +timber, stuck about with cow's hair—for a milker leans his +head against the animal—sodden with rain, and still the same +old hat. The same old hat, that Teniers might have introduced, a +regular daub of a hat: pity it is that it will never be painted. On +Sundays the high silk hat, the glossy black coat of the elder, but +there are no gloves to be got on such hands as those; they are too +big and too real ever to be got into the artificiality of kid. +Everything grew under those hands; if there was a rabbit-hutch in +the back yard it became a shed, and a stable sprang up by the shed, +and a sawpit out of the stable, and a workshop beyond the sawpit, +and cottages to let beyond that; next a market garden and a +brick-kiln, and a hop-oast, and a few acres of freehold meadow, and +by-and-by some villas; all increasing and multiplying, and leading +to enterprises in distant, places—such a mighty generation +after generation of solid things! A most earnest and conscientious +chapel man, welcoming the budding Paul and Silas, steadily feeding +the resident apostle, furnishing him with garden produce and a side +of bacon when the pig was killed, arranging a vicarage for him at a +next-to-nothing rent; lending him horse and trap, providing +innumerable bottles of three-star brandy for these men of God, and +continual pipes for the prophets; supplying the chapel fund with +credit in time of monetary difficulty—the very right arm and +defender of the faith.</p> +<p>Let the drama shift a year in one sentence in true dramatic way, +and now imagine the elder and his family proceeding down the road +as the Bethel congregation gather. As he approaches they all +ostentatiously turn their backs. One or two of the other elders +walk inside; being men of some education, they soften down the +appearance of their resentment by getting out of the way. Groups of +cottage people, on the contrary, rather come nearer the road, and +seem to want to make their sentiments coarsely visible. Such is the +way with that layer of society; they put everything so very very +crudely; they do not understand a gentle intimation, they express +their displeasure in the rudest manner, without any consciousness +that gruffness and brutality of manner degrades the righteous +beneath the level of the wicked who is accused. The women make +remarks to each other. Many of them had been visitors at the +elder's house, yet now they will not so much as say good morning to +his wife and family; their children look over the wall with stolid +stare. Farther down the road the elder meets the pastor on his road +to chapel. The elder looks the pastor straight in the face; the +pastor shuffles his eyes over the hedge; it is difficult to quite +forget the good dinners, the bottles, and the pipes. The elder goes +on, and he and his family are picked up by a conveyance at the +cross-ways and carried to a place of worship in a distant village. +This is only a specimen, this is only the Sunday, but the same +process goes on all the week. The elder's house, that was once the +resort of half the people in the village, is now deserted; no one +looks in in passing; the farmers do not stop as they come back from +market to tell how much they have lost by their corn, or to lament +that So-and-so is going to grub his hops—bad times; the women +do not come over of an afternoon with news of births and rumours of +marriages. One family, once intimate friends, sent over to say that +they liked the elder very much, but they could not call while he +was on such terms with their 'dear pastor.' Two or three of the +ministers who came by invitation to preach in the chapel, and who +had been friendly, did indeed call once, but were speedily given to +understand by the leading members of the congregation that dinners +and sleeping accommodation had been provided elsewhere, and they +must not do so again. The ministers, being entirely in the power of +the congregations, had to obey. In short, the elder and his family +were excommunicated, spiritually boycotted, interdicted, and cut +off from social intercourse; without any of the magical ceremonies +of the Vatican, they were as effectually excommunicated as if the +whole seventy cardinals and the Pope in person had pronounced the +dread sentence. In a great town perhaps such a thing would not be +so marked or so much felt; in a little village where everybody +knows everybody, where there are no strangers, and where you must +perforce come in contact constantly with persons you have known for +years, it is a very annoying process indeed. There are no streets +of shops to give a choice of butchers and bakers, no competition of +tea merchants and cheesemongers, so that if one man shows a dislike +to serving you, you can go on to the next and get better attention. +'Take it or go without it' is village law; no such thing as +independence; you must walk or drive into the nearest town, five +miles away perhaps, if you wish to avoid a sour face on the other +side of the counter. No one will volunteer the smallest service for +the excommunicant of the chapel; nothing could more vividly +illustrate the command to 'love one another.' No one can imagine +the isolation of a house in a country place interdicted like this. +If the other inhabitants could find any possible excuse for not +doing anything they were asked they would not do it—not for +money: they were out of what was wanted, or they had promised it, +or they couldn't find it, or they were too busy, and so all through +the whole course of daily life.</p> +<p>Now the most remarkable part of this bitter persecution was the +fact that the elder had lent money to almost all the principal +members of the congregation. The bold speculator had never been +appealed to in vain by any one in difficulty. Some had had a +hundred, some fifty, some twenty, some ten—farmers whose corn +had been a loss instead of a profit, whose hops had sold for less +than the cost of picking them, little tradesmen who had a bill to +meet, handicraft men who could not pay the men who worked side by +side with them, cottagers who needed an outhouse built, and others +who lacked the means to pay for a funeral. There seemed no one to +whom he had not lent money for some purpose, besides the use of his +name as security. Fortune had given to him, and he had given as +freely to others, so that it was indeed a bitter trial to the +heart:—</p> +<pre> + Blow, blow, thou winter wind, + Thou art not so unkind + As man's ingratitude. + Thy tooth is not so keen, + Because thou art not seen, + Although thy breath be rude. +</pre> +In his stern pride he did not condescend to put in motion any +revenge against these petty poltroons, but went on his way with +absolute indifference to all outward seeming. His family, who were +perhaps more nearly touched in the affairs of daily life than he +was, consoled themselves with the old country proverb, 'Ah, well, +we shall live till we die, if the pigs don't eat us, and then we +shall go acorning'—a clear survival of the belief in +transmigration, for he who is eaten by a pig becomes a pig, and +goeth forth with swine to eat acorns.<br> +<br> + +<p>There had been some very strong language and straightforward +observations at the chapel meetings, the private vestry of the +managers; the elder being one of the founders, and his name on the +deed could not be excluded—gall and wormwood—without +his signature nothing could be done. Bitterer still, the chapel was +heavily in debt to him. Had he chosen, in American phrase, he could +have 'shut up the shebang in mighty sudden time.' The elder was +tall; the elder was strong; the elder was grim; the elder was a man +who could rule hundreds of the roughest labourers; the elder was a +man who would have his say, and said it like throwing down a hod +full of bricks. With the irresistible logic of figures and +documents he demonstrated the pastor to be a liar, and told him so +to his face. With the same engines he proved that two or three of +the other managers were hypocrites, and told them so. Neither could +pastor nor managers refute it, but stood like sheep. Then he told +them what he had done for the chapel and for its minister, and no +one could deny him. Indeed, the minister had been heard to weakly +confess that the elder had once been a good friend to him. Perhaps +his partisans, as is often the case, had taken up the pastor's +cause with more violence than he himself desired, and by their +vehemence had driven him into a position which he himself would +have avoided. Most likely he would have made peace himself; but the +blot on all chapel systems of government is that the minister is +but the mouthpiece of his congregation. Having thrown down his load +of bricks thump, the elder stalked out with his memoranda and with +his cheque-book, leaving them to face the spectre of bankruptcy. At +least once a week the elder, out of sheer British determination to +claim his rights, stepped into the chapel rooms with his private +key, just to walk round. They put another lock which his key did +not fit, but he heaved the door open with a crowbar, and their case +must have been feeble indeed when they could not even bring an +action for trespass against him.</p> +<p>The historian knoweth not all things, and how this schism arose +is hidden from view. Very likely, indeed, it may have arisen out of +the very foundation of the chapel itself, such buildings and land +being usually held in some manner by a body of managers or +trustees—a sort of committee, in fact—a condition which +may easily afford opportunities for endless wrangling. In this +particular the Established Church has a great advantage, the land +and building being dedicated 'for ever,' so that no dispute is +possible. Tales there were of some little feminine disagreement +having arisen between the wives of the two men, magnified with the +assistance of a variety of tabbies, a sort of thing by no means +impossible among two hundred relations. Such affairs often spring +from a grain of mustard seed, and by-and-by involve all the fowls +of the air that roost in the branches. Idle tales circulated of a +discussion among the ministers (visitors) which happened one +evening over the pipes and three-star bottles, when the elder, +taking down a celebrated volume of sermons, pointed out a passage +almost word for word identical with what the pastor had said in his +sermon on the previous Sunday—a curious instance of parallel +inspiration. Unkind people afterwards spread the gloss that the +elder had accused the minister of plagiarism. Mere fiction, no +doubt. After a thing has happened people can generally find twenty +causes. The excommunication, however, was real enough, and ten +times more effectual because the sentence was pronounced not by the +pastor but by the congregation.</p> +<p>Still nothing disturbed the dignity of the elder. He worked away +as usual, always with tools in his hands. He would tear away with a +plane at a window-frame or a coffin-lid, and tell the listener his +wrongs, and how he had been scorned and insulted by people whom he +had helped for years, and how they had reversed the teaching of the +gospel in their bearing towards him—heavier blows and longer +shavings—as if there were no such thing as true religion. +And, indeed, he would say, in his business transactions, he had +over and over again found that men who were not +'professors'—<i>i.e.</i> who did not claim to be +'saved'—were more truthful and more to be depended on in +their engagements than those who constantly talked of +righteousness. For all that—with a tremendous +shaving—for all that, the gospel was true.</p> +<p>So he planed and hammered, and got a large contract on a +building estate near a great town, busy as busy, where it was +necessary to have a tramway and a locomotive, or 'dirt-engine,' to +drag the trucks with the earth from the excavations. This engine +was a source of never-failing amusement to the steady, quiet +farmers whose domains were being invaded; very observant people, +but not pushing. One day a part of the engine was tied up with +string; another day it was blowing off steam like a volcano, the +boiler nearly empty and getting red-hot, while the men rushed to +fetch water with a couple of buckets; finally, the funnel rusted +off and a wooden one was put up—a merry joke! But while they +laughed the contractor pushed ahead in Yankee style, using any and +every expedient, and making money while they sighed over the slow +plough. They must have everything perfect, else they could do +nothing; he could do much with very imperfect materials. He would +make a cucumber frame out of a church window, or a church window +out of a cucumber frame. One of the residents on the new building +estate found his cupboard doors numbered on the panels two, six, +eight, in gilt figures inside, and in fact they were made of pew +doors which the contractor had got out of some old church he had +ransacked and turned topsy-turvy to the order of the vicar. He +would have run up a new Salt Lake City cheap, or built a new Rome +at five per cent. in a few days.</p> +<p>Meantime, at the little village, various incidents occurred; the +sternly virtuous cottagers, for one thing, had collected from their +scattered homes and held a 'Horn Fair.' Some erring barmaid at the +inn, accused of too lavish a use of smiles, too much +kindness—most likely a jealous tale only—aroused their +righteous ire. With shawm and timbrel and ram's-horn +trumpet—<i>i.e.</i> with cow's horns, poker and tongs, and +tea-trays—the indignant and high-toned population collected +night after night by the tavern, and made such fearful uproar that +the poor girl, really quite innocent, had to leave her situation. +Nothing could be more charitable, more truly righteous, after the +model of the Man who would not even so much as <i>say</i> a harsh +word to the woman taken in adultery. One poor man shut up his house +and went away with his wife and family, and not being heard of for +a little while these backbiters told each other that he had not +paid his rent, that his furniture was only on loan, and not a +single instalment had been met; he owed the butcher half a crown, +the baker discovered there was one and twopence on his book, the +tavern could show a score, everybody knew the wretch was a drunkard +and beat his wife, and many knew his wife was no better than she +should be. Nothing was too base to be laid to the charge of the +scoundrel who had run away. At the end of a few weeks the wretch +and his family returned, looking very healthy and well supplied +with money, having been picking in a distant hop-garden. It was +common for people to shut their houses and do this at that season +of the year, but their blind malice was too eager to remember this. +Another person by continually dunning a poor debtor to pay him half +a sovereign had driven him to commit suicide! So ran their bitter +tongues. Backbiting is the curse of village life, and seems to keep +people by its effects upon the mind far more effectually in the +grip of poverty than the lowness of wages. They become so saturated +with littleness that they cannot attempt anything, and have no +enterprise. To transplant them to the freer atmosphere of a great +city, or of the Far West, is the only means of cure. At this +particular village they were exceptionally given to backbiting, +perhaps because everybody was more than usually related to +everybody; they hated each other and vilified each other with +pre-eminent energy. The poorest man, half starving, would hardly do +a job for a farmer because—because—because he did not +know why, except that nothing was too bad to be said of him; the +poorest washerwoman with hungry children would not go and do a +day's work for Mrs. So-and-so, because 'she beant nobody, she beant +no better than we; beant a-going to work for her.' This malice was +not directed towards strangers, against whom it is natural to heave +half a brick, but against their own old neighbours. They tore each +other to pieces, they were perfect cannibals with the tongue, +perfect Lestrigonians. They never said 'good morning' to an equal, +or lifted their hats to a lady; a jerk of the head, say about half +an inch from the perpendicular, was their utmost greeting; their +manners were about as pleasant as those of cattle might be could +they be dressed like human beings. True, Bethel was of modern date, +but they had had resident vicars for centuries; and where had they +been, and where was the humanising tendency of much-vaunted +Christianity? Could not three centuries soften a little village? I +will do something for them if I can, for the credit of the race at +large; they shall not be without an excuse if I can help it. +Perhaps it was because there were no resident squires, perhaps +because a good many of them had little plots of land; still they +were Lestrigonians, and no doubt the row between the elder and the +pastor was really due to this malice and uncharitableness. How +curious it seems to a philosopher that so much religion should be +accompanied by such bitter ill-feeling!—true religion, too, +for these Lestrigonians were most seriously in earnest in their +chapelling. Yet no doubt they fomented the row, for the pastor +himself was much too clever a man to proceed to such extremities. +By nature he was a fluent speaker, rising to eloquence as eloquence +is understood among that kind of audience. He carried them with +him, quite swept them away. They came to hear him from miles round +about; there were plenty of other chapels, but no one like the man +at Bethel. Once they came they always came. Who can name a country +clergyman with university training who can do this? The man at +Bethel also possessed a natural talent of personally impressing and +gaining the good-will of every person with whom he came in contact; +it was astonishing with what tenacity people clung to him, so that +there must have been something exceptional in his character. His +origin was of the humblest; he was drawn from the same class as the +apostles, as the great Fisherman, and the great Tentmaker, a man of +manual labour lifted entirely by his wit to be a very great power +indeed in the community where he was stationed.</p> +<p>Too much credit must not be put upon cottagers' tales: one day +they are all so bitter, hanging would not be sufficient, and you +would suppose they were going to show a lifelong enmity; in a week +or two it is all forgotten, and next month they are taking tea +together. Those who know them best say you should never believe +anything a cottager tells you. There is sure to be exaggeration, or +they tell you half the story, and they catch up the wildest rumour +and repeat it as unquestioned truth. No doubt after a while all +this sound and fury signifying nothing will blow off, and there +will be a reconciliation; the pastor and the elder will be bosom +friends, all the congregation will be calling, and eating and +drinking; there will be pipes and three-star bottles, and the elect +will be made perfect. If the fourth wife disappears in time there +will be a fifth, and Christian Mormonism will flourish exceedingly. +Very likely the furious fall-out is over before now; there is no +stability in this peculiar cast, the chapel mind.</p> +<p>Another curious reflection suggests itself to any one who has +seen the fervour of Bethel. Within an easy walk of each other there +are eight chapels and three churches and the Salvation Army +barracks; a thinly populated country district, too; no squires, the +farmers all depressed and ruined, the cottagers howling about +starvation wages. One would have thought all of them together could +hardly maintain a single spiritual teacher. All this for chapel and +church; but no cottage hospital, either for accidents or diseases. +If any one fell ill he had to be content with the workhouse doctor; +if they required anything else they must go to the clergyman and +get a letter of introduction or some kind of certificate for a +London hospital, or any infirmary to which he happened to +subscribe. The chapellers made no bones about utilising the +clergyman in this way; they considered it their right; as he was +the parish clergyman, it was his place to supply them with such +certificates. There was no provision for the aged labourer or his +wife when strength failed—nothing for them but parish relief. +There was no library. There was no institute for the teaching of +science, or for lectures disseminating the knowledge of the +nineteenth century. Every now and then the children died from +drinking bad water—ditch water; the women took tea, the men +took beer, the children drank water. Good water abounded, but then +there was the trouble and expense of digging wells; individuals +could not do it, the community did not care. Does it not seem +strange? All this fervour and building of temples and rattling of +the Salvation Army drum and loud demands for the New Jerusalem, and +not a single effort for physical well-being or mental training!</p> +<p>While these pranks are played at Bethel let us glance a moment +in another direction down the same green country lane on the same +bright summer day. Let it be late in the afternoon of the Sunday, +the swifts still wheeling, the roses still blooming, blue-winged +jays slipping in and out of the beech trees. These hazel lanes were +once the scene of Puritan marchings to and fro, of Fifth Monarchy +men who likened the Seven-hilled City to the Beast; furious men +with musket and pike, whose horses' hoofs had defaced the mosaic +pavements of cathedral. These hazel lanes, lovely nut-tree boughs, +with 'many an oak that grew thereby,' have been the scene of +historic events down from the days of St. Dunstan. In the quiet of +the Sunday afternoon, when the clashing of the bells was stilled, +there walked in the shade of the oaks a young priest and a lady. +His well-shaped form seemed the better shown by his flowing +cassock; his handsome face was refined by its air of late devotion. +The lady, dressed in the highest style of aristocratic fashion, +that is to say with grace, was evidently a member of good society. +A little picture certainly: only two figures, no pronounced action, +no tragedy, yet what a meaning in that cassock! It spoke of +confession, of ritual, of transubstantiation, of all the great +historic romance of Rome ecclesiastical. The great romance of Rome: +its holy footsteps of St. Peter, its ærial dome of Michael +Angelo, its Vatican of ancient manuscripts, of beauteous statue and +chariot—the great romance of Rome, its Borgia, its dungeons +and flames of the Inquisition. A picture of two figures only, but +consider the background. Consider the thousands of broad English +acres that now support great monasteries and convents in quiet +country places where one could scarce expect to find a barn. The +buildings are there; that is a solid fact, take what view you like +of them, or take none at all. There are men about country roads +with shaven crown and cassock whose dark Continental faces have an +unmistakable stamp of priesthood; faces that might be pictured with +those of the monks of old Spain. Women in long black cloaks, black +hoods and white coif, women with long black rosaries hanging from +the girdle, go to and fro among the wheat and the clover. One rubs +one's eyes. Are these the days of Friar Laurence and Juliet? Shall +we meet the mitred abbot with his sumpter mule? Shall we meet the +mailed knights? In some places whole villages belong to English +monks, and there is not a man or woman in them who is not a +Catholic; there are even small country towns which by dint of time, +money, and territorial influence have been re-absorbed, and are now +as completely Catholic as they were before Henry VIII. In these +half-village half-towns you may chance on a busy market day to come +across a great building abutting on the street, and may listen to +the organ and the chant; there is incense and gorgeous ceremony, +the golden tinkle of the altar-bell. Bow your head, it is the host; +cross yourself, it is the mass. The butcher and the dealer are busy +with the sheep, but it is a saint's day. By-and-by no doubt we +shall have a village Lourdes at home, and miracles and pilgrimages +and offerings and shrines: the village will be right glad to see +the pilgrims, if only they come from the West End and have money in +the purse. The village would be very glad indeed of a miracle to +bring it a shower of gold.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="6">THE COUNTRY-SIDE: SUSSEX.</a></h3> +<h4 align="center">I</h4> +<p>On the wall of an old barn by the great doors there still +remains a narrow strip of notice-board, much battered and +weather-beaten: 'Beware of steel ——' can be read, the +rest has been broken off, but no doubt it was 'traps.' 'Beware of +steel traps,' a caution to thieves—a reminiscence of those +old days which many of our present writers and leaders of opinion +seem to think never existed. When the strong labourer could hardly +earn 7<i>s</i>. a week, when in some parishes scarcely half the +population got work at all, living, in the most literal sense, on +the parish, when bread was dear and the loaf was really life +itself, then that stern inscription had meaning enough. The +granaries were full, the people half starved. The wheat was +threshed by the flail in full view of the wretched, who could gaze +through the broad doors at the golden grain; the sparrows helped +themselves, men dare not. At night men tried to steal the corn, and +had to be prevented by steel traps, like rats. To-day wheat is so +cheap, it scarcely pays to carry it to market. Some farmers have it +ground, and sell the flour direct to the consumer; some have used +it for feeding purposes—actually for hogs. The contrast is +extraordinary. Better let the hogs eat the corn than that man +should starve. To-day the sparrows are just as busy as ever of old, +chatter, chirp around the old barn, while the threshing machine +hums, and every now and then lowers its voice in a long-drawn +descending groan of seemingly deep agony. Up it rises again as the +sheaves are cast in—hum, hum, hum; the note rises and +resounds and fills the yard up to the roof of the barn and the +highest tops of the ricks as a flood fills a pool, and overflowing, +rushes abroad over the fields, past the red hop-oast, past the +copse of yellowing larches, onwards to the hills. An inarticulate +music—a chant telling of the sunlit hours that have gone and +the shadows that floated under the clouds over the beautiful wheat. +No more shall the tall stems wave in the wind or listen to the bees +seeking the clover-fields. The lark that sang above the green corn, +the partridge that sheltered among the yellow stalks, the list of +living things delighting in it—all have departed. The joyous +life of the wheat is ended—not in vain, for now the grain +becomes the life of man, and in that object yet more glorified. +Outwards the chant extending, reaches the hollows of the valley, +rolling over the shortened stubble, where the plough already begins +the first verse of a new time. A pleasant sound to listen to, the +hum of the threshing, the beating of the engine, the rustle of the +straw, the shuffle shuffle of the machine, the voices of the men, +the occupation and bustle in the autumn afternoon! I listened to it +sitting in the hop-oast, whose tower, like a castle turret, +overlooks and domineers the yard. In the loft the resounding hum +whirled around, beating and rebounding from the walls, and forcing +its way out again through the narrow window. The edge, as it were, +of a sunbeam lit up the rude chamber crossed with unhewn beams and +roofed above with unconcealed tiles, whose fastening pegs were +visible. A great heap of golden scales lay in one corner, the hops +fresh from the drying. Up to his waist in a pocket let through the +floor a huge giant of a man trod the hops down in the sack, turning +round and round, and now his wide shoulders and now his red cheeks +succeeded. The music twirled him about as a leaf by the wind. +Without the rich blue autumn sky; within the fragrant odour of +hops, the hum of the threshing circling round like the buzz of an +immense bee. As the hum of insects high in the atmosphere of +midsummer suits and fits to the roses and the full green meads, so +the hum of the threshing suits to the yellowing leaf and drowsy air +of autumn. The iteration of hum and monotone soothes, and means so +much more in its inarticulation than the adjusted chords and tune +of written music. Laughing, the children romped round the ricks; +they love the threshing and flock to it, they watch the fly-wheel +rotating, they look in at the furnace door when the engine-driver +stokes his fire, they gaze wonderingly at the gauge, and long to +turn the brass taps; then with a shout they rush to chase the +unhappy mice dislodged from the corn. The mice hide themselves in +the petticoats of the women working at the 'sheening,' and the +cottager when she goes home in the evening calls her cat and shakes +them out of her skirts. By a blue waggon the farmer stands leaning +on his staff. He is an invalid, and his staff, or rather pole, is +as tall as himself; he holds it athwart, one end touching the +ground beyond his left foot, the other near his right shoulder. His +right hand grasps it rather high, and his left down by his hip, so +that the pole forms a line across his body. In this way he is +steadied and supported and his whole weight relieved, much more so +than it would be with an ordinary walking-stick or with one in each +hand. When he walks he keeps putting the staff, which he calls a +bat, in front, and so poles himself along. There is an invalid boy +in the yard, who walks with a similar stick. The farmer is talking +with a friend who has looked in from the lane in passing, and +carries a two-spean spud, or Canterbury hoe, with points instead of +a broad blade. They are saying that it is a 'pretty day,' 'pretty +weather'—it is always 'pretty' with them, instead of fine. +Pretty weather for the hopping; and so that leads on to climbing up +into the loft and handling the golden scales. The man with the hoe +dips his brown fist in the heap and gathers up a handful, noting as +he does so how the crisp, brittle, leaf-life substance of the hops +crackles, and yet does not exactly break in his palm. They must be +dry, yet not too dry to go to powder. They cling a little to the +fingers, adhering to the skin, sticky. He looks for rust and finds +none, and pronounces it a good sample. 'But there beant nothen' now +like they old Grapes used to be,' he concludes. The pair have not +long gone down the narrow stairs when a waggon stops outside in the +lane, and up comes the carter to speak with the 'drier'—the +giant trampling round in the pocket—and to see how the hops +'be getting on.' In five minutes another waggoner looks in, then a +couple of ploughboys, next a higgler passing by; no one walks or +rides or drives past the hop-kiln without calling to see how things +are going on. The carters cannot stay long, but the boys linger, +eagerly waiting a chance to help the 'drier,' even if only to reach +him his handkerchief from the nail. Round and round in the pocket +brings out the perspiration, and the dust of the hops gets into the +air-passages and thickens on the skin of his face. One of the lads +has to push the hops towards him with a rake. 'Don't you step on +'em too much, that'll break 'em.' On the light breeze that comes +now and then a little chaff floats in at the open window from the +threshing. A crooked sort of face appears in the doorway, the body +has halted halfway up—a semi-gipsy face—and the fellow +thrusts a basket before him on the floor. 'Want any herrings?' 'No, +thankie—no,' cries the giant. 'Not to-day, measter; thusty +enough without they.' Herrings are regularly carried round in +hop-time to all the gardens, and there is a great sale for them +among the pickers. By degrees the 'drier' rises higher in the +pocket, coming up, as it were, through the floor first his +shoulders, then his body, and now his knees are visible. This is +the ancient way of filling a hop pocket; a machine is used now in +large kilns, but here, where there is only one cone, indicative of +a small garden, the old method is followed.</p> +<p>The steps on which I sit lead up to the door of the cone. +Inside, the green hops lie on the horsehair carpet, and the fumes +of the sulphur burning underneath come up through them. A vapour +hangs about the surface of the hops; looking upwards, the +diminishing cone rises hollow to the cowl, where a piece of blue +sky can be seen. Round the cone a strip of thin lathing is coiled +on a spiral; could any one stand on these steps and draw the inside +of the cone? Could perspective be so managed as to give the idea of +the diminishing hollow and spiral? the side opposite would not be +so difficult, but the bit this side, overhead and almost +perpendicular, and so greatly foreshortened, how with that? It +would be necessary to make the spectator of the drawing feel as if +this side of the cone rose up from behind his head; as if his head +were just inside the cone. Would not this be as curious a bit of +study as any that could be found in the interior of old Continental +churches, which people go so many miles to see? Our own land is so +full of interest. There are pictures by the oldest Master +everywhere in our own country, by the very Master of the masters, +by Time, whose crooked signature lies in the corner of the shadowy +farmhouse hearth.</p> +<p>Beneath the loft, on the ground-floor, I found the giant's +couch. The bed of a cart had been taken off its wheels, forming a +very good bedstead, dry and sheltered on three sides. On the fourth +the sleeper's feet were towards the charcoal fire. Opening the +furnace door, he could sit there and watch the blue and green +tongues of sulphur flame curl round about and above the glowing +charcoal, the fumes rising to the hops on the horsehair high over. +The 'hoppers' in the garden used to bring their kettles and pots to +boil, till the practice grew too frequent, and was stopped, because +the constant opening of the furnace wasted the heat. The sulphur +comes in casks. A sulphur cask sawn down the middle, with a bit +left by the head for cover, is often used by the hoppers as a +cradle. Another favourite cradle is made from a trug basket, the +handle cut off. It is then like half a large eggshell, with cross +pieces underneath to prevent it from canting aside. This cradle is +set on the bare ground in the garden; when they move one woman +takes hold of one end and a second of the other, and thus carry the +infant. If you ask them, they will find you a 'hop-dog,' a handsome +green caterpillar marked with black velvet stripes and downy bands +between. Their labour usually ends early in the afternoon.</p> +<p>The giant at the kiln must watch and bide his time the night +through till the hops are ready to be withdrawn from the cone. He +is alone. Deep shadows gather round the farmstead and the ricks, +and there is not a sound, nothing but the rustle of a leaf falling +from the hollow oak by the gateway. But at midnight, just as the +drier is drawing the hops, a thunderstorm bursts, and the blue +lightning lights up the red cone without, blue as the sulphur +flames creeping over the charcoal within. It is lonely work for him +in the storm. By day he has many little things to do between the +greater labours, to make the pockets (or sacks) by sewing the +sackcloth, or to mark the name of the farmer and the date with +stencil plates. For sewing up the mouth of the pocket when filled +there is a peculiar kind of string used; you may see it hanging up +in any of the country 'stores;' they are not shops, but stores of +miscellaneous articles. He must be careful not to fill his pockets +too full of hops, not to tread them too closely, else the sharp +folk in the market will suspect that unfair means have been +resorted to to increase the weight, and will cut the pocket all to +pieces to see if it contains a few bricks. Nor must it be too +light; that will not do.</p> +<p>In this district, far from the great historic hop-fields of +Kent, the hops are really grown in gardens, little pieces often not +more than half an acre or even less in extent. Capricious as a +woman, hops will only flourish here and there; they have the +strongest likes and dislikes, and experience alone finds out what +will suit them. These gardens are always on a slope, if possible in +the angle of a field and under shelter of a copse, for the wind is +the terror, and a great gale breaks them to pieces; the bines are +bruised, bunches torn off, and poles laid prostrate. The gardens +being so small, from five to forty acres in a farm, of course but +few pickers are required, and the hop-picking becomes a 'close' +business, entirely confined to home families, to the cottagers +working on the farm and their immediate friends. Instead of a +scarcity of labour, it is a matter of privilege to get a bin +allotted to you. There are no rough folk down from Bermondsey or +Mile End way. All staid, stay-at-home, labouring people—no +riots; a little romping no doubt on the sly, else the maids would +not enjoy the season so much as they do. But there are none of +those wild hordes which collect about the greater fields of Kent. +Farmers' wives and daughters and many very respectable girls go out +to hopping, not so much for the money as the pleasant out-of-door +employment, which has an astonishing effect on the health. Pale +cheeks begin to glow again in the hop-fields. Children who have +suffered from whooping-cough are often sent out with the +hop-pickers; they play about on the bare ground in the most +careless manner, and yet recover. Air and hops are wonderful +restoratives. After passing an afternoon with the drier in the +kiln, seated close to a great heap of hops and inhaling the odour, +I was in a condition of agreeable excitement all the evening. My +mind was full of fancy, imagination, flowing with ideas; a sense of +lightness and joyousness lifted me up. I wanted music, and felt +full of laughter. Like the half-fabled haschish, the golden bloom +of the hops had entered the nervous system; intoxication without +wine, without injurious after-effect, dream intoxication; they were +wine for the nerves. If hops only grew in the Far East we should +think wonders of so powerful a plant. At hop-picking a girl can +earn about 10<i>s</i>. a week, so that it is not such a highly paid +employment as might be supposed from the talk there is about it. +The advantages are sideways, so to say; a whole family can work at +the same time, and the sum-total becomes considerable. Hopping +happily comes on just after corn harvest, so that the labourers get +two harvest-times. The farmers find it an expensive crop. It costs +50<i>l</i>. or 60<i>l</i>. to pick a very small garden, and if the +Egyptian plague of insects has prevailed the price at market will +not repay the expenditure. The people talk much of a possible duty +on foreign hops. The hop farmer should have a lady-bird on his seal +ring for his sign and token, for the lady-bird is his great friend. +Lady-birds (and their larvæ) destroy myriads of the aphides +which cause rust, and a flight of lady-birds should be welcomed as +much as a flight of locusts is execrated in other countries.</p> +<h4 align="center">II.</h4> +<p>One of the hop-picking women told me how she went to church and +the parson preached such a curious sermon, all about our 'innerds' +(inwards, insides), and how many 'boanes' we had, and by-and-by 'he +told us that we were the only beasts who had the use of our hands.' +Years since at village schools the girls used to swallow pins; +first one would do it, then another, presently half the school were +taking pins. Ignorant of physiology! Yet they did not seem to +suffer; the pins did not penetrate the pleura or lodge in the +processes. Now Anatomy climbs into the pulpit and shakes a bony +fist at the congregation. That is the humerus of it, as Corporal +Nym might say. At the late election—the cow +election—the candidates were Brown, Conservative, and +Stiggins, Liberal. The day after the polling a farm labourer was +asked how he filled up his voting paper. 'Oh,' said he full of the +promised cow, 'I doan't care for that there Brown chap, he bean't +no good; zo I jest put a cross agen he, and voted for Stiggins.' +The dream of life was accomplished, the labourer had a vote, +and—irony—he voted exactly opposite to his intent.</p> +<p>Too-whoo! ooo!—the sound of a horn,—the hunt was up; +but this was not the hunting season. Looking out of the kiln door I +saw a boy running at full speed down the lane with a small +drain-pipe tucked under his arm. He stopped, put the pipe to his +mouth, and blew a blast on this 'dread horn,' then jumped through a +gap in the hedge and disappeared. They were playing fox and hounds; +who but a boy would have thought of using a drain-pipe for a horn? +It gave a good note, too. In and about the kiln I learned that if +you smash a frog with a stone, no matter how hard you hit him, he +cannot die till sunset. You must be careful not to put on any new +article of clothing for the first time on a Saturday, or some +severe punishment will ensue. One person put on his new boots on a +Saturday, and on Monday broke his arm. Some still believe in herbs, +and gather wood-betony for herb tea, or eat dandelion leaves +between slices of dry toast. There is an old man living in one of +the villages who has reached the age of a hundred and sixty years, +and still goes hop-picking. Ever so many people had seen him, and +knew all about him; an undoubted fact, a public fact; but I could +not trace him to his lair. His exact whereabouts could not be +fixed. I live in hopes of finding him in some obscure 'Hole' yet +(many little hamlets are 'Holes,' as Froghole, Foxhole). What an +exhibit for London! Did he realise his own value, he would soon +come forth. I joke, but the existence of this antique person is +firmly believed in. Sparrows are called 'spadgers.' The cat +wandering about got caught in the rat-clams—<i>i.e.</i> a +gin. Another cat was the miller's favourite at the windmill, a +well-fed, happy, purring pussy, fond of the floury miller—he +as white as snow, she as black as a coal. One day pussy was +ingeniously examining the machinery, when the wind suddenly rose, +the sails revolved, and she was ground up, fulfilling the ogre's +threat—'I'll grind his bones to make my bread.' This was not +so sad as the fate of the innkeeper's cow. You have read the +'Arabian Nights'—that book of wisdom, for in truth the +stories are no stories; they are the records of ancient experience, +the experience of a thousand years, and some of them are as true +and as deeply to be pondered on as anything in the holiest books +the world reverences. You remember the Three Calenders, each of +whom lost an eye—struck out in the most arbitrary and cruel +fashion. The innkeeper had a cow, a very pretty, quiet cow, but in +time it came about that her left horn, turning inwards, grew in +such a manner that it threatened to force the point into her head. +To remedy this the top of the horn was sawn off and a brass knob +fastened on the tip, as is the custom. The cow passed the summer in +the meadows with the rest, till by-and-by it was found that she had +gone blind in the left eye. It happened in this way: the rays of +the sun heated the brass knob and so destroyed the sight. Unable to +call attention to its suffering, the poor creature was compelled to +endure, and could not escape. Now the Three Calenders could speak, +and had the advantage of human intelligence, and yet each lost an +eye, and they were as helpless in the hands of fate as this poor +animal.</p> +<p>Down in one of the hamlets there was a forge to which all the +workpeople who wanted any tools sharpened carried their +instruments, the smith being able to put a better edge on. Other +blacksmiths or carpenters, if they required a particularly good +edge for some purpose, came to him. This art he had acquired from +his grandfather as a sort of heirloom or secret. The grandfather +while at work used to trouble and puzzle himself how to get a very +sharp edge, and at length one night he dreamed how to do it. From +that time he became prosperous. If a celebrated sonata was revealed +in a dream, why not the way to sharpen a chisel?</p> +<p>When he was tired the drier said he was 'dreggy.' They were +talking of the lambs, and how that dry season they had scarcely any +sweetbreads. The sweetbreads were so scanty, the butchers did not +even offer them for sale; the lambs had fed on dry food. In seasons +when there was plenty of grass and green food they had good large +sweetbreads, white as milk. The character of the food does thus +under some circumstances really alter the condition of an organ. +The sweetbread is the pancreas; now a deficient pancreatic action +is supposed to play a great part in consumption and other wasting +diseases. Have we here, then, an indication that when the pancreas +may be suspected plenty of succulent food and plenty of liquid are +nature's remedies? We looked over at the pigs in the sty. They were +rooting about in a mess of garbage. 'Oh, what dirty things pigs +are!' said a lady. 'Yes, ma'am; they're rightly named,' said he. +Some scientific gentleman in the district had a large telescope +with which he made frequent observations, and at times would let a +labouring man look at the moon. 'Ah,' said our friend, shaking his +head in a solemn, impressive way, 'my brother, he see through it; +he see great rocks and seas up there. He say he never want to see +through it no more. He wish he never looked through him at all.' +The poor man was dreadfully frightened at what he had seen in the +moon. At first I laughed at the story and the odd idea of a huge, +great fellow being alarmed at a glance through a telescope. Since +then, however, on reflection, it seems to me perfectly natural. He +was illiterate; he had never read of astronomy; to him it was +really like a sudden peep into another world, for the instrument +was exceptionally powerful, and the view of the sunlight on the +peaks and the shadows in the valleys must have been extraordinary +to him. There was nothing to laugh at; the incident shows what a +great and wonderful thing it is that rocks and mountains should be +whirled along over our heads. The idea has become familiarised to +us by reading, but the fact is none the less marvellous. This man +saw the fact first, before he had the idea, and he had sufficient +imagination to realise it. At the village post office they ask for +'Letterhead, please, sir,' instead of a stamp, for it is +characteristic of the cottager that whatever words he uses must be +different from those employed by other people. Stamp is as familiar +to him as to you, yet he prefers to say 'letterhead'—because +he does. There are many curious old houses, some of them timbered, +still standing in these parts. The immense hearths which were once +necessary for burning wood are now occupied with 'duck's-nest' +grates, so called from the bars forming a sort of nest. In one of +the hamlets the women touched their hats to us.</p> +<p>Not far from the hop-kiln I found a place where charcoal-burning +was carried on. The brown charcoal-burner, upright as a bolt, +walked slowly round the smouldering heap, and wherever flame seemed +inclined to break out cast damp ashes upon the spot. Six or seven +water-butts stood in a row for his use. To windward he had built a +fence of flakes, or wattles as they are called here, well worked in +with brushwood, to break the force of the draught along the +hill-side, which would have caused too fierce a fire. At one side +stood his hut of poles meeting in a cone, wrapped round with rough +canvas. Besides his rake and shovel and a short ladder, he showed +me a tool like an immense gridiron, bent half double, and fitted to +a handle in the same way as a spade. This was for sifting charcoal +when burned, and separating the small from the larger pieces. Every +now and then a puff of smoke rose from the heap and drifted along; +it has a peculiar odour, a dense, thick smell of smothered wood +coal, to me not disagreeable, but to some people so annoying that +they have been known to leave their houses and abandon a locality +where charcoal-burning was practised. Dim memories of old days come +crowding round me, invisible to him, to me visible and alive, of +the kings, great hunters, who met with the charcoal-burners in the +vast forests of mediæval days, of the noble knights and dames +whom the rude charcoal-burners guided to their castles through +trackless wastes, and all the romance of old. Scarcely is there a +tale of knightly adventure that does not in some way or other +mention these men, whose occupation fixed them in the wildernesses +which of yore stretched between cultivated places. I looked at the +modern charcoal-burner with interest. He was brown, good-looking, +upright, and distinctly superior in general style to the common run +of working men. He spoke without broad accent and used correct +language; he was well educated and up to the age. He knew his own +mind, and had an independent expression; a very civil, intelligent, +and straightforward man. No rude charcoal-burner of old days this. +We stood close to the highway road; a gentleman's house was within +stone's throw; the spot, like the man, was altogether the reverse +of what we read in ancient story. Yet such is the force of +association that I could not even now divest myself of those dim +memories and living dreams of old; there seemed as it were the +clank of armour, a rustic of pennons in the leaves; it would have +been quite natural to hold bow and arrow in the hand. The man was +modern, but his office was ancient. The descent was unbroken. The +charcoal-burner traced back to the Norman Conquest. That very spot +where we stood, now surrounded with meadows and near dwellings, +scarcely thirty years since had formed part of one of the largest +of the old forests. It was forest land. Woods away on the slope +still remained to witness to traditions. As the charcoal-burner +worked beside the modern highway, so his trade had come down and +was still practised in the midst of modern trades, in these times +of sea-coal and steam. He told me that he and his brothers were +maintained by charcoal-burning the year through, and, it appeared, +in a very comfortable position. They only burned a small quantity +here; they moved about from place to place in the woods, according +as the timber was thrown. They often stopped for weeks in the +woods, watching the fires all night. A great part of the work was +done in the winter, beginning in October—after the +hop-picking. Now resting in his lonely hut, now walking round and +tending the smoking heap, the charcoal-burner watched out the long +winter nights while the stars drifted over the leafless trees, till +the grey dawn came with hoar-frost. He liked his office, but owned +that the winter nights were very long. Starlight and frost and slow +time are the same now as when the red deer and the wild boar dwelt +in the forest. Much of the charcoal was prepared for hop-drying, +large quantities being used for that purpose. At one time a +considerable amount was rebaked for patent fuel, and the last use +to which it had been put was in carrying out some process with +Australian meat. It was still necessary in several trades. +Goldsmiths used charcoal for soldering. They preferred the charcoal +made from the thick bark of the butts of birch trees. At the foot +or butt of the birch the bark grows very thick, in contrast to the +rind higher, which is thinner than on other trees. Lord Sheffield's +mansion at Fletching was the last great house he knew that was +entirely warmed with charcoal, nothing else being burnt. Charcoal +was still used in houses for heating plates. But the principal +demand seemed to be for hop-drying purposes—the charcoal +burned in the kiln where I had been resting was made on the spot. +This heap he was now burning was all of birch poles, and would be +four days and four nights completing. On the fourth morning it was +drawn, and about seventy sacks were filled, the charcoal being +roughly sorted.</p> +<p>The ancient forest land is still wild enough, there is no +seeming end to the heath and fern on the ridges or to the woods in +the valleys. These moor-like stretches bear a resemblance to parts +of Exmoor. The oaks that once reached from here to the sea-shore +were burned to smelt the iron in the days when Sussex was the great +iron land. For charcoal the vast forests were cut down; it seems +strange to think that cannon were once cast—the cannon that +won India for us—where now the hops grow and the plough +travels slowly, so opposite as they are to the roaring furnace and +the ringing hammer. Burned and blasted by the heat, the ground +where the furnaces were still retains the marks of the fire. But +to-day there is silence; the sunshine lights up the purple heather +and the already yellowing fern; the tall and beautiful larches +stand graceful in the stillness. Their lines always flow in +pleasant curves; they need no wind to bend them into loveliness of +form: so quiet and deserted is the place that the wide highway road +is green with vegetation, and the impression of our wheels is the +only trace upon them. Looking up, the road—up the +hill—it appears green almost from side to side. It is well +made and firm, and fit for any traffic; but a growth of minute +weeds has sprung up, and upon these our wheels leave their marks. +Of roads that have become grass—grown in war—desolated +countries we have all read, but this is our own unscathed +England.</p> +<p>The nature of the ancient forest, its quiet and untrodden +silence, adheres to the site. Far down in the valley there is more +stirring, and the way is well pulverised. In the hollow there is an +open space, backed by the old beech trees of the park, dotted with +ashes, and in the midst a farmhouse partly timbered. Here by the +road-side they point out to you a low mound, at the very edge of +the road, which could easily be passed unnoticed as a mere heap of +scrapings overgrown with weeds and thistles. On looking closer it +appears more regularly shaped; it is indeed a grave. Of old time an +unfortunate woman committed suicide, and according to the barbarous +law of those days her body was buried at the cross-roads and a +stake driven through it. That was the end so far as the brutal law +of the land went. But the road-menders, with better hearts, from +that day to this have always kept up the mound. However beautiful +the day, however beautiful the beech trees and the ashes that stand +apart, there is always a melancholy feeling in passing the place. +This thistle-grown mound saddens the whole; it is impossible to +forget it; it lies, as it were, under everything, under the +beeches, the sunlit sward and fern. The mark of death is there. The +dogs and the driven cattle tread the spot; a human being has passed +into dust. The circumstance of the mound having been kept up so +many years bears curious testimony to the force of tradition. Many +writers altogether deny the value of tradition. Dr. Schliemann's +spade, however, found Troy. Perhaps tradition is like the fool of +the saying, and is sometimes right.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="7">SWALLOW-TIME</a></h3> +<p>The cave-swallows have come at last with the midsummer-time, and +the hay and white clover and warm winds that breathe hotly, like +one that has been running uphill. With the paler hawkweeds, whose +edges are so delicately trimmed and cut and balanced, almost as if +made by cleft human fingers to human design, whose globes of down +are like geometrical circles built up of facets, instead of by one +revolution of the compasses. With foxglove, and dragon-fly, and +yellowing wheat; with green cones of fir, and boom of distant +thunder, and all things that say, 'It is summer.' Not many of them +even now, sometimes only two in the air together, sometimes three +or four, and one day eight, the very greatest number—a mere +handful, for these cave-swallows at such times should crowd the +sky. The white bars across their backs should be seen gliding +beside the dark fir copse a quarter of a mile away. They should be +seen everywhere, over the house, and to and fro the eaves, where +half last year's nest remains; over the meadows and high up in the +blue ether. White breasts should gleam in the azure height, +appearing and disappearing as they climb or sink, and wheel and +slide through those long boomerang-like flights that suddenly take +them a hundred yards aside. They should crowd the sky together with +the ruddy-throated chimney-swallows, and the great swifts; but +though it is hay-time and the apples are set, yet eight +eave-swallows is the largest number I have counted in one +afternoon. They did not come at all in the spring. After the heavy +winter cleared away, the delicate willow-wrens soon sang in the +tops of the beautiful green larches, the nightingale came, and the +cuckoo, the chimney-swallow, the doves softly cooing as the oaks +came into leaf, and the black swifts. Up to May 26 there were no +eave-swallows at the Sussex hill-side where these notes were taken; +that is more than a month later than the date of their usual +arrival, which would be about the middle of April. After this they +gradually came back. The chimney-swallows were not so late, but +even they are not so numerous as usual. The swifts seem to have +come more in their accustomed numbers. Now, the swallows are, of +all others, the summer birds. As well suppose the trees without +leaves as the summer air without swallows. Ever since of old time +the Greeks went round from house to house in spring singing the +swallow song, these birds have been looked upon as the friends of +man, and almost as the very givers of the sunshine.</p> +<pre> + The swallow's come, winging + His way to us here; + Fair hours is he bringing, + And a happy new year! +</pre> +They had a song for everything, the mill song, the reapers' song, +just as in Somerset, the apple country, they still have a cider +song, or perhaps, rather, an orchard song. Such rhymes might well +be chanted about the hay and the wheat, or at the coming of the +green leaf, or the yellowing of the acorns, when the cawing of the +rooks is incessant, a kind of autumn festival. It seems so natural +that the events of the year should be met with a song. But somehow +a very hard and unobservant spirit has got abroad into our rural +life, and people do not note things as the old folk did. They do +not mark the coming of the swallows, nor any of the dates that make +the woodland almanack. It is a pity that there should be such +indifference—that the harsh ways of the modern town should +press so heavily on the country. This summer, too, there seems a +marked absence of bees, butterflies, and other insects in the +fields. One bee will come along, calling at every head of white +clover. By-and-by you may see one more calling at the heathbells, +and nothing else, as in each journey they visit only the flower +with which they began. Then there will be quite an interval before +a third bee is seen, and a fourth may be found dead perhaps on the +path, besides which you may not notice any more. For a whole hour +you may not observe a humble-bee, and the wasp-like hover-flies, +that are generally past all thought of counting, are scarcely seen. +A blue butterfly we found in the dust of the road, without the +spirit to fly, and lifted him into a field to let him have a chance +of life; a few tortoiseshells, and so on—even the white +butterflies are quite uncommon, the whites that used to drift along +like snowflakes. Where are they all? Did the snow kill them? Is +there any connection between the absence of insects and the absence +of swallows? If so, how did the swallows know beforehand, without +coming, that there were no insects for them? Yet the midsummer hum, +the deep humming sound in the atmosphere above, has been loud and +persistent over the hayfields, so that there must have been the +usual myriads of the insects that cause this sound. While I was +thinking in this way a swallow alighted on the turf, picked up a +small white moth from among the short grass, and went off with it. +In gloomy overcast weather the swallows at the sea-side frequently +alight on the pebbles of the beach to pick up the insects which +will not rise and fly. Some beaches and sandbanks are much +frequented by insects, and black clouds of them sometimes come +drifting along, striking the face like small hail.<br> +<br> + +<p>When swallows fly low, just skimming the ground, it is supposed +to be a sign of rain. During the frequent intervals of heavy, +overcast weather which have marked this summer, they might have +been observed flying low for a week together without a spot of rain +falling. Chilly air drives insects downwards, and, indeed, +paralyses a great many of them altogether. It is a fall of +temperature, and not wet, that makes the swallows chase their prey +low down. Insects are not much afraid of rain if it is warm and +soft, so that in the midst of showers, if there is sunshine too, +you may see the swallows high in the atmosphere. It is when they +fly low, but just missing the grass, that their wonderful powers of +flight appear. In the air above there are no obstacles, and if you +shoot an arrow it travels to the end of its journey without let or +hindrance; there are no streets there to turn corners, no narrow +lanes, no trees or hedges. When the shallow comes down to the earth +his path is no longer that of the immortals, his way is as the way +of men, constantly obstructed, and made a thousandfold more +difficult by the velocity of his passage. Imagine shooting an arrow +from the strongest bow in such a manner that it might travel about +seven inches above the ground—how far would it go before it +would strike a tall buttercup, a wiry bennet, or stick into a +slight rise of the turf? You must imagine it given the power to +rise over hedges, to make short angles about buildings, slip +between the trunks of trees, to avoid moving objects, as men or +animals, not to come in contact with other animated arrows, and by +some mysterious instinct to know what is or what is not out of +sight on the other side of the wall. I was sitting on a log in the +narrowest of narrow lanes, a hedge at the back, in front thick fir +trees, whose boughs touched the ground, almost within reach, the +lane being nothing more than a broader footpath. It was one of +those overcast days when the shelter of the hedge and the furze was +pleasant in July. Suddenly a swallow slid by me as it seemed +underneath my very hands, so close to the ground that he almost +travelled in the rut, the least movement on my part would have +stopped him. Almost before I could lift my head he had reached the +end of the lane and rose over the gate into the road—not a +moments pause before he made that leap over the gate to see if +there was a waggon or not in the way; a waggon-load of hay would +have blocked the road entirely. How did he know that a man or a +horse would not step into his course at the instant he topped the +bar?</p> +<p>A swallow never hesitates, never looks before he leaps, threads +all day the eyes of needles, and goes on from half-past two in the +morning till ten at night, without so much as disturbing a feather. +He is the perfection of a machine for falling. His round nest is +under the eaves, he throws himself out of window and begins to +fall, and keeps on fall, fall, for twenty hours together. His head +is bullet-shaped, his neck short, his body all thickened up to the +shoulders, tailing out to the merest streak of feather. His form is +like a plummet—he is not unlike the heavily weighted minnow +used in trolling for pike. Before the bend of the firmly elastic +rod, the leaded minnow slides out through the air, running true and +sinking without splash into the water. It is proportioned and +weighted so that its flight, which is a long fall, may be smooth, +and perfectly under control. If wings could be put to the minnow, +it would somewhat resemble the swallow. For the swallow is made to +fall, and his wings to catch him, and by resisting his descent +these outstretched planes lift him again into the sky. He does not +fall perpendicularly, the angle of his fall is prolonged and very +low, and the swifter he goes the more nearly it approximates to the +horizontal. I think he goes swifter when flying just over the +ground than when lounging in the easy hammock of the atmosphere. My +swallow that came down the lane, in twenty yards opened his wings +twenty times and checked his fall, almost grazing the earth, and +imperceptibly rose a little, like a flat stone thrown by a boy +which suddenly runs up into the air at the end of its flight. He +made no blow with his wings; they were simply put out to collect +the air in the hollow of their curves, and so prolong his fall. +Falling from morn till night, he throws himself on his way, a +machine for turning gravity into a motive force. He fits to the +circumstances of his flight as water fits to the circumstances of +the vessel into which it is poured. No thought, no stop, no rest. +If a waggon had been in the way, still he would have got left or +right through the very eye of the needle. If a man had been +passing, the rush of his wings would not have disturbed the light +smoke from his cigar. Farther up the lane there are two gateways +opposite without gates. Through these swallows are continually +dashing, and I have often felt when coming up the lane as if I must +step on them, and half checked myself. I might as well try to step +on lightning. A swallow came over the sharp ridge of a slate roof +and met a slight current of wind which blew against that side of +the shed and rose up it. The bird remained there suspended with +outstretched wings, resting on the up-current as if the air had +been solid, for some moments. He rode there at anchor in the air. +So buoyant is the swallow that it is no more to him to fly than it +is to the fish to swim; and, indeed, I think that a trout in a +swift mountain stream needs much greater strength to hold himself +in the rapid day and night without rest. The friction of the water +is constant against him, and he never folds his fins and sleeps. +The more I think the more I am convinced that the buoyancy of the +air is very far greater than science admits, and under certain +conditions it is superior to water as a supporting medium. Swift +and mobile as is the swallow's wing, how much swifter and how much +more mobile must be his eye! This rapid and ever-changing course is +not followed for pleasure as if it were a mazy dance. The whole +time as he floats, and glides, and wheels, his eye is intent on +insects so small as to be invisible to us at a very short distance. +These he gathers in the air, he sees what we cannot see, his eyes +are to our eyes as his wings are to our limbs. If still further we +were to consider the flow of the nerve force between the eye, the +mind, and the wing, we should be face to face with problems which +quite upset the ordinary ideas of matter as a solid thing. How is +it that dull matter becomes thus inexpressibly sensitive? Is not +the swallow's eye a miracle? Then his heart, for he sings as he +flies; he makes love and converses, and all as he rushes +along—his hopes, his fears, his little store of knowledge, +and his wonderful journey by-and-by to Africa. Remember, he carries +his life in his wings as we should say in our hands, for if by +chance he should strike a solid object, his great speed renders the +collision certain death. It stuns him, and if he recovers from that +his beak is usually broken so that he must starve. Happily such +accidents are rare. The great rapidity of a bird's heart beating so +fast seems to render it peculiarly susceptible to death from shock. +Great fright will sometimes kill a bird, as for instance, when they +have wandered inside a room, and been thoughtlessly held in some +one's hand. Without visible injury, the heart, after beating +excessively violently, almost as rapidly slows, the nictitating +membrane is drawn over the eyes, the head falls to one side, and +the bird becomes lifeless from nervous exhaustion. The beautiful +swallows, be tender to them, for they symbol all that is best in +nature and all that is best in our hearts.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="8">BUCKHURST PARK.</a></h3> +<p>An old beech tree had been broken off about five feet from the +ground, and becoming hollow within, was filled with the decay of +its own substance. In this wood-sorrel had taken root, and flower +and leaf covered the space within, white flower and green leaf +flourishing on old age. The wood-sorrel leaf, the triune leaf, is +perhaps more lovely even than the flower, like a more delicately +shaped clover of a tenderer green, and it lasts far on into the +autumn. When the violet leaves are no more looked for, when the +cowslips have gone, and the bluebells have left nothing behind them +but their nodding seed-cases, still the wood-sorrel leaf stays on +the mound, in shape and colour the same, and as pleasantly acid to +the taste now under the ripening nuts as in May. At its coming it +is folded almost like a. green flower; at Midsummer, when you are +gathering ferns, you find its trefoil deep under the boughs; it +grows, too, in the crevices of the rock over the spring. The +whortleberry leaves, that were green as the myrtle when the +wood-sorrel was in bloom, have faded somewhat now that their +berries are ripening. Another beech has gone over, and lies at full +length, a shattered tube, as it were, of timber; for it is so +rotten within, and so hollow and bored, it is little else than +bark. Others that stand are tubes on end, with rounded knot-holes, +loved by the birds, that let air and moisture into the very heart +of the wood. They are hardly safe in a strong wind. Others again, +very large and much shorter, have sent up four trunks from one +root, a little like a banyan, quadruple trees built for centuries, +throwing abroad a vast roof of foliage, whose green in the midst of +summer is made brown by sacks and sacks of beech nuts. These are +the trees to camp by, and that are chosen by painters. The bark of +the beech is itself a panel to study, spotted with velvet moss +brown-green, made grey with close-grown lichen, stained with its +own hues of growth, and toned by time. To these add bright sunlight +and leaf shadow, the sudden lowering of tint as a cloud passes, the +different aspects of the day and the evening, and the changes of +rain and dry weather. You may look at the bark of a beech twenty +times and always find it different. After crossing Virgil's Bridge +in the deep coombe at the bottom of Marden Hill these great beeches +begin, true woodland trees, and somehow more forest-like than the +hundreds and hundreds of acres of fir trees that are called forest. +There is another spirit among the beech trees; they look like deer +and memories of old English life.</p> +<p>The wood cooper follows his trade in a rude shed, splitting +poles and making hoops the year through, in warm summer and +iron-clad winter. His shed is always pitched at the edge of a great +woodland district. Where the road has worn in deeply the roots of +the beeches hang over, twisted in and out like a giant matting, a +kind of cave under them. Dark yew trees and holly trees stand here +and there; a yew is completely barked on one side, stripped clean. +If you look close you will see scores in the wood as if made with a +great nail. Those who know Exmoor will recognise these signs in a +moment; it is a fraying-post where the stags rubbed the velvet from +their horns last summer. There are herds of red deer in the park. +At one time there were said to be almost as many as run free and +wild over the expanse of Exmoor. They mark the trees very much, +especially those with the softer bark. Wire fencing has been put +round many of the hollies to protect them. A stag occasionally +leaps the boundary and forages among the farmers' corn, or visits a +garden, and then the owner can form some idea of what must have +been the difficulties of agriculture in mediæval days. Deer +more than double the interest of a park. A park without deer is +like a wall without pictures. However well proportioned the room, +something is lacking if the walls be blank. However noble the oaks +and wide the sweep of sward, there is something wanting if antlers +do not rise above the fern. The pictures that the deer make are +moving and alive; they dissolve and re-form in a distant frame of +tree and brake. Lately the herd has been somewhat thinned, having +become too numerous. One slope is bare of grass, a patch of yellow +sand, which if looked at intently from a distance seems presently +to be all alive like mites in cheese, so thick are the rabbits in +the warren. Under a little house, as it were, built over a stream +is a chalybeate fountain with virtues like those of Tunbridge +Wells.</p> +<p>The park is open to visitors—here comes a gay four-in-hand +heavily loaded sweeping by on its road to that summer town. There +is much ironstone in the soil round about. At the edge of the park +stands an old farmhouse of timber and red tile, with red oast-house +beside it, built with those gables which our ancestors seemed to +think made such excellent rooms within. Our modern architects try +to make their rooms mathematically square, a series of brick boxes, +one on the other like pigeon-holes in a bureau, with flat ceilings +and right angles in the corners, and are said to go through a +profound education before they can produce these wonderful +specimens of art. If our old English folk could not get an arched +roof, then they loved to have it pointed, with polished timber +beams in which the eye rested as in looking upwards through a tree. +Their rooms they liked of many shapes, and not at right angles in +the corners, nor all on the same dead level of flooring. You had to +go up a step into one, and down a step into another, and along a +winding passage into a third, so that each part of the house had +its individuality. To these houses life fitted itself and grew to +them; they were not mere walls, but became part of existence. A +man's house was not only his castle, a man's house was himself. He +could not tear himself away from his house, it was like tearing up +the shrieking mandrake by the root, almost death itself. Now we +walk in and out of our brick boxes unconcerned whether we live in +this villa or that, here or yonder. Dark beams inlaid in the walls +support the gables; heavier timber, placed horizontally, forms, as +it were, the foundation of the first floor. This horizontal beam +has warped a little in the course of time, the alternate heat and +cold of summers and winters that make centuries. Up to this beam +the lower wall is built of brick set to the curve of the timber, +from which circumstance it would appear to be a modern insertion. +The beam, we may be sure, was straight originally, and the bricks +have been fitted to the curve which it subsequently took. Time, no +doubt, ate away the lower work of wood, and necessitated the +insertion of new materials. The slight curve of the great beam +adds, I think, to the interest of the old place, for it is a curve +that has grown and was not premeditated; it has grown like the +bough of a tree, not from any set human design. This, too, is the +character of the house. It is not large, nor overburdened with +gables, not ornamental, nor what is called striking, in any way, +but simply an old English house, genuine and true. The warm +sunlight falls on the old red tiles, the dark beams look the darker +for the glow of light, the shapely cone of the hop-oast rises at +the end; there are swallows and flowers, and ricks and horses, and +so it is beautiful because it is natural and honest. It is the +simplicity that makes it so touching, like the words of an old +ballad. Now at Mayfield there is a timber house which is something +of a show place, and people go to see it, and which certainly has +many more lines in its curves and woodwork, but yet did not appeal +to me, because it seemed too purposely ornamental. A house designed +to look well, even age has not taken from it its artificiality. +Neither is there any cone nor cart-horses about. Why, even a tall +chanticleer makes a home look homely. I do like to see a tall proud +chanticleer strutting in the yard and barely giving way as I +advance, almost ready to do battle with a stranger like a mastiff. +So I prefer the simple old home by Buckhurst Park.</p> +<p>The beeches and oaks become fewer as the ground rises, there are +wide spaces of bracken and little woods or copses, every one of +which is called a 'shaw.' Then come the firs, whose crowded spires, +each touching each, succeed for miles, and cover the hill-side with +a solid mass of green. They seem so close together, so thickened +and matted, impenetrable to footsteps, like a mound of earth rather +than woods, a solid block of wood; but there are ways that wind +through and space between the taller trunks when you come near. The +odour of firs is variable; sometimes it fills the air, sometimes it +is absent altogether, and doubtless depends upon certain conditions +of the atmosphere. A very small pinch of the fresh shoot is +pleasant to taste; these shoots, eaten constantly, were once +considered to cure chest disease, and to this day science +endeavours by various forms of inhalations from fir products to +check that malady. Common rural experience, as with the cow-pox, +has often laid the basis of medical treatment. Certain it is that +it is extremely pleasant and grateful to breathe the sweet +fragrance of the fir deep in the woods, listening to the soft +caressing sound of the wind that passes high overhead. The +willow-wren sings, but his voice and that of the wind seem to give +emphasis to the holy and meditative silence. The mystery of nature +and life hover about the columned temple of the forest. The secret +is always behind a tree, as of old time it was always behind the +pillar of the temple. Still higher, and as the firs cease, and +shower and sunshine, wind and dew, can reach the ground unchecked, +comes the tufted heath and branched heather of the moorland top. A +thousand acres of purple heath sloping southwards to the sun, deep +valleys of dark heather; further slopes beyond of purple, more +valleys of heather—the heath shows more in the sunlight, and +heather darkens the shadow of the hollows—and so on and on, +mile after mile, till the heath-bells seem to end in the sunset. +Round and beyond is the immense plain of the air—-you feel +how limitless the air is at this height, for there is nothing to +measure it by. Past the weald lie the South Downs, but they form no +boundary, the plain of the air goes over them to the sea and +space.</p> +<p>This wild tract of Ashdown Forest bears much resemblance to +Exmoor; you may walk, or you may ride, for hours and meet no one; +and if black game were to start up it would not surprise you in the +least. There seems room enough to chase the red stag from Buckhurst +Park with horn and hound till, mayhap, he ended in the sea at +Pevensey. Buckhurst Park is the centre of this immense manor. Of +old time the deer did run wild, and were hunted till the pale was +broken in the great Civil War. The 'Forest' is still in every one's +mouth—'on the Forest,' 'by the Forest,' 'in' it, or 'over' +it, everything comes from the 'Forest,' even stone to mend the +roads, or 'through the Forest,' as up from Brighton. People say +this farm used to be forest, or this garden or this house was the +first built on the forest. The enclosures are small, and look as if +they had been hewn out of wood or stubbed out of heather, and there +are numbers of small owners or settlers. Here and there a house +stands, as it seems, alone in the world on the Forest ridge, +thousands of acres of heather around, the deep weald +underneath—as at Duddleswell, a look-out, as it were, over +the earth. Forest Row, where they say the courtiers had their +booths in ancient hunting days; Forest Fold, Boar's-head Street, +Greenwood Gate—all have a forest sound; and what prettier +name could there be than Sweet-Haws? Greybirchet Wood, again; +Mossbarn, Highbroom, and so on. Outlying woods in every direction +are fragments of the forest, you cannot get away from it; and look +over whatever gate you will, there is always a view. In the vale, +if you look over a gate you only see that field and nothing beyond; +the view is bounded by the opposite hedge. Here there is always a +deep coombe, or the top of a wood underneath, or a rising slope, or +a distant ridge crowned with red-tiled farmstead, red-coned +oast-house, and tall spruce firs. Or far away, miles and miles, the +fields of the weald pushed close together by distance till in a +surface no larger than the floor of a room there are six or seven +farms and a village. Clouds drift over; it is a wonderful +observatory for cloud studies; they seem so close, the light is so +strong, and there is nothing to check the sight as far as its +powers will reach. Clouds come up no wider than a pasture-field, +but in length stretching out to the very horizon, dividing the blue +sky into two halves; but then every day has its different +clouds—the fleets of heaven that are always sailing on and +know no haven.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="9">HOUSE-MARTINS.</a></h3> +<p>Of five houses, a stable, and chapel wall, much frequented by +martins, the aspects were as follows:—House No. 1, nests on +the north side, south side, and east, both the south and east very +warm; No. 2, on the south and east walls—these walls met in +an angle, and as it were enclosed the sunbeams, making it very +heated sometimes; No. 3, on the south and west walls, the warmest +sides of the building; No. 4, all along under the southern eaves, a +very warm wall; No. 5, also under the southern eaves, and not +elsewhere. The stable fronted south; there were nests front and +back, north and south; the chapel eave that was frequented faced +towards the west. In the case of several other houses the nests +were on the sunny side; but I am not so well acquainted with the +localities. So far as my observation goes, I think the +house-martin—with all the swallow tribe—prefers warmth, +and, if possible, chooses the sunny side of a building. A +consideration, however, that weighs much with this bird is the +character of the take-off; he likes a space immediately in front of +his nest, free of trees or other obstructions, so that when rushing +out from his little doorway he may not strike against anything. For +ages it has also been remarked that the house-martin likes the +proximity of man, and will build by choice in or over a porch or +doorway, whether of house or stable, or over a +window—somewhere where man is about. It is curious that in +this country, so subject to cold and cold winds, so many houses are +built to face north or east, and this fact often compels the +house-martin to build that side, the back of a house being +frequently obstructed. In the case of house No. 1 there was a clear +take-off on the north side, also with the stable. Houses are +generally built to face the road, quite irrespective of the aspect, +which custom is the origin of many cheerless dwellings. I think +that house-martin fledglings and eggs are capable of enduring the +utmost heat of our English summer, and the nests found deserted +were abandoned for some other reason. More likely that the +deficiency of insect food caused by the inclement weather weakened +the parent. Sometimes these harmless and useful birds are cruelly +shot. I have never seen a nest injured by heats; on the contrary, I +should imagine that heat would cause the mortar to cohere more +firmly, and that damp would be much more likely to make it unsafe. +At house No. 2 the heat in the angle of the two walls was scarcely +bearable on a July day. If a nest were taken down and put in an +oven I should doubt if it would crack. In nature, however, +everything depends on locality. The roads in that locality were +mended with flint, and the mortar from puddles appeared to make +good cement. Possibly in some districts there may be no lime or +silicon, and the mortar the birds use may be less adherent. The +more one studies nature the more one becomes convinced that it is +an error to suppose things proceed by a regular rule always +applicable everywhere. All creatures change their habits with +circumstances; consequently no observation can be accepted as +final.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="10">AMONG THE NUTS.</a></h3> +<p>The nuts are ripening once more, and it is almost the time to go +a-gipsying—the summer passes like the shadow of a cloud which +strikes the edge of the yellow wheat and comes over and is gone; it +does not give you time to rub out a single ear of corn. Before it +is possible to gather the harvest of thought and observation the +summer has passed, and we must bind the hastily stitched book with +the crimson leaves of autumn. Under these very hazel boughs only +yesterday, <i>i.e.</i> in May, looking for cuckoo-sorrel, as the +wood-sorrel is called, there rolled down a brown last year's nut +from among the moss of the bank. In the side of this little brown +nut, at its thicker end, a round hole had been made with a sharp +tool which had left the marks of its chiselling. Through this hole +the kernel had been extracted by the skilful mouse. Two more nuts +were found on the same bank, bored by the same carpenter. The holes +looked as if he had turned the nut round and round as he gnawed. +Unless the nut had shrunk, the hole was not large enough to pull +the kernel out all at once; it must have been eaten little by +little in many mouthfuls. The same amount of nibbling would have +sawn a circle round the nut, and so, dividing the shell in two, +would have let the kernel out bodily—a plan more to our +fancy; but the mouse is a nibbler, and he preferred to nibble, +nibble, nibble. Hard by one afternoon, as the cows were lazily +swishing their tails coming home to milking, and the shadow of the +thick hedge had already caused the anemones in the grass to close +their petals, there was a slight rustling sound. Out into the cool +grass by some cowslips there came a small dark head. It was an +adder, verily a snake in the grass and flowers. His quick +eye—you know the proverb, 'If his ear were as quick as his +eye, No man should pass him by'—caught sight of us +immediately, and he turned back. The hedge was hollow there, and +the mound grown over with close-laid, narrow-leaved ivy. The viper +did not sink in these leaves, but slid with a rustling sound fully +exposed above them. His grey length and the chain of black diamond +spots down his back, his flat head with deadly tooth, did not +harmonise as the green snake does with leaf and grass. He was too +marked, too prominent—a venomous foreign thing, fit for +tropic sands and nothing English or native to our wilds. He seemed +like a reptile that had escaped from the glass case of some +collection.</p> +<p>The green snake or grass snake, with yellow-marked head, fits in +perfectly with the floating herbage of the watery places he +frequents. The eye soon grows accustomed to his curves, till he is +no more startling than a frog among the water-crowfoot you are +about to gather. To the adder the mind never becomes habituated; he +ever remains repellent. This adder was close to a house and +cowshed, and, indeed, they seem to like to be near cows. Since then +a large silvery slowworm was killed just there—a great pity, +for they are perfectly harmless. We saw, too, a very large lizard +under the heath. Three little effets (efts) ran into one hole on +the bank yesterday. Some of the men in spring went off into the +woods to 'flawing,' <i>i.e.</i> to barking the oak which is thrown +in May—the bark is often used now for decoration, like the +Spanish cork bark. Some were talking already of the 'grit' work and +looking forward to it, that is, to mowing and haymaking, which mean +better wages. The farmers were grumbling that their oats were +cuckoo oats, not sown till the cuckoo cried, and not likely to come +to much. So, indeed, it fell out, for the oats looked very thin and +spindly when the nuts turned rosy again. At work hoeing among the +'kelk' or 'kilk,' the bright yellow charlock, the labourers stood +up as the cuckoo flew over singing, and blew cuckoo back to him in +their hollow fists. This is a trick they have, something like +whistling in the fist, and so naturally done as to deceive any one. +The children had been round with the May garland, which takes the +place of the May-pole, and is carried slung on a stick, and covered +with a white cloth, between two little girls. The cloth is to keep +the dust and sun from spoiling the flowers—the rich golden +kingcups and the pale anemones trained about two hoops, one within +the other. They take the cloth off to show you the garland, and +surely you must pay them a penny for thought of old England. Yet +there are some who would like to spoil this innocent festival. I +have heard of some wealthy people living in a village who do their +utmost to break up the old custom by giving presents of money to +all the poor children who will go to school on that day instead of +a-Maying. A very pitiful thing truly! Give them the money, and let +them go a-Maying as well. The same bribe they repeat at Christmas +to stay the boys from going round mumming. It is in spring that the +folk make most use of herbs, such as herb tea of gorse bloom. One +cottage wife exclaimed that she had no patience with women so +ignorant they did not know how to use herbs, as wood-sage or +wood-betony. Most of the gardens have a few plants of the +milky-veined holy thistle—good, they say, against +inflammations, and in which they have much faith. Soon after the +May garlands the meadow orchis comes up, which is called 'dead +men's hands,' and after that the 'ram's-horn' orchis, which has a +twisted petal; and in the evening the bat, which they call +flittermouse, appears again.</p> +<p>The light is never the same on a landscape many minutes +together, as all know who have tried, ever so crudely, to fix the +fleeting expression of the earth with pencil. It is ever changing, +and in the same way as you walk by the hedges day by day there is +always some fresh circumstance of nature, the interest of which in +a measure blots out the past. This morning we found a bramble leaf, +something about which has for the moment put the record of months +aside. This bramble leaf was marked with a grey streak, which +coiled and turned and ran along beside the midrib, forming a sort +of thoughtless design, a design without an idea. The Greek fret +seems to our eyes in its regularity and its repetition to have a +human thought in it. The coils and turns upon this leaf, like many +other markings of nature, form a designless design, the idea of +which is not traceable back to a mind. They are the work of a +leaf-boring larva which has eaten its way between the two skins of +the leaf, much like boring a tunnel between the two surfaces of a +sheet of paper. If you take a needle you can insert the point in +the burrow and pass it along wherever the bore is straight, so that +the needle lies between the to sides of the leaf. Off-hand, if any +one were asked if it were possible to split a leaf, he would say +no. This little creature, however, has worked along inside it, and +lived there. The upper surface of the leaf is a darker green, and +seems to the touch of firmer texture than the lower; there are no +marks on the under surface, which does not seem touched, so that +what the creature has really done is to split one surface. He has +eaten along underneath it, raising it no doubt a little by the +thickness of his body, as if you crept between the carpet and the +floor. The softer under surface representing the floor is +untouched. The woodbine leaves are often bored like this, and seem +to have patterns traced upon them. There is no particle of matter +so small but that it seems to have a living thing working at it and +resolving it into still more minute atoms; nothing so insignificant +but that upon examination it will be found to be of the utmost +value to something alive. Upon almost every fir branch near the end +there are little fragments like cotton, so thick in places as to +quite hang the boughs with threads; these gossamer-like fragments +appear to be left by some insect, perhaps an aphis; and it is +curious to note how very very busy the little willow-wrens are in +the fir boughs. They are constantly at work there; they sing in the +firs in the earliest spring, they stay there all the summer, and +now that the edge of autumn approaches their tiny beaks are still +picking up insects the whole day long. The insects they devour must +be as numerous as the fir needles that lie inches thick on the +ground in the copse.</p> +<p>Across a broad, dry, sandy path, worn firm, some thousands of +ants passing to and fro their nest had left a slight trail. They +were hurrying on in full work, when I drew the top of my +walking-stick across their road, obliterating about an inch of it. +In an instant the work of the nest was stopped, and thousands upon +thousands of factory hands were thrown out of employment. The +walking-stick had left two little ridges of sand like minute +parallel earthworks drawn across their highway. Those that came out +of the nest on arriving at the little ridge on their side +immediately stopped, worked their antennae in astonishment, then +went up to the top of it, and seemed to try to look round. After a +moment they ran back and touched those that were coming on to +communicate the intelligence. Every ant that came did exactly the +same thing; not one of them passed the little ridge, but all +returned. By-and-by the head of the column began to spread out and +search right and left for the lost track. They scouted this way and +they scouted that, they turned and doubled and went through every +possible evolution, hundreds of them, sometimes a score at once, +yet not one of them attempted to go straight forward, which would +have brought them into their old path. It was scarcely thrice the +length of an ant's body to where their path began again; they could +not see or scent, or in any way find out what was so short a +distance in front of them. The most extraordinary thing was that +not one ventured to explore straight forward; it was as if their +world came to an end at that little ridge, and they were afraid to +step into chaos. The same actions were going on behind the other +ridge of sand just opposite, an inch away. There the column of ants +that had been out foraging was met with a like difficulty, and +could not find their way. There, too, hundreds of ants were +exploring right and left in every direction except straight +forward, in a perfect buzz of excitement. Once or twice an ant from +either party happened to mount on the parallel ridges at the same +time, and if they had strained forward and stretched out their +antennae they could have almost touched each other. Yet they seemed +quite unconscious of each other's presence. Unless in a well-worn +groove a single ant appears incapable of running in a straight +line. At first their motions searching about suggested the action +of a pack of hounds making a cast; hounds, however, would have very +soon gone forward and so picked up the trail.</p> +<p>If I may make a guess at the cause of this singular confusion, I +think I should attribute it to some peculiarity in the brain of the +ant, or else to some consideration of which we are ignorant, but +which weighs with ants, and not to any absence of the physical +senses. Because they do not do as we should do under similar +circumstances is no proof that they do not possess the power to +hear and see. Experiments, for instance, have been made with bees +to find out if they have any sense of hearing, by shouting close to +a bee, drawing discordant notes on the violin, striking pieces of +metal together, and so on, to all of which the bee remained +indifferent. What else could she do? Neither of these sounds hurt +if she heard them, nor seemed to threaten danger; they simply +conveyed no impression at all to her mind. Observe your favourite +pussy curled up in the arm-chair at such time as she knows the +dishes have been cleared away, and there is no more chance of +wheedling a titbit from you. You may play the piano, or the violin, +or knock with a hammer, or shout your loudest, she will take no +notice, no more than if she actually had no ears at all. Are you, +therefore, to conclude she does not hear you? As well conclude that +people do not hear the thunder because they do not shout in answer +to it. Such noises simply do not concern her, and she takes no +notice. Now, though her eyes be closed, let a strange dog run in, +and at the light pad pad of his feet, scarcely audible on the +carpet, she is up in a moment, blazing with wrath. That is a sound +that interests her. So, too, perhaps, it may be with ants and bees, +who may hear and see, and yet take no apparent notice because the +circumstances are not interesting, and the experiment is to them +unintelligible. Fishes in particular have been often, I think, +erroneously judged in this way, and have been considered deaf, and +to have little intelligence, while in truth the fact is we have not +discovered a way of communicating with them any more than they have +found a way of talking with us. Fishes, I know, are keener of sight +than I am when they are interested, and I believe they can hear +equally well, and are not by any means without mind. These ants +that acted so foolishly to appearance may have been influenced by +some former experience of which we know nothing; there may be +something in the past history of the ant which may lead them to +profoundly suspect interference with their path as indicative of +extreme danger. Once, perhaps, many ant-generations ago, there was +some creature which acted thus in order to destroy them. This, of +course, is merely an illustration put forward to suggest the idea +that there may be a reason in the brain of the ant of which we know +nothing. I do not know that I myself am any more rational, for +looking back along the path of life I can see now how I turned and +twisted and went to the right and the left in the most crooked +manner, putting myself to endless trouble, when by taking one +single step straight forward in the right direction, if I had only +known, I might have arrived at once at the goal. Can any of us look +beyond the little ridge of one day and see what will happen the day +after? Some hours afterwards, towards evening, I found the ants +were beginning to get over their difficulty. On one side an ant +would go forward in a half-circle, on the other another ant would +advance sideways, and meeting together they would touch their +antennae, and then the first would travel back with the second, and +so the line was reestablished. It was very much as if two batsmen +at opposite wickets should run forward each halfway, and after +shaking hands and conversing, one of them should lead the other +safely over.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="11">WALKS IN THE WHEAT-FIELDS.</a></h3> +<h4 align="center">I.</h4> +<p>If you will look at a grain of wheat you will see that it seems +folded up: it has crossed its arms and rolled itself up in a cloak, +a fold of which forms a groove, and so gone to sleep. If you look +at it some time, as people in the old enchanted days used to look +into a mirror, or the magic ink, until they saw living figures +therein, you can almost trace a miniature human being in the oval +of the grain. It is narrow at the top, where the head would be, and +broad across the shoulders, and narrow again down towards the feet; +a tiny man or woman has wrapped itself round about with a garment +and settled to slumber. Up in the far north, where the dead ice +reigns, our arctic explorers used to roll themselves in a +sleeping-bag like this, to keep the warmth in their bodies against +the chilliness of the night. Down in the south, where the heated +sands of Egypt never cool, there in the rock-hewn tombs lie the +mummies wrapped and lapped and wound about with a hundred yards of +linen, in the hope, it may be, that spices and balm might retain +within the sarcophagus some small fragment of human organism +through endless ages, till at last the gift of life revisited it. +Like a grain of wheat the mummy is folded in its cloth. And I do +not know really whether I might not say that these little grains of +English corn do not hold within them the actual flesh and blood of +man. Transubstantiation is a fact there.</p> +<p>Sometimes the grains are dry and shrivelled and hard as shot, +sometimes they are large and full and have a juiciness about them, +sometimes they are a little bit red, others are golden, many white. +The sack stands open in the market—you can thrust your arm in +it a foot deep, or take up a handful and let it run back like a +liquid stream, or hold it in your palm and balance it, feeling the +weight. They are not very heavy as they lie in the palm, yet these +little grains are a ponderous weight that rules man's world. +Wherever they are there is empire. Could imperial Rome have only +grown sufficient wheat in Italy to have fed her legions Cæsar +would still be master of three-fourths of the earth. Rome thought +more in her latter days of grapes and oysters and mullets, that +change colour as they die, and singing girls and flute-playing, and +cynic verse of Horace—anything rather than corn. Rome is no +more, and the lords of the world are they who have mastership of +wheat. We have the mastership at this hour by dint of our gold and +our hundred-ton guns, but they are telling our farmers to cast +aside their corn, and to grow tobacco and fruit and anything else +that can be thought of in preference. The gold is slipping away. +These sacks in the market open to all to thrust their hands in are +not sacks of corn but of golden sovereigns, half-sovereigns, new +George and the dragon, old George and the dragon, Sydney mint +sovereigns, Napoleons, half-Napoleons, Belgian gold, German gold, +Italian gold; gold scraped and scratched and gathered together like +old rags from door to door. Sacks full of gold, verily I may say +that all the gold poured out from the Australian fields, every +pennyweight of it, hundreds of tons, all shipped over the sea to +India, Australia, South Africa, Egypt, and, above all, America, to +buy wheat. It was said that Pompey and his sons covered the great +earth with their bones, for each one died in a different quarter of +the world; but now he would want two more sons for Australia and +America, the two new quarters which are now at work ploughing, +sowing, reaping, without a month's intermission, growing corn for +us. When you buy a bag of flour at the baker's you pay fivepence +over the counter, a very simple transaction. Still you do not +expect to get even that little bag of flour for nothing, your +fivepence goes over the counter in somebody else's till. Consider +now the broad ocean as the counter and yourself to represent +thirty-five millions of English people buying sixteen, seventeen, +or eighteen million quarters of wheat from the nations opposite, +and paying for it shiploads of gold.</p> +<p>So that these sacks of corn in the market are truly filled with +gold dust; and how strange it seems at first that our farmers, who +are for ever dabbling with their hands in these golden sands, +should be for ever grumbling at their poverty! 'The nearer the +church the farther from God' is an old country proverb; the nearer +to wheat the farther from mammon, I may construct as an addendum. +Quite lately a gentleman told me that while he grew wheat on his +thousand acres he lost just a pound an acre per annum, <i>i.e.</i> +a thousand a year out of capital, so that if he had not happily +given up this amusement he would now have been in the workhouse +munching the putty there supplied for bread.</p> +<p>The rag and bone men go from door to door filling an old bag +with scraps of linen, and so innumerable agents of bankers and +financiers, vampires that suck gold, are for ever prowling about +collecting every golden coin they can scent out and shipping it +over sea. And what does not go abroad is in consequence of this +great drain sharply locked up in the London safes as reserves +against paper, and cannot be utilised in enterprises or +manufacture. Therefore trade stands still, and factories are +closed, and ship-yards are idle, and beautiful vessels are stored +up doing nothing by hundreds in dock; coal mines left to be filled +with water, and furnaces blown out. Therefore there is bitter +distress and starvation, and cries for relief works, and one meal a +day for Board school children, and the red flag of Socialism is +unfurled. All because of these little grains of wheat.</p> +<p>They talked of bringing artillery, with fevered lips, to roar +forth shrapnel in Trafalgar Square; why not Gatling guns? The +artillery did not come for very shame, but the Guards did, and +there were regiments of infantry in the rear, with glittering +bayonets to prod folk into moving on. All about these little grains +of wheat.</p> +<p>These thoughts came into my mind in the winter afternoon at the +edge of a level corn-field, with the copper-sheathed spire of the +village church on my right, the sun going down on the left. The +copper did not gleam, it was dull and brown, no better than +discoloured wood, patched with pieces of later date and another +shade of dulness. I wish they would glitter, some of these steeples +or some of our roofs, and so light up the reddish brown of the elms +and the grey lichened oaks. The very rooks are black, and the +starlings and the wintry fieldfares and redwings have no colour at +a distance. They say the metal roofs and domes gleam in Russia, and +even in France, and why not in our rare sunshine? Once now and then +you see a gilded weathercock shine like a day-star as the sun goes +down three miles away, over the dark brown field, where the plough +has been going to and fro through the slow hours. I can see the +plough and the horses very well at three miles, and know what they +are doing.</p> +<p>I wish the trees, the elms, would grow tall enough and thick +enough to hide the steeples and towers which stand up so stiff and +stark, and bare and cold, some of them blunted and squab, some of +them sharp enough to impale, with no more shape than a +walking-stick, ferrule upwards—every one of them out of +proportion and jarring to the eye. If by good fortune you can find +a spot where you cannot see a steeple or a church tower, where you +can see only fields and woods, you will find it so much more +beautiful, for nature has made it of its kind perfect. The dim sea +is always so beautiful a view because it is not disfigured by these +buildings. In the ships men live; in the houses among the trees +they live; these steeples and towers are empty, and no spirit can +dwell in that which is out of proportion. Scarcely any one can +paint a picture of the country without sticking in one of these +repellent structures. The oast-houses, whose red cones are so +plentiful in Kent and Sussex, have quite a different effect; they +have some colour, and by a curious felicity the builders have hit +upon a good proportion, so that the shape is pleasant; these, too, +have some use in the world.</p> +<p>Westward the sun was going down over the sea, and a wild west +wind, which the glow of the sun as it touched the waves seemed to +heat into fury, brought up the distant sound of the billows from +the beach. A line of dark Spanish oaks from which the sharp pointed +acorns were dropping, darkest green oaks, shut out the shore. A +thousand starlings were flung up into the air out of these oaks, as +if an impatient hand had cast them into the sky; then down they +fell again, with a ceaseless whistling and clucking; up they went +and down they came, lost in the deep green foliage as if they had +dropped in the sea. The long level of the wheat-field plain +stretched out from my feet towards the far-away Downs, so level +that the first hedge shut off the fields beyond; and every now and +then over these hedges there rose up the white forms of sea-gulls +drifting to and fro among the elms. White sea-gulls—birds of +divination, you might say—a good symbol of the times, for now +we plough the ocean. The barren sea! In the Greek poets you may +find constant reference to it as that which could not be reaped or +sowed. Ulysses, to betoken his madness, took his plough down to the +shore and drew furrows in the sand—the sea that even Demeter, +great goddess, could not sow nor bring to any fruition. Yet now the +ocean is our wheat-field and ships are our barns. The sea-gull +should be painted on the village tavern sign instead of the golden +wheatsheaf.</p> +<p>There could be no more flat and uninteresting surface than this +field, a damp wet brown, water slowly draining out of the furrows, +not a bird that I can see. No hare certainly, or partridge, or even +a rabbit—nothing to sit or crouch—on that cold surface, +tame and level as the brown cover of a book. They like something +more human and comfortable; just as we creep into nooks and corners +of rooms and into cosy arm-chairs, so they like tufts or some +growth of shelter, or mounds that are dry, between hedges where +there is a bite for them. I can trace nothing on this surface, so +heavily washed by late rain. Let now the harriers come, and +instantly the hounds' second sense of smell picks up the invisible +sign of the hare that has crossed it in the night or early dawn, +and runs it as swiftly as if he were lifting a clue of thread. The +dull surface is all written over with hieroglyphics to the hound, +he can read and translate to us in joyous tongue. Or the foxhounds +carry a bee-line straight from hedge to hedge, and after them come +the hoofs, prospecting deeply into the earth, dashing down fibre +and blade, crunching up the tender wheat and battering it to +pieces. It will rise again all the fresher and stronger, for there +is something human in wheat, and the more it is trampled on the +better it grows. Despots grind half the human race, and despots +stronger than man—plague, pestilence, and famine—grind +the whole; and yet the world increases, and the green wheat of the +human heart is not to be trampled out.</p> +<p>The starlings grew busier and busier in the dark green Spanish +oaks, thrown up as if a shell had burst among them; suddenly their +clucking and whistling ceased, the speeches of contention were +over, a vote of confidence had been passed in their Government, and +the House was silent. The pheasants in the park shook their wings +and crowed 'kuck, kuck—kow,' and went to roost; the water in +the furrows ceased to reflect; the dark earth grew darker and +damper; the elms lost their reddish brown; the sky became leaden +behind the ridge of the Downs; and the shadow of night fell over +the field.</p> +<p>Twenty-five years ago I went into a camera obscura, where you +see miniature men and women, coloured photographs alive and moving, +trees waving, now and then dogs crossing the bright sun picture. I +was only there a few moments, and I have never been in one since, +and yet so inexplicable a thing is memory, the picture stands +before me now clear as if it were painted and tangible. So many +millions of pictures have come and gone upon the retina, and yet I +can single out this one in an instant, and take it down as you +would a book from a shelf. The millions of coloured etchings that +have fixed themselves there in the course of those years are all in +due order in the portfolio of the mind, and yet they cannot occupy +the space of a pin's point. They have neither length, breadth, nor +thickness, none of the qualifications of mathematical substance, +and yet they must in some way be a species of matter. The fact +indicates the possibility of still more subtle existences. Now I +wish I could put before you a coloured, living, moving picture, +like that of the camera obscura, of some other wheat-fields at a +sunnier time. They were painted on the surface of a plain, set +round about with a margin of green downs. They were large enough to +have the charm of vague, indefinite extension, and yet all could be +distinctly seen. Large squares of green corn that was absorbing its +yellow from the sunlight; chess squares, irregularly placed, of +brown furrows; others of rich blood-red trifolium; others of +scarlet sainfoin and blue lucerne, gardens of scarlet poppies here +and there. Not all of these, of course, at once, but they followed +so quickly in the summer days that they seemed to be one and the +same pictures, and had you painted them altogether on the same +canvas, together with ripe wheat, they would not have seemed out of +place. Never was such brilliant colour; it was chalk there, and on +chalk the colours are always clearer, the poppies deeper, the +yellow mustard and charlock a keener yellow; the air, too, is +pellucid. Waggons going along the tracks; men and women hoeing; +ricks of last year still among clumps of trees, where the chimneys +and gables of farmhouses are partly visible; red-tiled barns away +yonder; a shepherd moving his hurdles; away again the black funnel +of an idle engine, and the fly-wheel above hawthorn +bushes—all so distinct and close under that you might almost +fear to breathe for fear of dimming the mirror. The few white +clouds sailing over seemed to belong to the fields on which their +shadows were now foreshortened, now lengthened, as if they were +really part of the fields, like the crops, and the azure sky so low +down as to be the roof of the house and not at all a separate +thing. And the sun a lamp that you might almost have pushed along +his course faster with your hand; a loving and interesting sun that +wanted the wheat to ripen, and stayed there in the slow-drawn arc +of the summer day to lend a hand. Sun and sky and clouds close here +and not across any planetary space, but working with us in the same +field, shoulder to shoulder, with man. Then you might see the white +doves yonder flutter up suddenly out of the trees by the farm, +little flecks of white clouds themselves, and everywhere all +throughout the plain an exquisite silence, a delicious repose, not +one clang or harshness of sound to shatter the beauty of it. There +you might stand on the high down among the thyme and watch it, hour +after hour, and still no interruption; nothing to break it up. It +was something like the broad folio of an ancient illuminated +manuscript, in gold, gules, blue, green; with foliated scrolls and +human figures, somewhat clumsy and thick, but quaintly drawn, and +bold in their intense realism.</p> +<p>There was another wheat-field by the side of which I used to +walk sometimes in the evenings, as the grains in the cars began to +grow firm. The path ran for a mile beside it—a mile of wheat +in one piece—all those million million stalks the same +height, all with about the same number of grains in each car, all +ripening together. The hue of the surface travelled along as you +approached; the tint of yellow shifted farther like the reflection +of sunlight on water, but the surface was really much the same +colour everywhere. It seemed a triumph of culture over such a +space, such regularity, such perfection of myriads of plants +springing in their true lines at the same time, each particular ear +perfect, and a mile of it. Perfect work with the plough, the drill, +the harrow in every detail, and yet such breadth. Let your hand +touch the ears lightly as you walk—drawn through them as if +over the side of a boat in water—feeling the golden heads. +The sparrows fly out every now and then ahead; some of the birds +like their corn as it hardens, and some while it is soft and full +of milky sap. There are hares within, and many a brood of partridge +chicks that cannot yet use their wings. Thick as the seed itself +the feathered creatures have been among the wheat since it was +sown. Finches more numerous than the berries on the hedges; +sparrows like the finches multiplied by finches, linnets, rooks, +like leaves on the trees, wood-pigeons whose crops are like bushel +baskets for capacity; and now as it ripens the multitude will be +multiplied by legions, and as it comes to the harvest there is a +fresh crop of sparrows from the nests in the barns, you may see a +brown cloud of them a hundred yards long. Besides which there were +the rabbits that ate the young green blades, and the mice that will +be busy in the sheaves, and the insects from spring-time to +granary, a nameless host uncounted. A whole world, as it were, let +loose upon the wheat, to eat, consume, and wither it, and yet it +conquers the whole world. The great field you see was filled with +gold corn four feet deep as a pitcher is filled with water to the +brim. Of yore the rich man is said, in the Roman classic, to have +measured his money, so here you might have measured it by the rood. +The sunbeams sank deeper and deeper into the wheatears, layer upon +layer of light, and the colour deepened by these daily strokes. +There was no bulletin to tell the folk of its progress, no +Nileometer to mark the rising flood of the wheat to its hour of +overflow. Yet there went through the village a sense of +expectation, and men said to each other, 'We shall be there soon.' +No one knew the day—the last day of doom of the golden race; +every one knew it was nigh. One evening there was a small square +piece cut at one side, a little notch, and two shocks stood there +in the twilight. Next day the village sent forth its army with +their crooked weapons to cut and slay. It used to be an era, let me +tell you, when a great farmer gave the signal to his reapers; not a +man, woman, or child that did not talk of that. Well-to-do people +stopped their vehicles and walked out into the new stubble. Ladies +came, farmers, men of low degree, everybody—all to exchange a +word or two with the workers. These were so terribly in earnest at +the start they could scarcely acknowledge the presence even of the +squire. They felt themselves so important, and were so full, and so +intense and one-minded in their labour, that the great of the earth +might come and go as sparrows for aught they cared. More men and +more men were put on day by day, and women to bind the sheaves, +till the vast field held the village, yet they seemed but a handful +buried in the tunnels of the golden mine: they were lost in it like +the hares, for as the wheat fell, the shocks rose behind them, low +tents of corn. Your skin or mine could not have stood the +scratching of the straw, which is stiff and sharp, and the burning +of the sun, which blisters like red-hot iron. No one could stand +the harvest-field as a reaper except he had been born and cradled +in a cottage, and passed his childhood bareheaded in July heats and +January snows. I was always fond of being out of doors, yet I used +to wonder how these men and women could stand it, for the summer +day is long, and they were there hours before I was up. The edge of +the reap-hook had to be driven by force through the stout stalks +like a sword, blow after blow, minute after minute, hour after +hour; the back stooping, and the broad sun throwing his fiery rays +from a full disc on the head and neck. I think some of them used to +put handkerchiefs doubled up in their hats as pads, as in the East +they wind the long roll of the turban about the head, and perhaps +they would have done better if they had adopted the custom of the +South and wound a long scarf about the middle of the body, for they +were very liable to be struck down with such internal complaints as +come from great heat. Their necks grew black, much like black oak +in old houses. Their open chests were always bare, and flat, and +stark, and never rising with rounded bust-like muscle as the Greek +statues of athletes.</p> +<p>The breast-bone was burned black, and their arms, tough as ash, +seemed cased in leather. They grew visibly thinner in the +harvest-field, and shrunk together—all flesh disappearing, +and nothing but sinew and muscle remaining. Never was such work. +The wages were low in those days, and it is not long ago, +either—I mean the all-year-round wages; the reaping was +piecework at so much per acre—like solid gold to men and +women who had lived on dry bones, as it were, through the winter. +So they worked and slaved, and tore at the wheat as if they were +seized with a frenzy; the heat, the aches, the illness, the +sunstroke, always impending in the air—the stomach hungry +again before the meal was over, it was nothing. No song, no laugh, +no stay—on from morn till night, possessed with a maddened +desire to labour, for the more they could cut the larger the sum +they would receive; and what is man's heart and brain to money? So +hard, you see, is the pressure of human life that these miserables +would have prayed on their knees for permission to tear their arms +from the socket, and to scorch and shrivel themselves to charred +human brands in the furnace of the sun.</p> +<p>Does it not seem bitter that it should be so? Here was the +wheat, the beauty of which I strive in vain to tell you, in the +midst of the flowery summer, scourging them with the knot of +necessity; that which should give life pulling the life out of +them, rendering their existence below that of the cattle, so far as +the pleasure of living goes. Without doubt many a low mound in the +churchyard—once visible, now level—was the sooner +raised over the nameless dead because of that terrible strain in +the few weeks of the gold fever. This is human life, real human +life—no rest, no calm enjoyment of the scene, no generous +gift of food and wine lavishly offered by the gods—the hard +fist of necessity for ever battering man to a shapeless and +hopeless fall.</p> +<p>The whole village lived in the field; a corn-land village is +always the most populous, and every rood of land thereabouts, in a +sense, maintains its man. The reaping, and the binding up and +stacking of the sheaves, and the carting and building of the ricks, +and the gleaning, there was something to do for every one, from the +'olde, olde, very olde man,' the Thomas Parr of the hamlet, down to +the very youngest child whose little eye could see, and whose +little hand could hold a stalk of wheat. The gleaners had a way of +binding up the collected wheatstalks together so that a very large +quantity was held tightly in a very small compass. The gleaner's +sheaf looked like the knot of a girl's hair woven in and bound. It +was a tradition of the wheat field handed down from generation to +generation, a thing you could not possibly do unless you had been +shown the secret—like the knots the sailors tie, a kind of +hand art. The wheatstalk being thick at one end makes the sheaf +heavier and more solid there, and so in any manner of fastening it +or stacking it, it takes a rounded shape like a nine-pin; the round +ricks are built thick in the middle and lessen gradually toward the +top and toward the ground. The warm yellow of the straw is very +pleasant to look at on a winter's day under a grey sky; so, too, +the straw looks nice and warm and comfortable, thrown down thickly +in the yards for the roan cattle.</p> +<p>After the village has gone back to its home still the work of +the wheat is not over; there is the thatching with straw of last +year, which is bleached and contrasts with the yellow of the +fresh-gathered crop. Next the threshing; and meantime the ploughs +are at work, and very soon there is talk of seed-time.</p> +<p>I used to look with wonder when I was a boy at the endless +length of wall and the enormous roof of a great tithe barn. The +walls of Spanish convents, with little or no window to break the +vast monotony, somewhat resemble it: the convent is a building, but +does not look like a home; it is too big, too general. So this +barn, with its few windows, seemed too immense to belong to any one +man. The tithe barn has so completely dropped out of modern life +that it may be well to briefly mention that its use was to hold the +tenth sheaf from every wheat-field in the parish. The parson's +tithe was the real actual tenth sheaf bodily taken from every field +of corn in the district. A visible tenth, you see; a very solid +thing. Imagine the vast heap they would have made, imagine the +hundreds and hundreds of sacks of wheat they filled when they were +threshed. I have often thought that it would perhaps be a good +thing if this contribution of the real tenth could be brought back +again for another purpose. If such a barn could be filled now, and +its produce applied to the help of the poor and aged and injured of +the village, we might get rid of that blot on our +civilisation—the workhouse. Mr. Besant, in his late capital +story, 'The Children of Gibeon,' most truly pointed out that it was +custom which rendered all men indifferent to the sufferings of +their fellow-creatures. In the old Roman days men were crucified so +often that it ceased even to be a show; the soldiers played at dice +under the miserable wretches: the peasant women stepping by jested +and laughed and sang. Almost in our own time dry skeletons creaked +on gibbets at every cross-road:—</p> +<pre> + When for thirty shillings men were hung, + And the thirst for blood grew stronger, + Men's lives were valued then at a sheep's— + Thank God that lasts no longer. +</pre> +So strong is custom and tradition, and the habit of thought it +weaves about us, that I have heard ancient and grave farmers, when +the fact was mentioned with horror, hum, and ah! and handle their +beards, and mutter that 'they didn't know as 'twas altogether such +a bad thing as they was hung for sheep-stealing.' There were +parsons then, as now, in every rural parish preaching and teaching +something they called the Gospel. Why did they not rise as one man +and denounce this ghastly iniquity, and demand its abolition? They +did nothing of the sort; they enjoyed their pipes and grog very +comfortably.<br> +<br> + +<p>The gallows at the cross-roads is gone, but the workhouse +stands, and custom, cruel custom, that tyrant of the mind, has +inured us (to use an old word) to its existence in our midst. Apart +from any physical suffering, let us only consider the slow agony of +the poor old reaper when he feels his lusty arm wither, and of the +grey bowed wife as they feel themselves drifting like a ship ashore +to that stony waiting-room. For it is a waiting-room till the grave +receives them. Economically, too, the workhouse is a heavy loss and +drag.</p> +<p>Could we, then, see the tithe barn filled again with golden +wheat for this purpose of help to humanity, it might be a great and +wonderful good. With this tenth to feed the starving and clothe the +naked; with the tenth to give the little children a midday meal at +the school—that would be natural and true. In the course of +time, as the land laws lessen their grip, and the people take +possession of the earth on which they stand, it is more than +probable that something of this kind will really come about. It +would be only simple justice after so many centuries—it takes +so many hundreds of years to get even that.</p> +<p>'Workhouse, indeed!' I have heard the same ancient well-to-do +greybeards ejaculate, 'workhouse! they ought to be very thankful +they have got such a place to go to!'</p> +<p>All the village has been to the wheat-field with reaping-hooks, +and waggons and horses, the whole strength of man has been employed +upon it; little brown hands and large brown hands, blue eyes and +dark eyes have been there searching about; all the intelligence of +human beings has been brought to bear, and yet the stubble is not +empty. Down there come again the ever-increasing clouds of +sparrows; as a cloud rises here another cloud descends beyond it, a +very mist and vapour as it were of wings. It makes one wonder to +think where all the nests could have been; there could hardly have +been enough caves and barns for all these to have been bred in. +Every one of the multitude has a keen pair of eyes and a hungry +beak, and every single individual finds something to eat in the +stubble. Something that was not provided for them, crumbs that have +escaped from this broad table, and there they are every day for +weeks together, still finding food. If you will consider the +incredible number of little mouths, and the busy rate at which they +ply them hour by hour, you may imagine what an immense number of +grains of wheat must have escaped man's hand, for you must remember +that every time they peck they take a whole grain. Down, too, come +the grey-blue wood-pigeons and the wild turtle-doves. The singing +linnets come in parties, the happy greenfinches, the streaked +yellow-hammers, as if any one had delicately painted them in +separate streaks, and not with a wash of colour, the brown +buntings, chaffinches—out they come from the hazel copses, +where the nuts are dropping, and the hedge berries turning red, and +every one finds something to his liking. There are the seeds of the +charlock and the thistle, and a hundred other little seeds, +insects, and minute atom-like foods it needs a bird's eye to know. +They are never still, they sweep up into the hedges and line the +boughs, calling and talking, and away again to another rood of +stubble without any order or plan of search, just sowing themselves +about like wind-blown seeds. Up and down the day through with a +zest never failing. It is beautiful to listen to them and watch +them, if any one will stay under an oak by the nut-tree boughs, +here the dragon-flies shoot to and fro in the shade as if the +direct rays of the sun would burn their delicate wings; they hunt +chiefly in the shade. The linnets will suddenly sweep up into the +boughs and converse sweetly over your head. The sunshine lingers +and grows sweeter as the autumn gives tokens of its coming in the +buff bryony leaf, and the acorn filling its cup. They are so happy, +the birds, yet there are few to listen to them. I have often looked +round and wondered that no one else was about hearkening to them. +Altogether, perhaps, they lead safer lives in England than anywhere +else. We do not shoot them; the fowlers do mischief, still they +make but little impression; there are few birds of prey, and there +is not that fearful bloodthirstiness that makes a tropical forest +so terrible in fact, under its outward show of glowing colour. +There, with cruel hawks and owls, and serpents, and beasts of prey, +a bird's life is one long terror. They are ever on the watch here, +but they are not so fearfully harassed, and are not certain as it +were beforehand to be torn to pieces. The land is well cultivated, +and the more the culture the more the food for them. Frost and snow +are their greatest enemies, but even these do not often last a +great while. It is a land of woods, and above all of hedges, which +are much more favourable to birds than forests, so that they are +better off in England than in other countries. From the sowing to +the reaping, the wheat-field gives a constant dole like the +monasteries of old, only here it is no crust, but a free and +bountiful largess. Then the stubble must be broken up by the +plough, and again there is a fresh helping for them. Brown +partridge, and black rook, and yellowhammer, all hues and degrees, +come to the wheat-field.</p> +<h4 align="center">II.</h4> +<p>Every day something new is introduced into farming, and yet the +old things are not driven out. Every one knows that steam is now +used on the farm for ploughing and threshing and working machinery +at the farmstead, and one would have thought that by this time it +would have superseded all other motive powers. Yet this very day I +counted twenty great cart-horses at work in one ploughed field. +They were all in pairs, harnessed to harrows, rollers, and ploughs, +and out of the twenty, nineteen were dark-coloured. Huge great +horses, broad of limb, standing high up above the level surface of +the open field, great towers of strength, almost prehistoric in +their massiveness. Enough of them to drag a great cannon up into a +battery on the heights. The day before, passing the same +farm—it was Sunday—a great bay cart-horse mare standing +contentedly in a corner of the yard looked round to see who it was +going by, and the sun shone on the glossy hair, smooth as if it had +been brushed, the long black mane hung over the arching neck, the +large dark eyes looked at us so quietly—a real English +picture. The black funnel of the steam-engine has not driven the +beautiful cart-horses out of the fields. They have been there for +centuries, and there they stay; the notched, broad wheel of the +steam-plough has but just begun to leave its trail on the earth. +New things come, but the old do not go away. One life is but a +summer's day compared with the long cycle of years of agriculture, +and yet it seems that a whole storm, as it were, of innovations has +burst upon the fields ever since I can recollect, and, as years go, +I am still in the green leaf. The labouring men used to tell me how +they went reaping, for although you may see what is called reaping +still going on at harvest-time, it is not reaping. True reaping is +done with a hook alone and the hand; all the present reaping is +'vagging,' with a hook in one hand and a bent stick in the other, +and instead of drawing the hook towards him and cutting it, the +reaper chops at the straw as he might at an enemy. Then came the +reaping machines, that simply cut the wheat, and left it lying flat +on the ground, which were constantly altered and improved. Now +there are the wire and string binders, that not only cut the corn, +but gather it together and bind it in sheaves—a vast saving +in labour. Still the reaping-hook endures and is used on all small +farms, and to some extent on large ones, to round off the work of +the machine; the new things come, but the old still remains. In +itself the reaping-hook is an enlarged sickle, and the sickle was +in use in Roman times, and no man knows how long before that. With +it the reaper cut off the ears of the wheat only, leaving the tall +straw standing, much as if it had been a pruning-knife. It is the +oldest of old implements—very likely it was made of a chip of +flint at first, and then of bronze, and then of steel, and now at +Sheffield or Birmingham in its enlarged form of the 'vagging' hook. +In the hand of Ceres it was the very symbol of agriculture, and +that was a goodly time ago. At this hour they say the sickle is +still used in several parts of England where the object is more to +get the straw than the ear.</p> +<p>On the broad page of some ancient illuminated manuscript, +centuries old, you may see the churl, or farmer's man, knocking +away with his flail at the grain on the threshing-floor. The knock +knocking of the flail went on through the reigns of how many kings +and queens I do not know, they are all forgotten, God wot, down to +the edge of our own times. The good old days when there was snow at +Christmas, and fairs were held and pamphlets printed on the frozen +Thames, when comets were understood as fate, and when the corn laws +starved half England—those were the times of the flail. Every +barn—and there were then barns on every farm, think of the +number—had its threshing-floor opposite the great open doors, +and all the dread winter through the flail resounded. Men looked +upon it as their most cherished privilege to get that employment in +the bitter dark hours of the hungry months. It was life itself to +them: to stand there swinging that heavy bit of wood all day meant +meat and drink, or rather cheese and drink, for themselves and +families. It was a post as valued as a civil list pension nowadays, +for you see there were crowds of men in these corn villages, but +only a few of them could get barns to snop away in.</p> +<p>The flail is made of two stout staves of wood jointed with +leather. They had flails of harder make than that, harder than the +iron nails used in the wars of old times, <i>i.e.</i> Hunger, +Necessity, Fate, to beat them on the back, and thresh them on the +floor of the earth. The corn laws are gone, half the barns are +gone, our granaries now are afloat, steam threshes our +ricks—in a few days doing what used to take months, and you +would think that this simple implement would have disappeared for +ever. Instead of which flails are still in use on small +farms—which it is now the cry to multiply—for knocking +out little quantities of grain for feeding purposes. The gleaners +used to use them to thresh out their collections. There would be no +difficulty in getting a flail if anybody had a mind to make a +museum of such things; and if the force of modern ideas should +succeed in dividing the land among small occupiers, the flail will +become as common as ever.</p> +<p>There was an old waggon shown at the Royal Agricultural Show in +London said to be two hundred years old; probably it had had so +many new wheels, and shafts, and sides, as to have physiologically +changed its constitution—still there were waggons in those +days, and there are waggons now. Express trains go by in a great +hurry—the slow waggons gather up the warm hay and the yellow +wheat, just as they did hundreds of years since. The broad-browed +oxen guided by the ancient goad draw the old wooden plough over the +slopes of the Downs, though the telegraph wires are in sight. You +may see men sowing broadcast just as they did a thousand years ago +on the broad English acres. Yet the light iron plough, and the +heavy drill with its four horses, the steam-plough, winnowing +machines, root-pulpers, are manufactured and cast out into the +fields, and machinery, machinery, machinery, still increases.</p> +<p>If I were a painter I should like to paint all this; I should +like to paint a great steam-ploughing engine and its vast wheels, +with its sweep of smoke, sometimes drifting low over the fallow, +sometimes rising into the air in regular shape, like the pine tree +of Pliny over Pompeii's volcano. A wonderful effect it has in the +still air; sweet white violets in a corner by the hedge still there +in all their beauty. For I think that the immense realism of the +iron wheels makes the violet yet more lovely; the more they try to +drive out Nature with a fork the more she returns, and the soul +clings the stronger to the wild flowers. I should like to paint the +lessening square of the wheat-field, the reaping machine +continually cutting the square smaller, as if it traversed the +Greek fret. People of the easel would not find it easy to depict +the half-green, half-made hay floating in the air behind a +haymaking machine. Sunlight falls on the modern implements just the +same as on the old wooden plough and the oxen. To be true, pictures +of our fields should have them both, instead of which all the +present things are usually omitted, and we are presented with +landscapes that might date from the first George. Turner painted +the railway train and made it at once ideal, poetical, and +classical. His 'Rain, Steam, and Speed,' which displays a modern +subject, is a most wonderful picture. If a man chose his hour +rightly, the steam-plough under certain atmospheric conditions +would give him as good a subject as a Great Western train. He who +has got the sense of beauty in his eye can find it in things as +they really are, and needs no stagey time of artificial pastorals +to furnish him with a sham nature. Idealise to the full, but +idealise the real, else the picture is a sham.</p> +<p>All the old things remain on the farm, but the village is driven +out—the village that used to come as one man to the reaping. +Machinery has not altered the earth, but it has altered the +conditions of men's lives, and as work decreases, so men decrease. +Some go the cities, some emigrate; the young men drift away, and +there is none of that home life that there used to be. They are +going to try to re-settle our land by altering the laws. Most +certainly the laws ought to be altered, and must be altered, still +it is evident to any one of dispassionate thought, while such +immense quantities of gold are sent away from us, profit cannot be +made in farming either small or great. The crop is the same in +either case, and if there is no sale for the produce, it matters +very little whether you farm four acres or four hundred.</p> +<p>New hats and jackets, but the same old faces. A stout old farmer +sat at the side of his barn door on the hatch leaning against the +post. His body was as rotund as a full sack of wheat, his great +chin and his great checks were full; a man very solidly set as it +were, and he eyed me, a stranger, as I passed down the lane, with +mistrust and suspicion in every line of his face. Out of the +hunting season a stranger might perhaps have been seen there once +in six months, and this was that once. The British bull-dog growled +in his countenance—very likely pleasantness itself to those +he knew, grimness itself to others. The sunlight fell full into the +barn, the great doors wide open; there were sacks on the other side +of the door piled up inside, a heap of grain, and two men turning +the winches of a winnowing machine. New hats, but old faces. Could +his great-great-grandfather have been dug up and set in that barn +door, he would have looked just the same, so would the sacks, and +the wheat, and the sunshine. At the market town, where the +auctioneer's hammer goes tap tap over bullocks and sheep, crowds of +men gather together,—farmers, and bailiffs, and shepherds, +drovers and labourers—and their clothes are different, but +there are the same old weather-beaten faces. Faces that you may see +in the ancient illuminated manuscripts, in the realistic wood +engravings of early printed books, in the etchings of last century, +the same lines and expression. The earth has marked them all. In a +modern country sketch or picture you would <i>not</i> find them, +they would be smoothed away—drawing-room faces, made +transparent, in attitudes like easy-limbed girls delicately +proportioned These are not country people. Country people are the +same now in appearance as when the old artists honestly drew them; +sturdy and square, bulky and slow, no attitudes, no drawing-room +grace, no Christmas card glossiness; somewhat stiff of limb, with a +distinct flavour of hay and straw about them, and no enamel. In the +villages cottagers have no ideas of tastefully disposing their +mantles about their shoulders, or of dressing for the occasion. I +do not know how to describe the form of a middle-aged cottage woman +on a stormy day with a large, greenish umbrella, a round bonnet, +huge and enclosing all the head, back, and sides, like the vast +helm of the knights, a sort of circular cloak, stout ankles well +visible, and sometimes pattens; the wearer inside all this +decidedly bulky, and the whole apparatus coming along through mud +and rain with great deliberation. Inside the round bonnet a ruddy, +apple-checked face, just such a one as used to go to mass in Sir +John the priest's time, before the images were knocked out of the +rood-loft at the church there. The boys and girls play in the +ditches till they go to school, and they play in the hedges and +ditches every hour they can get out of school, and the moment their +time is up they go to work among the hedges and ditches, and though +they may have had to read standard authors at school, no sooner do +they get among the furrows than they talk hedge and ditch language. +They do not talk Pope, or Milton, or Addison; they 'knaaws,' 'they +be a-gwoin thur,' it's a 'geat,' and a 'vield,' and a 'vurrow.' +These are the old faces you see, the same old powers are at work to +fashion them. Heavy, blind blows of the Wind, the Rain, Frost, and +Heat, have beaten up their faces in rude <i>repoussé</i> +work. They have nails in their boots, but new hats on their heads; +he who paints them aright should paint the old nailed boots, but +also the new hats and the Waltham watches. Why do they not read? +All have been taught, and curious as the inconsistency may seem, +they all value the privilege of being <i>able</i> to read and +write, and yet they do not exercise it, except in a casual, random +way. I for one, when the public schools began all through the rural +districts, thought that at last the printing-press was going to +reach the country people. In a measure it has done so, but in a +flickering, uncertain manner; they read odd bits which come +drifting to their homes in irregular ways, just as people on the +coast light their fires with fragments of wreck, chance-thrown by +the stormy spring-tides on the beach. So the fire of the mind in +country places is fed with chips and splinters, and shapeless +pieces that do not fit together, and no one sits down to read. I +think I see two reasons why country people do not read, the first +of which, thanks be to Allah, will endure for ever; the second may +perhaps disappear in time, when those who make books come to see +what is wanted.</p> +<p>First, nature has given them so much to read out of doors, such +a vast and ever-changing picture-book, that white paper stained +with black type indoors seems dry and without meaning. A barnyard +chanticleer and his family afford more matter than the best book +ever written. His coral red comb, his silvery scaled legs, his +reddened feathers, and his fiery attitudes, his jolly crow, and all +his ways—there's an illustrated pamphlet, there's a +picture-block book for you in one creature only! Reckon his family, +the tender little chicks, the enamelled eggs, the feeding every +day, the roosting, the ever-present terror of the red wood-dog (as +the gipsies call the fox)—here's a Chronicon Nurembergense +with a thousand woodcuts; a whole history. This seems a very simple +matter, and yet it is true that people become intensely absorbed in +watching and living with such things. Add to these the veined elms, +whose innumerable branches divide like the veins or the nerves of a +physiological diagram, or like sprays of delicate seaweed slow +turning from their winter outline to the soft green shading of +summer; add to these the upspringing of the wheat and its slow +coming to that maturity of gold which marks the fulness of the +year; consider, then, the incomparable beauty of the mowing grass. +Now remember that they live among these things, and by daily +iteration the dullest mind becomes wrapped up in and welded to +them. Black type on white paper is but a flat surface after these. +Secondly, the books and papers themselves, made and printed in such +enormous quantities, do not touch a country mind. They have such a +cityfied air. Very correct, very scientific, and extremely well +edited, but thin in the matter. Something so stagey—you may +see it, for instance, in the books for children introducing +fairies, which fairies have short skirts, and caper about exactly +like a pantomime among stage frogs and stage mushrooms, and it is +quite clear that the artist who drew them, and the author who wrote +of them, actually drew their inspiration from the boards of a +theatre. They have never dreamed among the cowslips of the real +fields, they have never watched the ways of the birds from under an +oak. Children instinctively see that these toy-books are not +natural, and do not care for them; they may be illustrated in gold +and colours, sumptuously got up, and yet they are failures. +Children do not take these to bed with them. I have seen this +myself; I bought so many books to please children, but could never +do it till by chance some one sent a little American toy-book, 'The +History of the Owl and his Little One, and the Manoeuvres of the +Fox.' This had a little of the spirit of the woods in it, and was +read and re-read for a year. Only the other day a lady was telling +me much the same thing, how she had bought book after book but +could never hit on anything to please her little boy, till at last +she found an American publication, roughly illustrated, which he +always had by him. It is very strange that the art of the +old-fashioned book for children has gone over to New York, which +seems to us the land of newness.</p> +<p>For grown-up people the modern books which are sent out in such +numbers, often very cheap, have likewise an artificial cityfied air +so obviously got up and theatrical, such a mark of machinery on +them, all stamped and chucked out by the thousand, that they have +no attraction for a people who live with nature, and even in old +age retain a certain childlike faith in honesty and genuine work. +The reprints of good old authors, too, which may be had for a few +pennies now, are so edited away that all the golden ring of the +metal is clipped out of them. Overlaid with notes, and analyses, +and critical exegesis, the original throb of the author's heart has +disappeared from these polished bones. Just to suggest the book +that would please the country reader, look for a moment at those +works which came into existence at the very first dawn of +printing—those volumes with strongly drawn and +Dürer-like illustrations, very rough, and without perspective, +but whose meaning is at once understood, and which somehow convey +what I may call a genuine impression. Any countryman would tell you +at once that the illustrations of half the books of the present day +are mere vamped-up shallowness, drawn from a city man's mind in a +city room by gaslight. You must consider that the countryman who +lives out of doors, and always with nature, is, as regards his +reading, very much in the same mental position as the people who +lived four hundred years ago—in the days when costly and rare +manuscripts, few and far between, chained to the desk, were just +being superseded by printed books at a fifth the price, which could +be actually bought and carried home. Till quite lately so few books +have circulated in country places that they may be said to have +been like these old manuscripts. The early printed books were +simply the manuscripts printed, and that is why they remain to this +day the finest specimens of typography, quite incomparable and not +to be approached by present-day printers. The art of the scribe, +elaborated through centuries, had reached a marvellous perfection; +the first printer copied them—the magic Fust actually sold +his first books as manuscripts. Since printers have only copied +printers, books have steadily declined in excellence. I have been +obliged to use the outside to suggest the inside—country +readers want that which is genuine, honest, and, in a word, really +good; you cannot please them with vamped-up book-making. Two books +occur to me at this moment which would be greatly appreciated in +every country home, from that of the peasant who has just begun to +read to the houses of well-educated and well-to-do people, if they +only knew of their existence and their contents—of course +provided they were cheap enough, for country people have to be +careful of their money nowadays. I allude to Darwin's 'Climbing +Plants' and to his 'Earthworms;' these are astonishing works of +singular patience and careful observation. The first gives most +fascinating facts about such a common plant, for example, as the +hedge bryony and the circular motion of its tendrils. Any farmer, +for instance, will tell you that the hop-bine will insist upon +going round the pole in one direction, and you cannot persuade it +to go the other. These circular movements seem almost to resemble +those of the planets about their centre, all things down to the +ether seem to have a rotatory motion; and some foreign plants which +he grew send their far-extended tendrils round and round with so +patent a movement that you can see it hour by hour like the hand of +a clock. Perhaps the little book on earthworms is a yet more +wonderful achievement of this great genius, who had not only +untiring patience to observe and verify, but also possessed +imagination, and could thereby see the motive idea at work behind +the facts. At first it has a repellent sound, but we quickly learn +how clumsy and prejudiced have been our views of the despised worm +thrown up by every ploughshare.</p> +<p>I have spoken of the veined elms and their thousand thousand +branches that divide like the nerves; from each of these nerves of +living wood there has fallen its breathing lungs of leaf. Where are +these million leaves? By night the worm has drawn them into his +gallery beneath the surface, and they have formed his food to again +become the richest guano, to help the succulent growth of green +grass and corn. Merely for profit alone, the profit of this +digested food for plants, the agriculturist should preserve some +trees that their leaves may thus be applied. The despised worm, the +lowly worm, is actually so exquisitely organised that the whole of +its body is sensitive to light, and is as conscious of the ray as +the pupil of your own eye. Here is great and good work like that of +those classics, the manuscripts of which were the first to be +copied by the early printers, and books like this would be well +thumbed of the country reader.</p> +<p>In a degree the interior of the country bears a certain +resemblance to the state of Spain. Of that sunny land, travellers +tell us the strangest inconsistencies of the people and natural +products. It is an arid land, without verdure, nothing but prickly +aloes and scattered orange groves, mere dots in a sunburnt expanse. +Silver and gold abound, and every other metal, yet none of the +mines pay except the quicksilver. A rich soil is uncultivated, and +every natural advantage thrown away. There are railways, and +engines, and telegraphs, and books, but the populace are still +Spaniards, conservative in traditions, and wedded to old customs; +often nominally Republican, but in fact of the ancient creeds and +ways. Like this in lesser degree, everything among our green leaves +and golden wheat is in a confused mixture, at once backwards and +forwards, progressive and retrograde. Here is some of the best soil +in the world, numerous natural advantages, close proximity to +immense markets, such as London. There seem mines of gold and +silver in every acre, yet there is a crushing poverty among the +farmers, and exacting poverty among their dependants the labourers. +Every farm may be said to be within reach of railway communication, +yet the producers know nothing of their customers. The country +wishes new land laws to abolish the last vestiges of feudalism, and +is beginning to unite against tithes, and in the same breath votes +Conservative and places a Conservative Government in office. It +would break down the monopoly of the railways, and at the same time +would like a monopoly of protection for itself. It has learned to +read and does not buy books. Science has been shouted over the +length and breadth of the land, and chemistry, and I know not what, +called to the assistance of the farmer, and every day we are +drifting more and more backwards into the rule-of-thumb methods of +our forefathers. No anarchy, happily—omitting that there is a +strong resemblance to Spain. For an instance, in the daily papers +it has become as common as possible to see an advertisement of +farm-house apartments to let. Numbers of farm people look forward +to their letting season in the same way as at the sea-side and in +London. This is an immense breach in the ancient isolated manners +of country life. The old farmers, and only a very little time ago, +would as soon have thought of flying as of opening their doors to +strangers, and indeed their rooms were scarcely furnished in a way +to receive them. On the other hand, many farmhouses are empty +altogether, and the land is un-tilled, because it cannot be let at +any price, and lapsing backwards into barbarism. Everything used to +be so fixed: there was a sort of caste of farmers. A man born in a +farmhouse never thought of anything else but farming, and waited +and waited, perhaps till he was grey, to get a farm; now there are +few who have such fixed ideas, they are ready to take a chance at +home or abroad. Yet it is the same old country, and with the new +ways and science, and learning, and civilisation, it is as with the +machinery, they are all sunk and lost in the firm old lines. It is +all changed and just the same. What a clamour there used to be +about the damage done by the hares and rabbits to the crops! +By-and-by Parliament said, 'Shoot the hares and rabbits.' To work +they went and demolished them, and now, lo! there is a feeling +getting about that we don't want to be rid of all the hares and +rabbits. Hares are almost formed on purpose to be good sport, and +make a jolly good dish, a pleasant addition to the ceaseless round +of mutton and beef to which the dead level of civilisation reduces +us. Coursing is capital, the harriers first-rate. Now every man who +walks about the fields is more or less at heart a sportsman, and +the farmer having got the right of the gun he is not unlikely to +become to some extent a game preserver. When they could not get it +they wanted to destroy it, now they have got it they want to keep +it. The old feeling coming up again—the land reasserting +itself, Spain you see—down with feudalism, but let us have +the game. Look down the long list of hounds kept in England, not +one of which could get a run were it not for the good-will of the +farmers, and indeed of the labourers. Hunting is a mimicry of the +mediæval chase, and this is the nineteenth century of the +socialist, yet every man of the fields loves to hear the horn and +the burst of the hounds. Never was shooting, for instance, carried +to such perfection, perfect guns made with scientific accuracy, +plans of campaign among the pheasants set out with diagrams as if +there was going to be a battle of Blenheim in the woods. To be a +successful sportsman nowadays you must be a well-drilled veteran, +never losing presence of mind, keeping your nerve under +fire—flashes to the left of you, reports to the right of you, +shot whistling from the second line—a hero amid the ceaseless +rattle of musketry and the 'dun hot breath of war.' Of old time the +knight had to go through a long course of instructions. He had to +acquire the <i>manège</i> of his steed, the use of the lance +and sword, how to command a troop, and how to besiege a castle. +Till perfect in the arts of war and complete in the minutiæ +of falconry and all the terms of the chase, he could not take his +place in the ranks of men. The English country gentleman who now +holds something the same position socially as the knight, is not a +sportsman till he can use the breechloader with terrible effect at +the pheasant-shoot, till he can wield the salmon-rod, or ride +better than any Persian. Never were people—people in the +widest sense—fonder of horses and dogs, and every kind of +animal, than at the present day. The town has gone out into the +country, but the country has also penetrated the mind of the town. +No sooner has a man made a little money in the city, than away he +rushes to the fields and rivers, and nothing would so deeply hurt +the pride of the <i>nouveaux riches</i> as to insinuate that he was +not quite fully imbued with the spirit and the knowledge of the +country. If you told him he was ignorant of books he might take +that as a compliment; if you suggested in a sidelong way that he +did not understand horses he would never more be friends with you +again.</p> +<p>Nothing has died out, but everything has grown stronger that +appertains to the land. Heraldry, for instance, and genealogy, +county history—people don't want to be sheriffs now, but they +would very much like to be able to say one of their ancestors was +sheriff so many centuries ago. The old crests, the old coats of +arms, are more thought of than ever; every fragment of antiquity +valued. Almost everything old is of the country, either of the +mansion or of the cottage; old silver plate, and old china, and +works of the old masters in the one, old books, old furniture, old +clocks in the other.</p> +<p>The sweet violets bloom afresh every spring on the mounds, the +cowslips come, and the happy note of the cuckoo, the wild rose of +midsummer, and the golden wheat of August. It is the same beautiful +old country always new. Neither the iron engine nor the wooden +plough alter it one iota, and the love of it rises as constantly in +our hearts as the coming of the leaves. The wheat as it is moved +from field to field, like a quarto folded four times, gives us in +the mere rotation of crops a fresh garden every year. You have +scented the bean-field and seen the slender heads of barley droop. +The useful products of the field are themselves beautiful; the +sainfoin, the blue lucerne, the blood-red trifolium, the clear +yellow of the mustard, give more definite colours, and all these +are the merely useful, and, in that sense, the plainest of growths. +There are, then, the poppies, whose wild brilliance in July days is +not surpassed by any hue of Spain. Wild charlock—a clear +yellow—pink pimpernels, pink-streaked convolvulus, great +white convolvulus, double-yellow toadflax, blue borage, broad rays +of blue chicory, tall corn-cockles, azure corn-flowers, the great +mallow, almost a bush, purple knapweed—I will make no further +catalogue, but there are pages more of flowers, great and small, +that grow at the edge of the plough, from the coltsfoot that starts +out of the clumsy clod in spring to the white clematis. Of the +broad surface of the golden wheat and its glory I have already +spoken, yet these flower-encircled acres, these beautiful fields of +peaceful wheat, are the battle-fields of life. For these fertile +acres the Romans built their cities and those villas whose mosaics +and hypocausts are exposed by the plough, and formed straight roads +like the radii of a wheel or the threads of a geometrical spider's +web. Thus like the spider the legions from their centre marched +direct and quickly conquered. Next the Saxons, next the +monk-slaying Danes, next the Normans in chain-mail—one, two, +three heavy blows—came to grasp these golden acres. Dearly +the Normans loved them; they gripped them firmly and registered +them in 'Domesday Book.' They let not a hide escape them; they +gripped also the mills that ground the corn. Do you think such +blood would have been shed for barren wastes? No, it was to possess +these harvest-laden fields. The wheat-fields are the battle-fields +of the world. If not so openly invaded as of old time, the struggle +between nations is still one for the ownership or for the control +of corn. When Italy became a vineyard and could no more feed the +armies, slowly power slipped away and the great empire of Rome +split into many pieces. It has long been foreseen that if ever +England is occupied with a great war the question of our corn +supply, so largely derived from abroad, will become a weighty +matter. Happy for us that we have wheat-growing colonies! As +persons, each of us, in our voluntary or involuntary struggle for +money, is really striving for those little grains of wheat that lie +so lightly in the palm of the hand. Corn is coin and coin is corn, +and whether it be a labourer in the field, who no sooner receives +his weekly wage than he exchanges it for bread, or whether it be +the financier in Lombard Street who loans millions, the object is +really the same—wheat. All ends in the same: iron mines, coal +mines, factories, furnaces, the counter, the desk—no one can +live on iron, or coal, or cotton—the object is really sacks +of wheat. Therefore to the eye of the mind they are not sacks of +wheat, but filled to the brim, like those in the magic caves of the +'Arabian Nights,' with gold.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="12">JUST BEFORE WINTER.</a></h3> +<p>A rich tint of russet deepened on the forest top, and seemed to +sink day by day deeper into the foliage like a stain; riper and +riper it grew, as an apple colours. Broad acres these of the last +crop, the crop of leaves; a thousand thousand quarters, the broad +earth will be their barn. A warm red lies on the hill-side above +the woods, as if the red dawn stayed there through the day; it is +the heath and heather seeds; and higher still, a pale yellow fills +the larches. The whole of the great hill glows with colour under +the short hours of the October sun; and overhead, where the +pine-cones hang, the sky is of the deepest azure. The conflagration +of the woods burning luminously crowds into those short hours a +brilliance the slow summer does not know.</p> +<p>The frosts and mists and battering rains that follow in quick +succession after the equinox, the chill winds that creep about the +fields, have ceased a little while, and there is a pleasant sound +in the fir trees. Everything is not gone yet. In the lanes that +lead down to the 'shaws' in the dells, the 'gills,' as these wooded +depths are called, buckler ferns, green, fresh, and elegantly +fashioned, remain under the shelter of the hazel-lined banks. From +the tops of the ash wands, where the linnets so lately sang, coming +up from the stubble, the darkened leaves have been blown, and their +much-divided branches stand bare like outstretched fingers. +Black-spotted sycamore leaves are down, but the moss grows thick +and deeply green; and the trumpets of the lichen seem to be larger, +now they are moist, than when they were dry under the summer heat. +Here is herb Robert in flower—its leaves are scarlet; a leaf +of St. John's-wort, too, has become scarlet; the bramble leaves are +many shades of crimson; one plant of tormentil has turned yellow. +Furze bushes, grown taller since the spring, bear a second bloom, +but not perhaps so golden as the first. It is the true furze, and +not the lesser gorse; it is covered with half-opened buds; and it +is clear, if the short hours of sun would but lengthen, the whole +gorse hedge would become aglow again. Our trees, too, that roll up +their buds so tightly, like a dragoon's cloak, would open them +again at Christmas; and the sticky horse-chestnut would send forth +its long ears of leaves for New Year's Day. They would all come out +in leaf again if we had but a little more sun; they are quite ready +for a second summer.</p> +<p>Brown lie the acorns, yellow where they were fixed in their +cups; two of these cups seem almost as large as the great acorns +from abroad. A red dead-nettle, a mauve thistle, white and pink +bramble flowers, a white strawberry, a little yellow tormentil, a +broad yellow dandelion, narrow hawkweeds, and blue scabious, are +all in flower in the lane. Others are scattered on the mounds and +in the meads adjoining, where may be collected some heath still in +bloom, prunella, hypericum, white yarrow, some heads of red clover, +some beautiful buttercups, three bits of blue veronica, wild +chamomile, tall yellowwood, pink centaury, succory, dock cress, +daisies, fleabane, knapweed, and delicate blue harebells. Two York +roses flower on the hedge: altogether, twenty-six flowers, a large +bouquet for October 19, gathered, too, in a hilly country.</p> +<p>Besides these, note the broad hedge-parsley leaves, tunnelled by +leaf-miners; bright masses of haws gleaming in the sun; scarlet +hips; great brown cones fallen from the spruce firs; black +heart-shaped bindweed leaves here, and buff bryony leaves yonder; +green and scarlet berries of white bryony hanging thickly on bines +from which the leaves have withered; and bunches of grass, half +yellow and half green, along the mound. Now that the leaves have +been brushed from the beech saplings you may see how the leading +stem rises in a curious wavy line; some of the leaves lie at the +foot, washed in white dew, that stays in the shade all day; the +wetness of the dew makes the brownish red of the leaf show clear +and bright. One leaf falls in the stillness of the air slowly, as +if let down by a cord of gossamer gently, and not as a stone +falls—fate delayed to the last. A moth adheres to a bough, +his wings half open, like a short brown cloak flung over his +shoulders. Pointed leaves, some drooping, some horizontal, some +fluttering slightly, still stay on the tall willow wands, like +bannerets on the knights' lances, much torn in the late battle of +the winds. There is a shower from a clear sky under the trees in +the forest; brown acorns rattling as they fall, and rich coloured +Spanish chestnuts thumping the sward, and sometimes striking you as +you pass under; they lie on the ground in pocketfuls. Specks of +brilliant scarlet dot the grass like some bright berries blown from +the bushes; but on stooping to pick them, they are found to be the +heads of a fungus. Near by lies a black magpie's feather, spotted +with round dots of white.</p> +<p>At the edge of the trees stands an old timbered farmstead, whose +gables and dark lines of wood have not been painted in the memory +of man, dull and weather-beaten, but very homely; and by it rises +the delicate cone of a new oast-house, the tiles on which are of +the brightest red. Lines of bluish smoke ascend from among the +bracken of the wild open ground, where a tribe of gipsies have +pitched their camp. Three of the vans are time-stained and +travel-worn, with dull red roofs; the fourth is brightly picked out +with fresh yellow paint, and stands a marked object at the side. +Orange-red beeches rise beyond them on the slope; two hoop-tents, +or kibitkas, just large enough to creep into, are near the fires, +where the women are cooking the gipsy's <i>bouillon</i>, that +savoury stew of all things good: vegetables, meat, and scraps, and +savouries, collected as it were in the stock-pot from twenty miles +round. Hodge, the stay-at-home, sturdy carter, eats bread and +cheese and poor bacon sometimes; he looks with true British scorn +on all scraps and soups, and stock-pots and +<i>bouillons</i>—not for him, not he; he would rather munch +dry bread and cheese for every meal all the year round, though he +could get bits as easy as the other and without begging. The gipsy +is a cook. The man with a gold ring in his ear; the woman with a +silver ring on her finger, coarse black snaky hair like a horse's +mane; the boy with naked olive feet; dark eyes all of them, and an +Oriental, sidelong look, and a strange inflection of tone that +turns our common English words into a foreign language—there +they camp in the fern, in the sun, their Eastern donkeys of Syria +scattered round them, their children rolling about like foals in +the grass, a bit out of the distant Orient under our Western +oaks.</p> +<p>It is the nature of the oak to be still, it is the nature of the +hawk to roam with the wind. The Anglo-Saxon labourer remains in his +cottage generation after generation, ploughing the same fields; the +express train may rush by, but he feels no wish to rush with it; he +scarcely turns to look at it; all the note he takes is that it +marks the time to 'knock off' and ride the horses home. And if hard +want at last forces him away, and he emigrates, he would as soon +jog to the port in a waggon, a week on the road, as go by steam; as +soon voyage in a sailing ship as by the swift Cunarder. The swart +gipsy, like the hawk, for ever travels on, but, like the hawk, that +seems to have no road, and yet returns to the same trees, so he, +winding in circles of which we civilised people do not understand +the map, comes, in his own times and seasons, home to the same +waste spot, and cooks his savoury <i>bouillon</i> by the same +beech. They have camped here for so many years that it is +impossible to trace when they did not; it is wild still, like +themselves. Nor has their nature changed any more than the nature +of the trees.</p> +<p>The gipsy loves the crescent moon, the evening star, the clatter +of the fern-owl, the beetle's hum. He was born on the earth in the +tent, and he has lived like a species of human wild animal ever +since. Of his own free will he will have nothing to do with rites +or litanies: he may perhaps be married in a place of +worship—to make it legal, that is all. At the end, were it +not for the law, he would for choice be buried beneath the +'fireplace' of their children's children. He will not dance to the +pipe ecclesiastic, sound it who may—Churchman, Dissenter, +priest, or laic. Like the trees, he is simply indifferent. All the +great wave of teaching and text and tracts and missions and the +produce of the printing-press has made no impression upon his race +any more than upon the red deer that roam in the forest behind his +camp. The negroes have their fetich, every nation its idols; the +gipsy alone has none—not even a superstitious observance; +they have no idolatry of the Past, neither have they the exalted +thought of the Present, It is very strange that it should be so at +this the height of our civilisation, and you might go many thousand +miles and search from Africa to Australia before you would find +another people without a Deity. That can only be seen under an +English sky, under English oaks and beeches.</p> +<p>Are they the oldest race on earth? and have they worn out all +the gods? Have they worn out all the hopes and fears of the human +heart in tens of thousands of years, and do they merely live, +acquiescent to fate? For some have thought to trace in the older +races an apathy as with the Chinese, a religion of moral maxims and +some few joss-house superstitions, which they themselves full well +know to be nought, worshipping their ancestors, but with no vital +living force, like that which drove Mohammed's bands to zealous +fury, like that which sent our own Puritans over the sea in the +<i>Mayflower</i>. No living faith. So old, so very, very old, older +than the Chinese, older than the Copts of Egypt, older than the +Aztecs; back to those dim Sanskrit times that seem like the clouds +on the far horizon of human experience, where space and chaos begin +to take shape, though but of vapour. So old, they went through +civilisation ten thousand years since; they have worn it all out, +even hope in the future; they merely live acquiescent to fate, like +the red deer. The crescent moon, the evening star, the clatter of +the fern-owl, the red embers of the wood fire, the pungent smoke +blown round about by the occasional puffs of wind, the shadowy +trees, the sound of the horses cropping the grass, the night that +steals on till the stubbles alone are light among the +fields—the gipsy sleeps in his tent on mother earth; it is, +you see, primeval man with primeval nature. One thing he gains at +least—an iron health, an untiring foot, women whose haunches +bear any burden, children whose naked feet are not afraid of the +dew.</p> +<p>By sharp contrast, the Anglo-Saxon labourer who lives in the +cottage close by and works at the old timbered farmstead is +profoundly religious.</p> +<p>The gipsies return from their rambling soon after the end of +hop-picking, and hold a kind of informal fair on the village green +with cockshies, swings, and all the clumsy games that extract money +from clumsy hands. It is almost the only time of the year when the +labouring people have any cash; their weekly wages are mortgaged +beforehand; the hop-picking money comes in a lump, and they have +something to spend. Hundreds of pounds are paid to meet the tally +or account kept by the pickers, the old word tally still surviving, +and this has to be charmed out of their pockets. Besides the +gipsies' fair, the little shopkeepers in the villages send out +circulars to the most outlying cottage announcing the annual sale +at an immense sacrifice; anything to get the hop-pickers' cash; and +the packmen come round, too, with jewelry and lace and finery. The +village by the forest has been haunted by the gipsies for a +century; its population in the last thirty years has much +increased, and it is very curious to observe how the gipsy element +has impregnated the place. Not only are the names gipsy, the faces +are gipsy; the black coarse hair, high cheek-bones, and peculiar +forehead linger; even many of the shopkeepers have a distinct +trace, and others that do not show it so much are known to be +nevertheless related.</p> +<p>Until land became so valuable—it is now again +declining—these forest grounds of heath and bracken were free +to all comers, and great numbers of squatters built huts and +inclosed pieces of land. They cleared away the gorse and heath and +grubbed the fir-tree stumps, and found, after a while, that the +apparently barren sand could grow a good sward. No one would think +anything could flourish on such an arid sand, exposed at a great +height on the open hill to the cutting winds. Contrary, however, to +appearances, fair crops, and sometimes two crops of hay are +yielded, and there is always a good bite for cattle. These +squatters consequently came to keep cows, sometimes one and +sometimes two—anticipating the three acres and a cow; and it +is very odd to hear the women at the hop-picking telling each other +they are going to churn to-night. They have, in fact, little +dairies. Such are the better class of squatters. But others there +are who have shown no industry, half-gipsies, who do anything but +work—tramp, beg, or poach; sturdy fellows, stalking round +with toy-brooms for sale, with all the blackguardism of both races. +They keep just within the law; they do not steal or commit +burglary; but decency, order, and society they set utterly at +defiance. For instance, a gentleman pleased with the splendid view +built a large mansion in one spot, never noticing that the entrance +was opposite a row of cottages, or rather thinking no evil of it. +The result was that neither his wife nor visitors could go in or +out without being grossly insulted, without rhyme or reason, merely +for the sake of blackguardism. Now, the pure gipsy in his tent or +the Anglo-Saxon labourer would not do this; it was the half-breed. +The original owner was driven from his premises; and they are said +to have changed hands several times since from the same cause. All +over the parish this half-breed element shows its presence by the +extraordinary and unusual coarseness of manner. The true English +rustic is always civil, however rough, and will not offend you with +anything unspeakable, so that at first it is quite bewildering to +meet with such behaviour in the midst of green lanes. This is the +explanation—the gipsy taint. Instead of the growing +population obliterating the gipsy, the gipsy has saturated the +English folk.</p> +<p>When people saw the red man driven from the prairies and +backwoods of America, and whole states as large as Germany without +a single Indian left, much was written on the extermination of the +aborigines by the stronger Saxon. As the generations lengthen, the +facts appear to wear another aspect. From the intermarriage of the +lower orders with the Indian squaws the Indian blood has got into +the Saxon veins, and now the cry is that the red man is +exterminating the Saxon, so greatly has he leavened the population. +The typical Yankee face, as drawn in <i>Punch</i>, is indeed the +red Indian profile with a white skin and a chimney-pot hat. Upon a +small scale the same thing has happened in this village by the +forest; the gipsy half-breed has stained the native blood. Perhaps +races like the Jew and gipsy, so often quoted as instances of the +permanency of type, really owe that apparent fixidity to their +power of mingling with other nations. They are kept alive as races +by mixing; otherwise one of two things would happen—the Jew +and the gipsy must have died out, or else have supplanted all the +races of the globe. Had the Jews been so fixed a type, by this time +their offspring would have been more numerous than the Chinese. The +reverse, however, is the case; and therefore we may suppose they +must have become extinct, had it not been for fresh supplies of +Saxon, Teuton, Spanish, and Italian blood. It is, in fact, the +inter-marriages that have kept the falsely so-called pure races of +these human parasites alive. The mixing is continually going on. +The gipsies who still stay in their tents, however, look askance +upon those who desert them for the roof. Two gipsy women, +thorough-bred, came into a village shop and bought a variety of +groceries, ending with a pound of biscuits and a Guy Fawkes mask +for a boy. They were clad in dirty jackets and hats, draggle-tails, +unkempt and unwashed, with orange and red kerchiefs round their +necks (the gipsy colours). Happening to look out of window, they +saw a young servant girl with a perambulator on the opposite side +of the 'street;' she was tidy and decently dressed, looking after +her mistress's children in civilised fashion; but they recognised +her as a deserter from tribe, and blazed with contempt. 'Don't +<i>she</i> look a figure!' exclaimed these dirty creatures.</p> +<p>The short hours shorten, and the leaf-crop is gathered to the +great barn of the earth; the oaks alone, more tenacious, retain +their leaves, that have now become a colour like new leather. It is +too brown for buff—it is more like fresh harness. The berries +are red on the holly bushes and holly trees that grow, whole copses +of them, on the forest slopes—'the Great Rough;' the +half-wild sheep have polished the stems of these holly trees till +they shine, by rubbing their fleeces against them. The farmers have +been drying their damp wheat in the oast-houses over charcoal +fires, and wages are lowered, and men discharged. Vast loads of +brambles and thorns, dead firs, useless hop-poles and hop-bines, +and gorse are drawn together for the great bonfire on the green. +The 5th of November bonfires are still vital institutions, and from +the top of the hill you may see them burning in all directions, as +if an enemy had set fire to the hamlets.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="13">LOCALITY AND NATURE.</a></h3> +<p>By the side of the rivers of Exmoor there grows a great leaf, so +large it almost calls to mind those tropical leaves of which +umbrellas and even tents are made. This is of a rounder shape than +those of the palm, it is an elephant's ear among the foliage. The +sweet river slips on with a murmuring song, for these are the +rivers of the poets, and talk in verse for ever. Purple-tinted +stones are strewn about the shallows flat like tiles, and out among +the grass and the white orchis of the meadow. The floods carried +them there and left them dry in the sun. Among these grows a thick +bunch of mimulus or monkey-plant, well known in gardens, here +flourishing alone beside the stream. These two plants greatly +interested me: the last because it had long been a favourite in an +old garden and I had not before seen it growing wild; the other +because though I knew its large leaf by repute, this was the first +time I had come upon it. Now that little spot in the bend of the +river by means of these two plants is firmly impressed in my +memory, and is a joy to me whenever I think of it. The sunshine, +the song of the water, the pleasant green grass, the white orchis, +and the purplish stones were thereby rendered permanent to me. Such +is the wonderful power of plants. To any one who takes a delight in +wild flowers some spot or other of the earth is always becoming +consecrated.</p> +<p>There is, however, something curious about this butterbur. It is +related to the coltsfoot of the arable fields, and the coltsfoot +sends up a stalk without a leaf, and flowers before any green +appears. So, too, the butterbur of the river flowers before its +great leaf comes. Nothing is really common either, for everything +is so local that you may spend years, and in fact a lifetime, in a +district and never see a flower plentiful enough in another. Just +where I am staying now the pennywort grows on every wall attached +to the mortar between the cobbles. In some places you may search +the roads in vain for this little plant, which has this merit, that +its rounded leaf presents a fresh green in February. It does not +die away, it appears as green as spring, and pieces of the wall are +ornamented with it as thickly as the iron-headed nails in old +doors. One plant grows out of the hard stem of a hawthorn tree, as +if it were a parasite like the mistletoe; probably there is some +crack which the plant itself has hidden. If every plant and every +flower were found in all places the charm of locality would not +exist. Everything varies, and that gives the interest. These +purplish stones, where they lie in the water, seem to have a kind +of growth upon them—small knobs on the surface. On +examination each small roughness or knob will be found composed of +a number of very minute fragments of stone. It is a sort of cell, +probably built by a species of caddis. There was hardly a stone in +the rivers that was not dotted with these little habitations, so +that it seemed difficult to overlook them; but upon showing one to +a mighty hunter to know the local name, he declared he had never +noticed it before, and added that he did not care for such little +things. It is of such little things that great nature is made.</p> +<p>On the highest part of the Forest Ridge in Sussex, where the +soil is sandy and covered with heath, fern, and fir trees, there +never seemed to be any rooks. These birds, so very characteristic +of the country, appeared to be almost absent over several miles. +They went by sometimes, sailing down into the vale, but never +stopped on the hill, not even to walk the furrows behind the +plough. This would seem to indicate a remarkable absence of the +food they like, for it is very rare indeed for a piece of ground to +be fresh ploughed without rooks coming to it. There were rookeries +beneath in the plains where the elms and beeches grew tall, but the +birds never came up to forage. Crows could be found, and stopped on +the hill all the year. Wood-pigeons, like the rooks, went over, but +did not stay. Starlings were not at all plentiful; blackbirds and +thrushes were there, but not nearly so numerous as is usually the +case; fieldfares and redwings drifted by in the winter, but never +stopped. Slow-worms lived in the sand under the heath, and lizards, +but no snakes and only a few adders. Inquiring of an old man if +there were many snakes about, he said no; the soil was too poor for +them; but in some places down in the vale he had dug up a gallon of +snakes' eggs in the 'maxen.' The word was noticeable as a survival +of the old English 'mixen' for manure heap. Swallows, martins, and +swifts abounded; and as for insects, they were +countless—honey-bees, wild bees, humble-bees, varieties of +wasps, butterflies—an endless list. So common a plant as the +arum did not seem to exist; on the other hand, ferns literally made +up the hedges, growing in such quantities as to take the place of +the grasses. There was, too, a great variety of moss and fungi. The +soil looked black and fertile, and new-comers thought they were +going to have good crops, but when these failed they found, upon +examining the earth, that it was little more than black sand, and +the particles of silica glittered if a handful were held in the +sun. Such a sand would give the impression of dryness, instead of +which it was extremely damp—damp all the year round.</p> +<p>For contrast, a place on the coast just opposite, as it were, +and almost within view, at the same time of year seemed to have no +bees. A great field of clover in flower was silent; there was no +hum, nor glistening of wings. Butterflies rarely came along. +Swallows were not common. In the rich loam it was curious to note +mussel-shells, quite recent, in good preservation, and a geologist +might wonder at the layers of them in such an earth; the farmer +would smile, and say the mussels were carted there for manure. +Another place, again, in the same county is full of rooks, and the +arum is green on the banks. These items in a small area show how +different places are, and if you move from locality to locality +everything you have read about is by degrees seen in reality. In an +old book, the History of Northampton, which I chanced to look at, +among other curiosities, the author a hundred years ago mentioned a +substance called star shot, which appeared in the meadows +overnight, and seemed to have dropped from the sky. This I had not +then seen, but many years afterwards came suddenly, by a copse, on +a quantity of jelly-like substance with a most unpleasant aspect, +but which did not in any other way offend the senses. It had shot +up in the night, and was gone next day. It is a fungus unnoticed +till it suddenly swells; I suppose this was the old chronicler's +star shot. Nor do I think it too small a thing that the common +snail makes a straight track over everything; if he comes to the +wall of a house he goes straight up without the smallest +hesitation, and explores a good height before he comes down again; +if he finds a loaf of bread in the cellar he never thinks of going +round it, but travels in a Roman road up and over. So do the armies +of ants in warmer climates, and this proceeding in an invariable +line irrespective of obstacles seems to be peculiar to many +creatures, and is the reason why such 'plagues' were and are so +dreaded. Nothing could divert the straight march of the locusts; +nothing could divert the course of the millions of butterflies that +sometimes cross the Channel and arrive here from the Continent.</p> +<p>The tenacity of insects in anything they have once begun is +shown in many ways; you cannot drive away a fly or a gnat, and if a +colony of ants take up their home in the garden they will hardly +move till all are destroyed. Aristotle mentions the diseases of +swine, so it will not be amiss to record that in the country swine +are supposed to suffer from water-brash, and to relieve themselves +by eating dry earth, for which purpose those that run loose are +continually tearing up the ground. Human beings so affected show a +similar tendency for dry food, as oatmeal. Sometimes the liver of +calves and bullocks is small and dry, of very little use for food; +this is found to be due to the neglect of providing them with dry +standing-ground when fattening. To ensure their fattening properly +they should stand on dry and high ground, and they should be +plentifully supplied with dry litter. This fact may be of value to +some suffering person; it points to the necessity of dry warm feet, +dry subsoil, and drainage if the liver is to be in good order. +Popular suspicion, if not science, attaches many other diseases +besides those that actually consume that organ to the abnormal +action of the liver, possibly lung disease. Such trifling +circumstances are not so trifling as they appear. A case came under +my notice quite recently when a person had been helpless from +paralysis for several years. Chance compelled removal to another +house, and very soon the paralysis began to disappear. The first +house may have been damp, or there may have been some minute +conditions besides. It certainly is a marked fact that in the +country, at all events, one house is noted for its healthiness and +another close by for its unhealthiness, and the cause is not +traceable to the usual and obvious reason of drainage or water. Any +one who has noticed the remarkable influence of locality in the +more evident vegetation—such, for instance, as +lichens—will be able to suppose the possibility of minute +organisms—microbe, bacteria, whatever you like to call +them—being more persistent in one spot than in another. I +have often thought of the half-magical art of the Chinese, +Feng-shui, by which they discover if a place be fortunate and fit +for a house. It seems to suggest something of this kind, and I +think there is a great deal yet to be discovered by the diligent +observation of localities. The experience of the rudest country +rustic is not to be despised; an observation is an observation, +whoever makes it; there has been an air of too much science in the +affected derision of our forefathers' wisdom</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="14">COUNTRY PLACES.</a></h3> +<h4 align="center">I.</h4> +<p>High up and facing every one who enters a village there still +remains an old notice-board with the following +inscription:—'All persons found wandering abroad, lying, +lodging, or being in any barn, outhouse, or in the open air, and +not giving a good account of themselves, will be apprehended as +rogues and vagabonds, and be either publicly whipt or sent to the +house of correction, and afterwards disposed of according to law, +by order of the magistrates. Any person who shall apprehend any +rogue or vagabond will be entitled to a reward of ten shillings.' +It very often happens that we cannot see the times in which we +actually live. A thing must be gone by before you can see it, just +as it must be printed before it is read. This little bit of +weather-stained board may serve, perhaps, to throw up the present +into a picture so that it may be visible. For this inhuman law +still holds good, and is not obsolete or a mere relic of barbarism. +The whipping, indeed, is abrogated for very shame's sake; so is the +reward to the informer; but the magistrate and the imprisonment and +the offence remain. You must not sleep in the open, either in a +barn or a cart-house or in a shed, in the country, or on a +door-step in a town, or in a boat on the beach; and if you have no +coin in your pocket you are still more diabolically +wicked—you are a vagrom man, and the cold cell is your proper +place. This is the Jubilee year, too, of the mildest and best reign +of the Christian era. Something in this weather-beaten board to be +very proud of, is it not? Something human and comforting and +assuring to the mind that we have made so much progress. The pagan +Roman Empire reached from the wall of Severus in the north of +England to Athens of the philosophers; it included our islands, +France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Austria, Greece, Turkey in Europe +and Asia, Egypt—the whole world of those days. No one could +escape from it, because it enclosed all; you could not take refuge +in Spain on account of the absence of an extradition treaty; no +forger, no thief, no political offender could get out of it. A +crushing power this, quite unknown in our modern world, with all +our engines, steamers, and telegraphs. A man may hide himself +somewhere now, but from the power of old Rome there was no running +away. And all this, too, was under the thumb of one irresponsible +will, in an age when human life was of no value, and there was no +State institution preaching gentleness in every village. Yet even +then there was no such law as this, and in this respect we are more +brutal than was the case nineteen centuries ago. This +weather-beaten board may also serve to remind us that in this +Jubilee year the hateful workhouse still endures; that people are +imprisoned for debt under the mockery of contempt of court; that a +man's household goods, down to the bed on which he sleeps, and the +tools warm from his hand, may be sold. In the West End of London a +poor woman, an ironer, being in debt, her six children's clothes +were seized. What a triumph for the Jubilee year! Instead of +building a Church House to add another thousand tons to the +enormous weight of ecclesiastical bricks and mortar that cumbers +the land, would it not be more human to signalise the time by the +abolition of these cruel laws, and by the introduction of some +system to gradually emancipate the poor from the workhouse, which +is now their master?</p> +<p>In the gathering dusk of the afternoon I saw a mouse rush to a +wall—a thick stone wall,—run up it a few inches, and +disappear in a chink under some grey lichen. The poor little biter, +as the gipsies call the mouse, had a stronghold wherein to shelter +himself, and close by there was a corn-rick from which he drew free +supplies of food. A few minutes afterwards I was interested in the +movements of a pair of wrens that were playing round the great +trunk of an elm, flying from one to another of the little twigs +standing out from the rough bark. First one said something in wren +language, and then the other answered; they were husband and wife, +and after a long consultation they flew to the corn-rick and crept +into a warm hole under the thatch. So both these, the least of +animals and the least of birds, have a resource, and man is the +only creature that punishes his fellow for daring to lie down and +sleep.</p> +<p>Up in the plain there were some mounds, or <i>tumuli</i>, about +which nothing seemed to be known, though they had evidently been +cut into and explored. At last, however, a farmer—Mr. Nestor +Hay, who knew everything—told me something about them. He cut +them open. He had an old county history and several other volumes +which had somehow accumulated in the Manor-house Farm, and, like +many country people, he was extremely fond of studying the past. He +fancied there might have been a battle in that locality, and hence +these mounds, but could find no reference to them anywhere, so he +dug through one or two of them himself, without success; the soil +did not seem to have ever been disturbed, consequently they might +have been natural. 'Perhaps I should have found out something +though,' he said, with a smile,'if it had not been for that there +old dog as we used to keep in the tub at the back of the house. +Such a lot of folk used to come to our back door all day long after +victuals, some out of the village, and some from the next parish, +and some as went round regular, and gipsy chaps, and chaps as +pretended to come from London—you never saw such a +crowd,—just because the old man and the missus was rather +good to 'em. So there they was a-clacking at that door all day +long. But this 'ere dog in the tub used to sarve 'em out sometimes +if they didn't mind. (Chuckle.) She never barked, or nothing of +that sort, never let 'em know as there was a dog there at all; +there she'd lie as quiet till they was just gone by a +little—then out she'd slip without a word behind them, and +solp 'em by the leg. Lord, how they did jump and holler! (Chuckle.) +See, they had the pinch afore they knowed as she was there. Lord, +what a lot she did bite to be sure! (thoughtfully); I can't tell 'e +how many, her did it so neat. That kept folk away a little, else I +suppose we shouldn't have had anything to eat ourselves. None of +'em never went wrong, you know, never went mad or anything of that +sort—never had to send nobody to Paris in them days to be +dog-vaccinated. Curious, wasn't it? Must have been something +different about folk then. However, this here dog was desperate +clever at it. As I was telling you, I dug through them mounds; +couldn't find no coins or anything; so I heard of a big +archæologist chap that was writing a new book about the +antiquities of the country, and I wrote to him about it, and he +said he would come and see them. The day he come was rather +roughish and cold: he seemed sort of bad when he come into the +house, and had to have some brandy. By-and-by he got better, and +out we started; but just as we was going through the yard this old +dog nips him by the hand—took him right through his +hand—made him look main straight. However, washed his hand +and bound it up, and started out again. (Chuckle.) Hadn't gone very +far, and was getting through a hedge, and dalled if he didn't fall +into the pond, flop! (Chuckle.) I suppose he didn't like it, for he +never said nothing about the mounds in his book when it come +out—left'em out altogether.'</p> +<p>This pond still exists, and Mr. Nestor Hay had noted a curious +thing about it. Across the middle of the pond a tree had fallen; it +was just on a level with the surface of the water. A pair of +water-rats always ate their food on this tree. They would go out +into the grass of the meadow, bite off the vegetation that suited +their taste, and carry it back in their mouths to the tree, and +there eat it in safety, with water, as it were, all round them like +a moat. This they did a hundred times—in fact, every day. +'But,' said Mr. Hay, 'you can't watch nothing now a minute without +some great lout coming along with a stale baccy pipe in his mouth, +making the air stink; they spoils everything, these here half-towny +fellows; everybody got a neasty stale pipe in their mouths, and +they gets over the hedges anywhere, and disturbs everything.' It is +common on the banks of a stream or a pond to see half a dozen of +these little beaver-like water-voles out feeding in the grass, and +they eat it when they find it. At this particular pond the two rats +diverged from the custom of their race, and always took their food +to a place of safety first. If he is alarmed the water-rat +instantly dives, and his idea of security is a spot where he can +drop like a stone under the surface without a moment's reflection. +Mr. Hay could not understand why the water-rats were so timid at +this pond till he recollected that the preceding summer two +schoolboys used to get up in an oak that overhung the water, each +with a catapult, and, firing bullets from these india-rubber +weapons on the water-rats underneath, slew nearly every one of +them. The few left had evidently learnt extreme caution from the +misfortune of their friends, and no longer trusted themselves away +from the water, into which they could slip at the movement of a +shadow.</p> +<p>Mr. Hay disliked to see the slouching fellows making tracks +across his fields, every one of which he looked on with as much +jealousy as if it had been a garden—a wild garden they were +too, strewn sometimes with the white cotton of the plane tree, hung +about with roses and sweet with mowing.grass. Those who love fields +and every briar in the hedge dislike to see them entered +irreverently. I have just the same feeling myself even of fields +and woods in which I have no personal interest; it jars upon me to +see nature profaned. These fellows were a 'Black George' lot, in +hamlet language. Nestor Hay knew everybody in the village round +about, their fathers and grandfathers, their politics and religious +opinions, and whether they were new folk or ancient +inhabitants—an encyclopædic knowledge not written, an +Homeric memory. For I imagine in ancient days when books were +scarce that was how men handed down the history of the chiefs of +Troy. An Homeric memory for everything—superstitions, +traditions, anecdotes; the only difficulty was that you could not +command it. You could not turn to letter A or B and demand +information direct about this or that; you must wait till it came +up incidentally in conversation. In one of the villages there was a +young men's club, and, among other advantages, when they were +married they could have a cradle for nothing. A cottager had a +child troubled with a slight infirmity; the doctor ordered the +mother to prepare a stew of mice and give him the gravy. There +happened to be some threshing going on, and one of the men caught +her nine mice, which she skinned and cooked. She did not much like +the task, but she did it, and the child never knew but that it was +beef gravy. It cured him completely. This is the second time I have +come across this curious use of mice. I had heard of it as a +traditional resource among the country people, but in this case it +seemed to have been ordered by a medical practitioner. Perhaps, +after all, there may be something in the strange remedies and +strange mixtures of remedies so often described in old books, and +what we now deride may not have been without its value. If an +empirical remedy will cure you, it is of more use than a scientific +composition which ought to cure you but does not. How much depends +on custom! The woman felt a repugnance to skinning the mice, yet +they are the cleanest creatures, living on grain; she would have +skinned a hare or rabbit without hesitation, and have cooked and +eaten bacon, though the pig is not a cleanly feeder. It is a +country remark that the pig's foot—often seen on the +table—has as many bones as there are letters of the alphabet. +The grapnel kept at every village draw-well is called the grabhook; +the plant called honesty (because both sides of the flower are +alike) is old woman's penny. If you lived in the country you might +be alarmed late in the evening by hearing the tramp of feet round +your house. But it is not burglars; it is young fellows with a +large net and a lantern after the sparrows in the ivy. They have a +prescriptive right to enter every garden in the village. They cry +'sparrow catchers' at the gate, and people sit still, knowing it is +all right. In the jealous suburb of a city the dwellers in the +villas would shrink from this winter custom, the constable would +soon have orders to stop it; in the country people are not so +rigidly exclusive. Now it is curious that the sparrows and +blackbirds, yellowhammers and greenfinches, that roost in the +bushes, fly into the net and are easily captured, but the +starlings—thanks to their different ways in +daylight—always fly out at the top of the bush, and so +escape.</p> +<h4 align="center">II.</h4> +<p>A black cannon ball lies in a garden, an ornament like a shell +or a fossil, among blue lobelia and green ferns. It is about as big +as a cricket ball—a mere trifle to look at. What a contrast +with the immense projectiles thrown by modern guns! Yet it is very +heavy—quite out of proportion to its size. Imagine iron +cricket balls bounding along the grass and glancing at unexpected +angles, smashing human beings instead of wickets. This cannon ball +is not a memorial of the Civil War. It was shot at a carter with +his waggon. Our grandfathers had no idea of taking care of other +people's lives. Every man had to look out for himself; if you got +in the way, that was your fault. A battery was practising, and they +did not trouble themselves about the highway road which skirted the +range; and as the carter was coming home with his waggon one of the +balls ricocheted and rolled along in front of his horses. He picked +it up and brought it home, and there it has lain many a long year, +a silent witness, like the bricks Jack Cade put in the chimney, to +the extraordinary change of ideas which has taken place. We are all +expected nowadays to think not only of ourselves but of others, and +if a man fires a gun without due precautions, and injures or even +might have injured another, he is liable. All our legislation and +all the drift of public opinion goes in this direction. Men were +the same then as now; the change in this respect shows the immense +value of ideas. They were then quite strangers to the very idea of +taking any thought for those who might chance to be in the way. +That has been inculcated of recent years. Those were the days when +there was an irresponsible tyrant in every village, who could not +indeed hang men at his castle gate by feudal right of gallows, but +who could as effectually silence them by setting in motion laws +made by the rich for the rich. It is on record how a poor carrier, +whose only fortune was a decrepit horse, dared presumptuously, +against the will of the lord of the manor, to water his horse at a +roadside pond. For this offence he was taken before the justices +and fined, his goods seized,—</p> +<pre> + And the knackers had his silly old horse, + And so John Harris was bowled out! +</pre> +Then there was a still more terrible offence—a hungry man +picked up a rabbit. 'How dared John Bartlett for to venture for to +go for to grab it?' But they put him in gaol and cured him of 'that +there villanous habit,' which rhymes, and the tale thereof may be +found by the student of old times in the 'Punch' of the day—a +good true honest manly Punch, who brought his staff down heavily on +the head of abuses and injustice. We do things every day in the +present age equally unjust and cruel, only we cannot see them; as +some one observed, one cannot see the eye because it is so close to +the sight. In the almost sacred name of education tyrannies are +being enacted surpassing anything recorded in the most outlying +village in the most outlying time. One constantly sees cases of +poor people sent to prison because they happen to have children. No +other reason can be detected. <br> +<br> +<p>Our great-grandfathers' doctors never used to trouble themselves +to write prescriptions for their poorer patients; they used to keep +two or three mixtures always made up ready in great jars, and ladle +them out. There was the bread and cheese mixture, very often called +for, as the ailments of the labourers are commonly traceable to a +heavy diet of cheese. As an old doctor used to say when he was +called to a cottage, 'Hum; s'pose you've been eating too much fat +bacon and cabbage!' Another was the club mixture, called for about +May, when the village clubs are held and extra beer disturbs the +economy. In factory towns, where the mechanics have dispensaries +and employ doctors, something of the same sort of story has got +about at the present day. The women are constantly coming for +physic, and the assistants are stated to gravely measure a little +peppermint and colour it pink or yellow, which does as well. Great +invalids with long pockets, who have paid their scores of guineas +and gone the round of fashionable physicians, do not seem to have +received much more benefit than if they had themselves chosen the +yellow or pink hue of their tinted water. It is wonderful what +value the country poor set on a bottle of physic; they are twice as +grateful for it as for a good dinner. Some of the doctors of old +are said to have had an eye for an old book, or an old clock, or an +old bit of furniture or china in the cottage, and when the patient +was recovering they would take a fancy to it and buy it at their +own valuation, for of course the humble labourer was obliged to +regard such a wish as a command. The workhouse system puts the +labourer completely under the thumb of the clergyman and the +doctor. It was in this way that many good old pieces of work +gradually found their destination in great London collections. Once +now and then, however, the eager collector would come across some +one independent, and meet with a sharp refusal to part with the old +china bowl. The wife of a small farmer naïvely remarked about +the tithes, 'You know it is such a lot to pay, and we never go +there to church; you know it is too far to walk.' It was not the +doctrine to which she objected—it was the paying for nothing; +paying and never having anything. The farmers, staunch upholders of +Church and State, are always grumbling because the clergy are +constantly begging. One man took a deep oath that if the clergyman +ever came to his house without asking for money he would cut a deep +notch with his knife in the oaken doorpost. Ten years went by, +still more years, and still no notch was cut. Odd things happen in +odd places. There is a story of an old mansion where a powerful +modern stove was put in an ancient hearth under a mantelpiece +supported by carved oak figures of knights. The unwonted heat +roasted the toes of these martyrs till their feet fell off. Another +story relates how in our grandfathers' days a great man invited his +friends to dinner, promising them a new dish that had never before +been set upon the table. The fillet came in on the shoulders of +several men, and when the cover was removed, lo an actress in a +state of nature! One farmer lent his friend his dogcart. Time went +on, and the dogcart was not returned; a year went by, still no +cart. Country people are very peculiar in this respect, and do not +like to remind their friends of obligations. Two years went by, and +still no return, though the parties were in constant intercourse. I +have known people borrow a hundred pounds in the country, and +debtor and creditor meet several times a week for years, and +nothing said about it on either side. No strained relations were +caused—it seemed quite forgotten till executors came. Three +years went by, still no dogcart, though it was seen daily on the +roads in use. I was driving with a man once when we met a woman +walking, and as we passed she put up her umbrella so as not to be +able to see us. 'That's So-and-so,' said he; 'they borrowed some +money from me a long time ago; they have never said anything about +it. Whenever she meets me she always puts up her umbrella so as not +to see me.' Four years went by, and still no dogcart. By this time +it was looking shabby and getting shaken by rough usage; perhaps +they did not like to return it in such a condition. Five years went +by, and after that they seem to have lost all count of the dogcart, +which faded away like a phantom. One farmer had been telling +another something which his companion seemed to consider doubtful, +and disputed; however, he finished up by saying, 'That's no lie, I +can assure you.' 'Well, no; but I should certainly have taken it as +such.' One fellow happening by chance in the hunting-field to come +across the Prince of Wales, took off his hat with <i>both</i> hands +to express his deep humility. Here is a cottage nursery rhyme, +genuinely silly:—</p> +<pre> + Right round my garden + There I found a farden, + Gave it to my mother + To buy a little brother, + Brother was so cross + Sat him on a horse, + Horse was so randy + Gave him some brandy, + Brandy was so strong + Put him in the pond, + Pond was so deep + Put him in the cradle and + rocked him off to sleep. +</pre> +It is curious that there seems to be a distinct race of flat heads +among the cottagers; the children look as if the front part of the +head had been sat upon and compressed. Straw hats, the common sort, +seem to be made to fit these shallow crowns. In some parts they +cook dates; others cook oranges, making them into dumplings and +also stewing them. These are favourite sweets. To go out singing +from door to door at Christmas is called wassailing—a relic +of the ancient time when wassail was a common word. When I was a +boy, among other out-of-the-way pursuits, I took an interest in +astrology. The principal work on astrology, from which all the +others have been more or less derived, is Ptolemy's 'Tetrabiblos,' +and there, pointing out the mysterious influence of one thing upon +another, it mentions that the virtues of the magnet may be +destroyed by rubbing it with garlic. This curious statement has +been thrown against Ptolemy and held to invalidate his theories, +because upon experiment garlic is not found to affect the magnet. +Possibly, however, the plant Ptolemy meant may not have been the +plant we now call garlic, for there is nothing so uncertain as the +names of plants. There is a great confusion, and it is difficult to +identify with certainty apparently well-known herbs with those used +by the ancients. Possibly, too, the experiment was performed in a +different manner. It happened one day, many years after reading +this, I chanced to be talking to a village clockmaker about +watches. We were discussing what a difficulty it was sometimes to +get a watch to go right. I said I had heard that watches sometimes +got magnetised, and went on in the most erratic manner until the +magnetism was counteracted. Ah yes, he said, he recollected a case +in the shop where he learnt his trade; they had a watch brought to +them which had got magnetised, and he believed the influence was at +last removed by the use of onions. Instantly memory ran back to +Ptolemy's garlic; perhaps after all there was something in his +statement; at all events, it is very curious that the subject +should come up again in this unexpected way, in the darkness, as it +were, of a village where the very name of the great mathematician +was unknown. The clockmaker fumbled with an anecdote, and tried to +tell me of another sort of magnetism which had got into a watch. +The watch would not keep time, nothing would make it; till +by-and-by it occurred to him to suggest to the owner to wind it up +at breakfast-time instead of at night. For he fancied the owner +became a little magnetised himself at night over the genial bowl, +and so was irregular in winding his watch. <br> +<br> + +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="15">FIELD WORDS AND WAYS.</a></h3> +<p>The robin, 'jolly Robin!' is an unlucky bird in some places. +When the horse-chestnut leaves turn scarlet the redbreast sings in +a peculiarly plaintive way, as if in tone with the dropping leaves +and the chill air that follows the early morning frost. You may +tell how much moisture there is in the air in a given place by the +colours of the autumn leaves; the horse-chestnut, scarlet near a +stream, is merely yellowish in drier soils. Cock robin sings the +louder for the silence of other birds, and if he comes to the +farmstead and pipes away day by day on a bare cherry tree or any +bough that is near the door, after his custom, the farmer thinks it +an evil omen. For a robin to sing persistently near the house +winter or summer is a sign that something is about to go wrong. Yet +the farmer will not shoot him. The roughest poaching fellows who +would torture a dog will not kill a robin; it is bad luck to have +anything to do with it. Most people like to see fir boughs and +holly brought into the house to brighten the dark days with their +green, but the cottage children tell you that they must not bring a +green fir branch indoors, because as it withers their parents will +be taken ill and fade away. Indeed the labouring people seem in all +their ways and speech to be different, survivals perhaps of a time +when their words and superstitions were the ways of a ruder +England. The lanes and the gateways in the fields, as they say, are +'slubby' enough in November, and those who try to go through get +'slubbed' up to their knees. This expresses a soft, plastic, and +adhesive condition of the mud which comes on after it has been +'raining hop-poles' for a week. The labourer has little else to do +but to chop up disused hop-poles into long fagots with a +hand-bill—in other counties a bill-hook. All his class +bitterly resent the lowering of wages which takes place in winter; +it is a shame, they say, and they evidently think that the farmers +ought to be forced to pay them more—they are starvation +wages. On the other hand, the farmer, racked in every direction, +and unable to sell his produce, finds the labour bill the most +difficult to meet, because it comes with unfailing regularity every +Saturday. A middle-aged couple of cottagers left their home, and +the wife told us how they had walked and walked day after day, but +the farmers said they were too poor to give them a job. So at last +the man, as they went grumbling on the highway, lost his temper, +and hit her a 'clod' in the head, 'and I never spoke to him for an +<i>hour</i> afterwards; no, that I didn't; not for an hour.' A clod +is a heavy, lumping blow. Their home was 'broad' of +Hurst—that is, in the Hurst district, but at some little +distance.</p> +<p>'There a' sets' is a constant expression for there it lies. A +dish on the table, a cat on the hearth, a plough in the field, +'there a' sets,' there it is. 'No bounds' is another. It may rain +all day long, 'there's no bounds;' that is, no knowing. 'I may go +to fair, no bounds,' it is uncertain, I have not made up my mind. A +folk so vague in their ideas are very fond of this 'no bounds;' it +is like the 'Quien sabe?' of the Mexicans, who knows? and +accompanies every remark. An avaricious person is very 'having;' +wants to have everything. What are usually called dog-irons on the +hearth are called brand-irons, having to support the brand or +burning log. Where every one keeps fowls the servant girls are +commonly asked if they can cram a chicken, if they understand how +to fatten it by filling its crop artificially. 'Sure,' pronounced +with great emphasis on the 'su,' like the 'shure' of the Irish, +comes out at every sentence. 'I shan't do it all, sure;' and if any +one is giving a narration, the polite listener has to throw in a +deep 'sure' of assent at every pause. 'Cluttered up' means in a +litter, surrounded with too many things to do at once. Of a little +girl they said she was pretty, but she had 'bolted' eyes; a +portrait was a good one, but 'his eyes bolt so, meaning thereby +full, staring eyes, that seem to start out of the head. A drunken +man, says the poor wife, is not worth a hatful of crab apples. The +boys go hoop-driving, never bowling. If in any difficulty they say, +'I hope to match it out to the end of the week,' to make the +provisions last, or fit the work in. Most difficult of all to +express is the way they say yes and no. It is neither yes nor no, +nor yea nor nay, but a cross between it somehow. To say yes they +shut their lips and then open them as if gasping for breath and +emit a sort of 'yath' without the 'th,' more like 'yeah,' and +better still if to get the closing of the lips you say 'em' +first—'em-yeah.' The no is 'nah' with a sort of jerk on the +h; 'na-h,' This yeah and nah is most irritating to fresh ears; you +do not seem to know if your servant has taken any notice of what +you said, or is making a mouth at you in derision.</p> +<p>The farmers are always complaining that the men crawl through +their work and put no energy into anything, just as if they were +afraid to use their hands. More particularly, if there is any +little extra thing to be done, they could not possibly do it. A +wheat rick was threshed one day, and when it was finished in the +afternoon there were the sacks in a great heap about twenty or +thirty yards from the barn. So soon as the rick was finished, the +men asked for their money as usual, when the farmer said he wanted +them to carry the sacks into the barn before they left. Oh no, they +couldn't do that. 'Well, then,' said he, 'I can't pay you till you +have done it.' No, they couldn't do it, couldn't be expected to +carry sacks of wheat across the rickyard and into the barn like +that, it was too much for any man to do; why couldn't he send for +the cart? The farmer replied that the cart was two miles away, +engaged in other labour; the night was coming on, and if it rained +in the night the wheat would be damaged. No, they couldn't do it. +The farmer would not pay them, and so the dispute continued for a +long time. At length the farmer said, 'Well, if you won't do it, +perhaps you will at least help me as far as this: will you lift up +a sack and place it on another high enough for me to get it on my +back, and I will myself carry them to the barn?' So small a favour +they could not refuse, and having raised up a sack for him in this +manner, he took it on his back and made off with it to the barn. He +was anything but a strong man—far less able to carry a sack +of wheat than the labourers—but determined not to be beaten. +He carried one sack, then another and another, till he had got +eight safely housed, when on coming back for the ninth he met a +labourer with a sack on his back, shamed into giving assistance. +After him a second man took a sack, and one by one they all +followed, till in about half an hour all the wheat was in the barn. +This is the spirit in which they work if the least little +difficulty occurs, or they are asked to do anything that varies +from what they did yesterday or the day before, they cannot +possibly accomplish it.</p> +<p>Since, however, the farmers have been unable to sell their +produce and winter wages have gone down, and work is scarce, the +position of the labourer is a very dull one, and it is feared the +present winter will be a hard time for many homes. Numbers talk of +emigrating, and some have taken the first step, and will sell their +furniture and leave a land where neither farmer nor labourer has +any hope. One middle-aged cottage woman, married, kept harping upon +the holiday they should have during the voyage to America. That +seemed to her the great beauty of emigration, the great temptation. +For ten days, while the voyage lasted, she would have nothing to +do, but could rest! She had never had such a holiday in all her +life. How hard must be the life which makes such a trifling +circumstance as a week's rest appear so heavenly!</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="16">COTTAGE IDEAS.</a></h3> +<p>Passing by the kitchen door, I heard Louisa, the maid, chanting +to a child on her knee:</p> +<pre> + Feyther stole th' Paason's sheep; + A merry Christmas we shall keep; + We shall have both mutton and beef— +<i>But we won't say nothing about it</i>. +</pre> +To rightly understand this rhyme you must sing it with long-drawn +emphasis on each word, lengthening it into at least two syllables; +the first a sort of hexameter, the second a pentameter of sound: +<pre> + Fey-ther sto-ole th' Paa-son's sheep. +</pre> +The last line is to come off more trippingly, like an 'aside.' This +old sing-song had doubtless been handed down from the times when +the labourers really did steal sheep, a crime happily extinct with +cheap bread. Louisa was one of the rare old +sort—hard-working, and always ready; never complaining, but +satisfied with any food there chanced to be; sensible and sturdy; a +woman who could be thoroughly depended on. Her boxes were full of +good dresses, of a solid, unassuming kind, such as would wear +well—a perfect wardrobe. Her purse was always well supplied +with money; she had money saved up, and she sent money to her +parents: yet her wages, until late years, had been small. In doing +her duty to others she did good to herself. A duchess would have +been glad to have her in her household. She had been in farmhouse +service from girlhood, and had doubtless learned much from good +housewives; farmers' wives are the best of all teachers: and the +girls, for their own sakes, had much better be under them than +wasting so much time learning useless knowledge at compulsory +schools. +<pre> + Freckles said, when he came in, + He never would enter a tawny skin, +</pre> +was another of her rhymes. Freckles come in with summer, but never +appear on a dark skin, so that the freckled should rejoice in these +signs of fairness. +<pre> + Your father, the elderberry, + Was not such a gooseberry + As to send in his bilberry + Before it was dewberry. +</pre> +Some children are liable to an unpleasant complaint at night; for +this there is a certain remedy. A mouse is baked in the oven to a +'scrump,' then pounded to powder, and this powder administered. +Many ladies still have faith in this curious medicine; it reminds +one of the powdered mummy, once the great cure of human ills. +Country places have not always got romantic names—Wapse's +Farm, for instance, and Hog's Pudding Farm. Wapse is the provincial +for wasp. <br> +<br> +<p>Country girls are not all so shrewd as Louisa: we heard of +two—this was some time since—who, being in service in +London, paid ten shillings each to Madame Rachel for a bath to be +made beautiful for ever. Half a sovereign out of their few coins! +On the other hand, town servants are well dressed and have plenty +of finery, but seldom have any reserve of good clothing, such as +Louisa possessed. All who know the country regret the change that +has been gradually coming over the servants and the class from +which they are supplied. 'Gawd help the pore missis as gets hold of +<i>you</i>!' exclaimed a cottage woman to her daughter, whose +goings on had not been as they should be: 'God help the poor +mistress who has to put up with you!' A remark that would be most +emphatically echoed by many a farmer's wife and country resident. +'Doan't you stop if her hollers at 'ee,' said another cottage +mother to her girl, just departing for service—that is, don't +stop if you don't like it; don't stop if your mistress finds the +least fault. 'Come along home if you don't like it.' Home to what? +In this instance it was a most wretched hovel, literally built in a +ditch; no convenience, no sanitation; and the father a drunkard, +who scarcely brought enough money indoors to supply bread.</p> +<p>You would imagine that a mother in such a position would impress +upon her children the necessity of endeavouring to do something. +For the sake of that spirit of independence in which they seem to +take so much pride, one would suppose they would desire to see +their children able to support themselves. But it is just the +reverse; the poorer folk are, the less they seem to care to try to +do something. 'You come home if you don't like it;' and stay about +the hovel in slatternly idleness, tails bedraggled and torn, thin +boots out at the toes and down at the heels, half starved on +potatoes and weak tea—stay till you fall into disgrace, and +lose the only thing you possess in the world—your birthright, +your character. Strange advice it was for a mother to give.</p> +<p>Nor is the feeling confined to the slatternly section, but often +exhibited by very respectable cottagers indeed.</p> +<p>'My mother never would go out to service—she +<i>wouldn't</i> go,' said a servant to her mistress, one day +talking confidentially.</p> +<p>'Then what did she do?' asked the mistress, knowing they were +very poor people.</p> +<p>'Oh, she stopped at home.'</p> +<p>'But how did she live?'</p> +<p>'Oh, her father had to keep her. If she wouldn't go out, of +course he had to somehow.'</p> +<p>This mother would not let her daughter go to one place because +there was a draw-well on the premises; and her father objected to +her going to another because the way to the house lay down a long +and lonely lane. The girl herself, however, had sense enough to +keep in a situation; but it was distinctly against the feeling at +her home; yet they were almost the poorest family in the place. +They were very respectable, and thought well of in every way, +belonging to the best class of cottagers.</p> +<p>Unprofitable sentiments! injurious +sentiments—self-destroying; but I always maintain that +sentiment is stronger than fact, and even than self-interest. I see +clearly how foolish these feelings are, and how they operate to the +disadvantage of those whom they influence. Yet I confess that were +I in the same position I should be just as foolish. If I lived in a +cottage of three rooms, and earned my bread by dint of arm and hand +under the sun of summer and the frost of winter; if I lived on hard +fare, and, most powerful of all, if I had no hope for the future, +no improvement to look forward to, I should feel just the same. I +would rather my children shared my crust than fed on roast beef in +a stranger's hall. Perhaps the sentiment in my case might have a +different origin, but in effect it would be similar. I should +prefer to see my family about me—the one only pleasure I +should have—the poorer and the more unhappy, the less I +should care to part with them. This may be foolish, but I expect it +is human nature.</p> +<p>English folk don't 'cotton' to their poverty at all; they don't +cat humble-pie with a relish; they resent being poor and despised. +Foreign folk seem to take to it quite naturally; an Englishman, +somehow or other, always feels that he is wronged. He is injured; +he has not got his rights. To me it seems the most curious thing +possible that well-to-do people should expect the poor to be +delighted with their condition. I hope they never will be; an evil +day that—if it ever came—for the Anglo-Saxon race.</p> +<p>One girl prided herself very much upon belonging to a sort of +club or insurance-if she died, her mother would receive ten pounds. +Ten pounds, ten golden sovereigns was to her such a magnificent +sum, that she really appeared to wish herself dead, in order that +it might be received. She harped and talked and brooded on it +constantly. If she caught cold it didn't matter, she would say, her +mother would have ten pounds. It seemed a curious reversal of +ideas, but it is a fact that poor folk in course of time come to +think less of death than money. Another girl was describing to her +mistress how she met the carter's ghost in the rickyard; the +waggon-wheel went over him; but he continued to haunt the old +scene, and they met him as commonly as the sparrows.</p> +<p>'Did you ever speak to him?'</p> +<p>'Oh no. You mustn't speak to them; if you speak to them they'll +fly at you.'</p> +<p>In winter the men were allowed to grub up the roots of timber +that had been thrown, and take the wood home for their own use; +this kept them in fuel the winter through without buying any. 'But +they don't get <i>paid</i> for that work.' She considered it quite +a hardship that they were not paid for taking a present. Cottage +people do look at things in such a curious crooked light! A mother +grumbled because the vicar had not been to see her child, who was +ill. Now, she was not a church-goer, and cared nothing for the +Church or its doctrines—that was not it; she grumbled so +terribly because 'it was his place to come.'</p> +<p>A lady went to live in a village for health's sake, and having +heard so much of the poverty of the farmer's man, and how badly his +family were off, thought that she should find plenty who would be +glad to pick up extra shillings by doing little things for her. +First she wanted a stout boy to help to draw her Bath chair, while +the footman pushed behind, it being a hilly country. Instead of +having to choose between half a dozen applicants, as she expected, +the difficulty was to discover anybody who would even take such a +job into consideration. The lads did not care about it; their +fathers did not care about it; and their mothers did not want them +to do it. At one cottage there were three lads at home doing +nothing; but the mother thought they were too delicate for such +work. In the end a boy was found, but not for some time. Nobody was +eager for any extra shilling to be earned in that way. The next +thing was somebody to fetch a yoke or two of spring water daily. +This man did not care for it, and the other did not care for it; +and even one who had a small piece of ground, and kept a donkey and +water-butt on wheels for the very purpose, shook his head. He +always fetched water for folk in the summer when it was dry, never +fetched none at that time of year—he could not do it. After a +time a small shopkeeper managed the yoke of water from the spring +for her—<i>his</i> boy could carry it; the labourer's could +not. He was comparatively well-to-do, yet he was not above an extra +shilling.</p> +<p>This is one of the most curious traits in the character of +cottage folk—they do not care for small sums; they do not +care to pick up sixpences. They seem to be <i>afraid of obliging +people</i>—as if to do so, even to their own advantage, would +be against their personal honour and dignity. In London the least +trifle is snapped up immediately, and there is a great crush and +press for permission to earn a penny, and that not in very +dignified ways. In the country it is quite different. Large +fortunes have been made out of matches; now your true country +cottager would despise such a miserable fraction of a penny as is +represented by a match. I heard a little girl singing—</p> +<pre> + Little drops of water, little grains of sand. +</pre> +It is these that make oceans and mountains; it is pennies that make +millionaires. But this the countryman cannot see. Not him alone +either; the dislike to little profits is a national characteristic, +well marked in the farmer, and indeed in all classes. I, too, must +be humble, and acknowledge that I have frequently detected the same +folly in myself, so let it not be supposed for an instant that I +set up as a censor; I do but delineate. Work for the cottager must +be work to please him; and to please him it must be the regular +sort to which he is accustomed, which he did beside his father as a +boy, which <i>his</i> father did, and <i>his</i> father before him; +the same old plough or grub-axe, the same milking, the same +identical mowing, if possible in the same field. He does not care +for any new-fangled jobs: he does not recognise them, they have no +<i>locus standi</i>—they are not established. Yet he is most +anxious for work, and works well, and is indeed the best labourer +in the world. But it is the national character. To understand a +nation you must go to the cottager. <br> +<br> +<p>The well-to-do are educated, they have travelled, if not in +their ideas, they are more or less cosmopolitan. In the cottager +the character stands out in the coarsest relief; in the cottager +you get to 'bed-rock,' as the Americans say; there's the +foundation. Character runs upwards, not downwards. It is not the +nature of the aristocrat that permeates the cottager, but the +nature of the cottager that permeates the aristocrat. The best of +us are polished cottagers. Scratch deep enough, and you come to +that; so that to know a people, go to the cottage, and not to the +mansion. The labouring man cannot quickly alter his ways. Can the +manufacturer? All alike try to go in the same old groove, till +disaster visits their persistence. It is English human nature.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="17">APRIL GOSSIP</a></h3> +<p>The old woman tried to let the cuckoo out of the basket at +Heathfield fair as usual on the 14th; but there seems to have been +a hitch with the lid, for he was not heard immediately about the +country. Just before that two little boys were getting over a gate +from a hop-garden, with handfuls of Lent lilies—a beautiful +colour under the dark sky. They grow wild round the margin of the +hop garden, showing against the bare dark loam; gloomy cloud over +and gloomy earth under. 'Sell me a bunch?' 'No, no, can't do that; +we wants these yer for granmer.' 'Well, get me a bunch presently, +and I will give you twopence for it.' 'I dunno. We sends the +bunches we finds up to Aunt Polly in Lunnon, and they sends us back +sixpence for every bunch.' So the wild flowers go to Lunnon from +all parts of the country, bushels and bushels of them. Nearly two +hundred miles away in Somerset a friend writes that he has been +obliged to put up notice-boards to stay the people from tearing up +his violets and primroses, not only gathering them but making the +flowery banks waste; and notice-boards have proved no safeguard. +The worst is that the roots are taken, so that years will be +required to repair the loss. Birds are uncertain husbandmen, and +sow seeds as fancy leads their wings. Do the violets get sown by +ants? Sir John Lubbock says they carry violet seeds into their +nests.</p> +<p>The lads, who still pelt the frogs in the ponds, just as they +always did, in spite of so much schooling, call them chollies. +Pheasants are often called peacocks. Bush-harrows, which are at +work in the meadows at this time of year, are drudges or dredges. +One sunny morning I noticed the broken handle of a jug on the bank +of the road by the garden. What interested me was the fine shining +glaze of this common piece of red earthenware. And how had the +potter made that peculiar marking under the surface of the glaze? I +touched it with my stick, when the pot-handle drew itself out of +loop shape and slowly disappeared under some dead furze, showing +the blunt tail of a blindworm. I have heard people say that the red +ones are venomous, but the grey harmless. The red are spiteful, and +if you see them in the road you should always kill them. It is +curious that in places where blindworms are often seen their +innocuous nature should not be generally known. They are even +called adders sometimes. At the farm below, the rooks have been +down and destroyed the tender chickens not long hatched; they do +not eat the whole of the chicken, but disembowel it for food. Rooks +are very wide feeders, especially at nesting-time. They are +suspected of being partial to the young of partridge and pheasant, +as well as to the eggs.</p> +<p>Looking down upon the treetops of the forest from a height, +there seemed to come from day to day a hoariness in the boughs, a +greyish hue, distinct from the blackness of winter. This thickened +till the eye could not see into the wood; until then the trunks had +been visible, but they were now shut out. The buds were coming; and +presently the surface of the treetops took a dark reddish-brown +tint. The larches lifted their branches, which had drooped, curving +upwards as a man raises his arms above his shoulders, and the +slender boughs became set with green buds. At a distance the corn +is easily distinguished from the meadows beside it by the different +shade of green; grass is a deep green, corn appears paler and yet +brighter—perhaps the long winter has given it the least touch +of yellow. Daisies are up at last—very late indeed. Big +humble-bees, grey striped, enter the garden and drone round the +banks, searching everywhere for a fit hole in which to begin the +nest. It is pleasant to hear them; after the dreary silence the old +familiar burr-rr is very welcome. Spotted orchis leaves are up, and +the palm-willow bears its yellow pollen. Happily, the wild anemones +will not bear the journey to London, they wither too soon; else +they would probably be torn up like the violets. Neither is there +any demand for the white barren strawberry blossom, or the purplish +ground-ivy among the finely marked fern moss.</p> +<p>The rain falls; and in the copses of the valley, deep and moist, +where grey lichen droops from the boughs, the thrushes sing all +day—so delighted are they to have the earth soft again, and +so busy with the nesting. At four o'clock in the morning the larks +begin to sing: they will be half an hour earlier next month, +adjusting their time nicely by the rising of the sun. They sing on +till after the lamps are lit in the evening. Far back in the +snow-time a pair of wagtails used to come several times a day close +to the windows, their black markings showing up singularly well +against the snow on the ground. They seemed to have just arrived. +But now the weather is open and food plentiful they have left us. +The wagtails appear to be the first of the migrant birds to return, +long before the hail of April rattles against the windows and leaps +up in the short grass. Out in the hop-gardens the poles are placed +ready for setting, in conical heaps—at a distance resembling +the tents of an army. Never were the labouring men so glad to see +the spring, for never have so many of them been out of work or for +longer periods. Yet, curiously enough, even if out of work and +suffering, every sort of job will not suit them. One applicant for +work was offered hop-pole shaving at 3<i>s</i>. a +hundred—said to be a fair price; but the work did not please +him, and he would not do it. On the other hand, a girl sent out 'to +service' turned her back on domestic duties, ran away from her +mistress, and joined her father and brother in the woods where they +were shaving hop-poles. There she worked with them all the +winter—the roughest of rough winters—preferring the +wild freedom of the snow-clad woods, with hard food, to the indoor +employment. No mistress there in the snow: one woman does not like +another over her. A man stood idling at the cross-roads in the +village for weeks, hands in pockets, waiting for work. Some one +took pity on him, and said he could come and dig up an acre of +grassland to make a market garden; 15<i>s</i>. a week was the +offer, with spade found, and not long hours. 'Thank you, sir; I'll +go and look at it,' said the labourer. He went; and presently +returned to say that he did not care about it. In some way or other +it did not fall in with his notions of what work for him ought to +be. I do not believe he was a bad sort of fellow at all; but still +there it is. No one can explain these things. A distinct line, as +it were, separates the cottager, his ways and thoughts, from +others. In a cottage with which I am acquainted an infant recently +died. The body was kept in the parents' bedroom close to their bed, +day and night, until burial. This is the custom. The cottage wife +thinks that not to have the body of her child by her bed would be +most unfeeling—most cruel to lay it by itself in a cold room +away from her.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="18">SOME APRIL INSECTS.</a></h3> +<p>A black humble-bee came to the white hyacinths in the garden on +the sunny April morning when the yellow tulip opened, and as she +alighted on the flower there hovered a few inches in the rear an +eager attendant, not quite so large, more grey, and hovering with +the shrillest vibration close at hand. The black bee went round the +other side of a bunch of hyacinths, and was hidden in the bell of a +purple one. At thus temporarily losing sight of her, the follower, +one might say, flew into a state of extreme excitement, and spun +round and round in the air till he caught sight of her again and +resumed his steady hovering. Then she went to the next bunch of +hyacinths; he followed her, when, with a furious, shrill cry of +swiftly beating wings, a second lover darted down, and then the two +followed the lady in black velvet—buzz, buzz, buzz, pointing +like hounds stationary in the air—buzz, buzz—while she +without a moment's thought of them worked at the honey. By-and-by +one rushed at her—a too eager caress, for she lost her +balance and fell out of the flower on to the ground. Up she got and +pursued him for a few angry circles, and then settled to work +again. Presently the rivals darted at each other and whirled about, +and in the midst of the battle off went the lady in velvet to +another part of the garden, and the combatants immediately rushed +after her. Every morning that the tulip opened its great yellow +bell, these black humble-bees came, almost always followed by one +lover, sometimes, as on the first occasion, by two. A bright row of +polyanthus and oxlips seemed to be the haunt of the male bees. +There they waited, some on the leaves and some on the dry clods +heated by the sun, in ambush till a dark lady should come. The +yellow tulip was a perfect weather-meter; if there was the least +bit of harshness in the air, the least relic of the east wind, it +remained folded. Sunshine alone was not sufficient to tempt it, but +the instant there was any softness in the atmosphere open came the +bell, and as if by a magic key all the bees and humble-bees of the +place were unlocked, and forth they came with joyous note—not +to visit the tulip, which is said to be a fatal cup of poison to +them.</p> +<p>Any one delicate would do well to have a few such flowers in +spring under observation, and to go out of doors or stop in +according to their indications. I think there were four species of +wild bee at these early flowers, including the great bombus and the +small prosopis with orange-yellow head. It is difficult to +scientifically identify small insects hastily flitting without +capturing them, which I object to doing, for I dislike to interfere +with their harmless liberty. They have all been named and +classified, and I consider it a great cruelty to destroy them again +without special purpose. The pleasure is to see them alive and busy +with their works, and not to keep them in a cabinet. These wild +bees, particularly the smaller ones, greatly resented my watching +them, just the same as birds do. If I walked by they took no heed; +if I stopped or stooped to get a better view they were off +instantly. Without doubt they see you, and have some idea of the +meaning of your various motions. The wild bees are a constant +source of interest, much more so than the hive bee, which is so +extremely regular in its ways. With an explosion almost like a +little bomb shot out of a flower; with an immense hum, almost +startling, boom! the great bombus hurls himself up in the air from +under foot; well named—boom—bombus. Is it correct or is +it only a generalisation, that insects like ants and hive bees, who +live in great and well-organised societies, are more free from the +attacks of parasites than the comparatively solitary wild bees? +Ants are, indeed, troubled with some parasites, but these do not +seem to multiply very greatly, and do not seriously injure the +populousness of the nest. They have enemies which seize them, but +an enemy is not a parasite. On the other hand, too, they have +mastered a variety of insects, and use them for their delectation +and profit. Hive bees are likewise fairly free from parasites, +unless, indeed, their so-called dysentery is caused by some minute +microbe. These epidemics, however, are rare. Take it altogether, +the hive bee appears comparatively free of parasites. Enemies they +have, but that is another matter.</p> +<p>Have these highly civilised insects arrived in some manner at a +solution of the parasite problem? Have they begun where human +civilisation may be said to have ended, with a diligent study of +parasitic life? All our scientific men are now earnestly engaged in +the study of bacteria, microbes, mycelium, and yeast, +infinitesimally minute fungi of every description, while meantime +the bacillus is eating away the lives of a heavy percentage of our +population. Ants live in communities which might be likened to a +hundred Londons dotted about England, so are their nests in a +meadow, or, still more striking, on a heath. Their immense crowds, +the population of China to an acre, do not breed disease. Every ant +out of that enormous multitude may calculate on a certain average +duration of life, setting aside risks from battle, birds, and such +enemies. Microbes are unlikely to destroy her. Now this is a very +extraordinary circumstance. In some manner the ants have found out +a way of accommodating themselves to the facts of their existence; +they have fitted themselves in with nature and reached a species of +millennium. Are they then more intelligent than man? We have +certainly not succeeded in doing this yet; they are very far ahead +of us. Are their eyes, divided into a thousand facets, a thousand +times more powerful than our most powerful microscopes, and can +they see spores, germs, microbes, or bacilli where our strongest +lenses find nothing? I have some doubts as to whether ants are +really shut out of many flowers by hairs pointing downwards in a +fringe and similar contrivances. The ant has a singularly powerful +pair of mandibles: put one between your shirt and skin and try; the +nip you will get will astonish you. With these they can shear off +the legs or even the head of another ant in battle. I cannot see, +therefore, why, if they wished, they could not nip off this fringe +of hairs, or even sever the stem of the plant. Evidently they do +not wish, and possibly they have reasons for avoiding some plants +and flowers, which besides honey may contain spores—just as +they certainly contain certain larvæ which attach themselves +to the bodies of bees.</p> +<p>Possibly we may yet use the ants or some other clever insects to +find out the origin of the fatal parasite which devours the +consumptive. Some reason exists for imagining that this parasite +has something to do with the flora, for phthisis ceases at a +certain altitude, and it is very well known that the floras have a +marked line of demarcation. Up to a certain height certain flowers +will grow, but not beyond, just as if you had run a separating +ditch round the mountain. With the flora the insects cease; whether +the germ comes from the vegetation or from the insect that +frequents the vegetation does not seem known. Still it would be +worth while to make a careful examination of the plant and insect +life just at the verge of the line of division. The bacillus may +spring from a spore starting from a plant or starting from an +insect. Most of England had an Alpine climate probably once, and +some Alpine plants and animals have been stranded on the tops of +our highest hills and remain there to this day. In those icy times +English lungs were probably free of disease. Has formic acid ever +been used for experiments on bacilli? It is the ant acid; they are +full of it, and it is extracted and used for some purposes abroad. +Perhaps its strong odour is repellent to parasites. To return: +while the honey-bees live in comparative safety, the more or less +solitary wild bees have a great struggle to repel various creatures +that would eat them or their young, and, be as watchful as they +may, all their efforts at nest-building are often rendered nugatory +by the success of a parasite. So it is not worth while to catch +them just for the purpose of identification, for they have enough +enemies in the field without man and his heartless cabinets. The +collector is the most terrible parasite of all. Let them go on with +a happy hum, while the tulip opens in the sunshine.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="19">THE TIME OF YEAR.</a></h3> +<p>The Emperor moth came out on the 2nd of April, and suddenly +filled the cardboard box like the noonday phantom in the sunshine, +so unexpected and wonderful. His wings, which as he rests are +spread open, stretched from one side of the box to the other, +hovering over his old home, a beautiful grey tipped with pink, and +peacock-eyed, ring within ring. He clung to the piece of heather +upon which the caterpillar was found seven months before, and which +he had fixed in the threads of his cocoon. The immense dark green +caterpillar banded with black and spotted with gold was found on +the 29th of August among the heather on the hill-side; the sun +burning, the air all alight with the fire of the beams, a day of +flame—as if the keen tips of the pine needles would take fire +in the glow. The caterpillar in its colour and size seemed almost +tropical; those who have not seen it would scarcely believe that a +caterpillar could be so magnificent; but indoors in the cardboard +box he lost his sun-burnished colour and half his glory. +Immediately afterwards he spun his cocoon, and there he stayed for +seven long months, so that the moth thus suddenly appearing, +without any cracking or opening of the cocoon, appeared to be +created on the spot. At first, indeed, some thought it was a moth +that had entered by the window, there being no rent or place of +exit from the perfect case. Within, however, was the broken and +blackened skin of the caterpillar and the detached thorax: the +cocoon is like the baskets for taking fish at weirs, only the +willows merely touch at the tip, and through these he had crept +out, and they closed behind him.</p> +<p>The pale purple heather bloom still lies in the bottom of the +box. Never again shall I see a day of such glory of light, of air +burning with light; the very ferns in the shade were bright with +the glow, despite their soft green. A sad hour it was to me, yet I +could see all its beauty; sad, too, to think it will never return. +So the Emperor moth came out on the 2nd of April, and the same day +there was a yellow and a white butterfly in the garden. There had +come a gleam of sunshine after two months of bitter north wind, and +the insects took life immediately. Early in the morning the +greenfinches were screaming at each other in the elm—they +were in such a hurry to get out their song, they screamed; the +chaffinches were challenging, and the starlings fluttering their +wings at the high window, and all this excitement at one gleam of +sun. A friend asked me what bird it was that always finished up its +song with a loud call for 'ginger-beer'—whatever he sang he +always said 'ginger-beer' at the end of it; it is the chaffinch, +and a very good rendering of the notes. 'Quawk! Quoak!' the rooks +as they went by were so contented enjoying the sunshine, they took +out the harsh 'c' or 'k' and substituted the softer +'q'—'quawk! quowk!' Another perched on a tree made a short +speech, perhaps he thought it was a song. Sea-gulls have curiously +rook-like habits in some respects, following the plough like them, +and in spring wheeling for hours round and round in the sky as the +rooks do.</p> +<p>The blackbirds and thrushes that had been singing freely +previously suddenly ceased singing about December 15, and remained +silent for a month, and as suddenly began singing again about +January 15. Where they all came from I cannot think, there seemed +such an increase in their numbers; one wet morning in a small +meadow there were forty-five feeding in sight that could be easily +counted. They say the thrushes dig up and eat the roots of the +arum, yet they are not root-eaters. Possibly it may have a +medicinal effect; the whole plant has very strong properties, and +is still much gathered, I suppose for the herbalists. The root is +set rather deep, quite a dig with a pocket knife sometimes; one +would fancy it was only those which had become accidentally exposed +that are eaten by the thrushes. I have never seen them do it, and +some further testimony would be acceptable. The old naturalists +said the bear on awakening from its winter sleep dug up and ate the +roots of the arum in order to open the tube of the intestine which +had flattened together during hibernation. The blackbirds are the +thrushes' masters, and drive them from any morsel they fancy. There +is very little humanity among them: one poor thrush had lost the +joint of its leg, and in order to pick up anything had to support +itself with one wing like a crutch. This bird was hunted from every +spot he chose to alight on; no sooner did he enter the garden than +one of the stronger birds flew at him—'so misery is trodden +on by many.' There was a drone-fly on a sunny wall on January 20, +the commonest of flies in summer, quite a wonder then; the same day +a house-sparrow was trying to sing, for they have a song as well as +a chirp; on January 22 a tit was sharpening his saw and the gnats +were jumping up and down in crowds—this up-and-down motion +seems peculiar to them and may-flies. Then the snowdrops flowered +and a hive-bee came to them; next the yellow crocus; bees came to +these, too, and so eager were they that one bee would visit the +same flower five or six times before finally going away. Bees are +very eager for water in the early year; you may see them in crowds +on the wet mud in ditches; there was a wild bee drowning in a basin +of water the other day till I took him out.</p> +<p>Before the end of January the woodbine leaf was out, always the +first to come, and never learning that it is too soon; whether the +woodbine came over with 'Richard Conqueror' or the Romans, it still +imagines itself ten degrees further south, so that some time seems +necessary to teach a plant the alphabet. Immediately afterwards +down came a north wind and put nature under its thumb for two +months; the drone-fly hid himself, the bees went home, everything +became shrivelled, dry, inhuman. The local direction of the wind +might vary, but it was still the same polar draught, the +blood-sucker; for, like a vampire, it sucks the very blood and +moisture out of delicate human life, just as it dries up the sap in +the branch. While this lasted there were no notes to make, the +changes were slower than the hour hand of a clock; still it was +interesting to see the tree-climber come every morning at eleven +o'clock to the cobble-stone wall and ascend it exactly as he +ascends trees, peering into chinks among the moss and the +pennywort. He seemed almost as fond of these walls as of his tree +trunks. He came regularly at eleven and again at three in the +afternoon, and a barn owl went by with a screech every evening a +little after eight. The starlings told the time of the year as +accurately as the best chronometer at Whitehall. When I saw the +last chimney swallow, November 30, they went by to their +sleeping-trees about three o'clock in the afternoon—a long +night, a short day for them. So they continued till in January the +day had grown thirty minutes longer, when they went to roost so +much the later; in February, four o'clock; in March, by degrees +their time for passing by the window <i>en route</i> drew on to +five o'clock. Let the cold be never so great or the sky so clouded, +the mysterious influence of the light, as the sun slowly rises +higher on the meridian, sinks into the earth like a magic rain. It +enters the hardest bark and the rolled-up bud, so firm that its +point will prick the finger like a thorn; it stirs beneath the +surface of the ground. A magnetism that is not heat, and for which +there is no exact name, works out of sight in answer to the sun. +Seen or unseen, clouded or not, every day the sun lifts itself an +inch higher, and let the north wind shrivel as it may, this +invisible potency compels the bud to swell and the flower to be +ready in its calyx. Progress goes on in spite of every +discouragement. The birch trees reddened all along their slender +boughs, and when the sunlight struck aslant, the shining bark shone +like gossamer threads wet with dew.</p> +<p>The wood-pigeon in the fir trees could not be silent any longer. +Whoo—too—whoo—ooe! then up he flew with a clatter +of his wings and down again into the trees. 'Take two cows, Taffy,' +he could not be silent any +longer—whoo—too—whoo—ooe! The blackthorn +bloom began to faintly show the tiniest white studs, and the boys +in great triumph brought in the first blue thrush's eggs. Nature +would go on though under the thumb of the north wind. Poor folk +came out of the towns to gather ivy leaves for sale in the streets +to make button-holes. Many people think the ivy leaf has a pleasant +shape; it was used of old time among the Greeks and Romans to +decorate the person at joyous festivals. The ivy is frequently +mentioned in the classic poets. Not so with the countrywomen in the +villages to-day, ground down in constant dread of that hateful +workhouse system of which I can find no words to express my +detestation. They tell their daughters never to put ivy leaves in +their hair or brooch, because 'they puts it on the dead paupers in +the unions and the lunatics in the 'sylums.' Such an association +took away all the beauty of the ivy leaf. There is nature in their +hearts, you see, although they are under the polar draught of +poverty. At last there came a little warmth and the Emperor moth +appeared, yellow and white butterflies came out, flowers bloomed, +buds opened—ripened by the mystic magnetism of the sun in +their sheaths and cocoons—great humble-bees came with a +full-blown buzz, all before the swallow, the nightingale, and +cuckoo. It was but for a day, and then down fell the bitter polar +draught again.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="20">MIXED DAYS OF MAY AND +DECEMBER</a></h3> +<p>In a sheltered spot the cuckoo was first heard on April 29, but +only for one day; then, as the wind took up its accustomed +northerly drift again, he was silent. The first chimney swallows +(four) appeared on April 25, and were quickly followed by a number. +They might be said to be about three weeks behind time, and the +cuckoo a fortnight. The chiffchaff uttered his clear yet rather sad +notes on April 26. The same morning at five o'clock there had been +a slight snow shower, but it was a sunny day. On May 1 a stitchwort +was in flower, a plant that marks the period distinctly. A swift +appeared on May 2; I should not consider this late. A whitethroat +was catching insects in the garden on May 6. The cuckoo sang again +on May 8; the same day a Red Admiral butterfly was seen, and the +turtle-dove heard cooing. Next day, the 9th, the cave swallow +appeared, and also the bank martin. With the cooing of the +turtledove the spring migrants are generally complete; a warm +summer bird, he is usually the last, and if the others had not been +seen they are probably in the country somewhere. The chimney +swallows had been absent five months all but five days (last seen +November 30), so that reckoning the first and the last, they may be +said to stay in England seven months—much longer than one +would think without taking the dates. Up till April 20 the hedges +seemed as bare as they were in January, a most dreary spectacle of +barren branches, and the great elms gaunt against the sky. After +that the hedges gradually filled with leaf, and were fully coloured +when the turtle-dove began to sing, but still the elms were only +just budding, and but faintly tinted with green.</p> +<p>Chaucer was right in singing of the 'floures' of May +notwithstanding the northern winds and early frosts and +December-like character of our Mays. That the cycle of weather was +warmer in his time is probably true, but still even now, under all +the drawbacks of a late and wintry season, his description is +perfectly accurate. If any one had gone round the fields on old +May-day, the 13th, <i>his</i> May-day, they might have found the +deep blue bird's-eye veronica, anemones, star-like stitchworts, +cowslips, buttercups, lesser celandine, daisies, white blackthorn, +and gorse in bloom—in short, a list enough to make a page +bright with colour, though the wind might be bitter. In the coldest +and most exposed place I ever lived in, and with a spring as cold +as this, the May garlands included orchids, and the meadows were +perfectly golden with marsh-marigolds. For some reason or other the +flowers seem to come as near as they can to their time, let the +weather be as hard as it may. They are more regular than the +migrant birds, and much more so than the trees. The elm, oak, and +ash appear to wait a great deal on the sun and the atmosphere, and +their boughs give much better indications of what the weather has +really been than birds and flowers. The migrant birds try their +hardest to keep time, and some of them arrive a week or more before +they are noticed. Elm, oak, and ash are the surest indicators; the +horse-chestnut is very apt to put forth its broad succulent leaves +too soon; the sycamore, too, is an early tree in spite of +everything. It has been said that of late years we have not had any +settled, soft, warm weather till after midsummer. There has been a +steady continual cold draught from the northward till the sun +reached the solstice, so that the summers, in fact, have not +commenced till the end of June. There is a good deal of general +truth in this observation; certainly we seem to have lost our +springs. I do not think I have heard it thunder this year up to the +time of writing. The absence of electrical disturbance shows a +peculiar state of atmosphere unfavourable to growth, so that the +corn will not hide a partridge, and in some places hardly a +sparrow. Where did the painters get their green leaves from this +year in time for the galleries? Not from the trees, for they had +none.</p> +<p>A flock of rooks was waddling about in a thinly grown field of +corn which scarcely hid their feet, and a number of swallows, +flying very low, scarcely higher than the rooks' breasts, wound in +and out among them. The day was cloudy and cold, and probably the +insects had settled on the ground. The rooks' feet stirred them up, +and as they rose they were taken by the swallows. All over the +field there were no other swallows, nor in the adjacent fields, +only in that one spot where the rooks were feeding. On another +occasion swallows flying low over a closely cropped grass field +alighted on the sward to try and catch their prey. There seems a +scarcity of some kinds of insect life, due doubtless to the wind. +Out of a dozen butterfly chrysalids collected, six were worthless; +they were stiff, and when opened were stuffed full of small white +larvae, which had eaten away the coming butterfly in its shell. +They were the offspring of a parasite insect, which thus provided +for the sustenance of its young by eating up other young, after the +cruel way of nature. Why does one robin carefully choose a thatched +cave for its nest, out of reach except by a ladder, and safe from +all beasts of prey, and another place its nest on a low grassy bank +scarcely hidden by a plant of wild parsley, and easily taken by the +smallest boy? At first it looks like a great difference in +intelligence, but probably each bird acted as well as could be +under the circumstances. Each robin has to fight for his locality, +and he has to make the best of his territory; if he trespassed on +another bird's premises he would be driven away. You must build +your house where you happen to possess a plot of land. It is +curious to see the male bird feeding the female, not only while on +the nest, but when she comes away from it; the female perches on a +branch and utters a little call, and the male brings her food. He +was feeding her the other evening on the bare boughs of a fig tree +some distance from the nest. The warmth of the sun, although we +could not feel it, must have penetrated into the earth some time +since, for a slowworm came forth on a mound for the first time on +April 16. He coiled up on the eastern side every morning for some +hours, but was never seen in the afternoon. His short, thick body +and unfinished tail, more like a punch or the neck of a stumpy +bottle, was turned in a loop, the head nearly touching the tail, +like a pair of sugar-tongs. Coming out from the stitchwort and +grasses, the spiders often ran over his shining dark brown surface, +something the colour of glazed earthenware. A snake or an adder +would have begun to move away the moment any one stopped to look at +it; but the slowworm takes no notice, and hence it is often said to +be blind. He seems to dislike any sharp noise, and is really fully +aware of your presence. Close by the mound, which stands in a +corner of the garden, there is a great bunch of blue comfrey, to +which the bees and humble-bees come in such numbers as to seem to +justify the idea that these insects prefer blue. Or perhaps the +blue flowers secrete sweeter honey. Every kind of wild bee as yet +flying visits this plant, tiny bees barely a quarter of an inch +long, others as big as two filberts, some a deep amber, some +striped like wasps. A little of Chaucer's May has come; now and +then a short hour or two of sunshine between the finger and thumb +of the north wind. Most pleasant it is to see the eave swallow dive +down from the roof and rush over the scarcely green garden—a +household sign of summer. In the lane if you gather them the young +leaves of the sycamore have a fragrant scent like a flower, and low +down ferns are unrolling. On the low wall sits a yellow-hammer, +just brightly touched afresh with colour. Happy greenfinches go by, +and it is curious to note how the instant they enter the hedge they +are lost now under the leaves; so few days ago they would have been +unconcealed. So near is it to summer that the first thrush begins +to sing at three o'clock in the morning.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="21">THE MAKERS OF SUMMER.</a></h3> +<p>The leaves are starting here and there from green buds on the +hedge, but within doors a warm fire is still necessary, when one +day there is a slight sound in the room, so peculiar, and yet so +long forgotten, that though we know what it is, we have to look at +the object before we can name it. It is a house-fly, woke up from +his winter sleep, on his way across to the window-pane, where he +will buzz feebly for a little while in the sunshine, flourishing +best like a hothouse plant under glass. By-and-by he takes a turn +or two under the centrepiece, and finally settles on the ceiling. +Then, one or two other little flies of a different species may be +seen on the sash; and in a little while the spiders begin to work, +and their round silky cocoons are discovered in warm corners of the +woodwork. Spiders run about the floors and spin threads by the +landing windows; where there are webs it is certain the prey is +about, though not perhaps noticed. Next, some one finds a moth. +Poor moth! he has to suffer for being found out.</p> +<p>As it grows dusk the bats flitter to and fro by the house; there +are moths, then, abroad for them. Upon the cucumber frame in the +sunshine perhaps there may be seen an ant or two, almost the first +out of the nest; the frame is warm. There are flowers open, despite +the cold wind and sunless sky; and as these are fertilised by +insects, it follows that there must be more winged creatures about +than we are conscious of. How strange it seems, on a bleak spring +day, to see the beautiful pink blossom of the apricot or peach +covering the grey wall with colour—snowflakes in the air at +the time! Bright petals are so associated with bright sunshine that +this seems backward and inexplicable, till it is remembered that +the flower probably opens at the time nearest to that which in its +own country brings forth the insects that frequent it. Now and +again humble-bees go by with a burr; and it is curious to see the +largest of them all, the big bombus, hanging to the little green +gooseberry blossom. Hive-bees, too, are abroad with every stray +gleam of sun; and perhaps now and then a drone-fly—last seen +on the blossoms of the ivy in November. A yellow butterfly, a white +one, afterwards a tortoiseshell—then a sudden pause, and no +more butterflies for some time. The rain comes down, and the gay +world is blotted out. The wind shifts to the south, and in a few +days the first swallows are seen and welcomed, but, as the old +proverb says, they do not make a summer. Nor do the long-drawn +notes of the nightingale, nor even the jolly cuckoo, nor the tree +pipit, no, nor even the soft coo of the turtle-dove and the smell +of the May flower. It is too silent even now: there are the leading +notes; but the undertone—the vibration of the organ—is +but just beginning. It is the hum of insects and their ceaseless +flitting that make the summer more than the birds or the sunshine. +The coming of summer is commonly marked in the dates we note by the +cuckoo and the swallow and the oak leaves; but till the butterfly +and the bee—one with its colour, and one with its +hum—fill out the fields, the picture is but an outline +sketch. The insects are the details that make the groundwork of a +summer day. Till the humble-bees are working at the clover it is +too silent; so I think we may begin our almanack with the house-fly +and the moth and the spider and the ant on the cucumber frame, and +so on, till, finally, the catalogue culminates with the great +yellow wasp. He is the final sign of summer; one swallow does not +make it, one wasp does. He is a connoisseur of the good things of +the earth, and comes not till their season.</p> +<p>On the top of an old wall covered with broad masses of lichen, +the patches of which grew out at their edges as if a plate had +taken to spreading at its rim, the tits were much occupied in +picking out minute insects; the wagtails came too, sparrows, +robins, hedge-sparrows, and occasionally a lark; a bare blank wall +to all appearance, and the bare lichen as devoid of life to our +eyes. Yet there must have been something there for all these eager +bills—eggs or pupæ. A jackdaw, with iron-grey patch on +the back of his broad poll, dropped in my garden one morning, to +the great alarm of the small birds, and made off with some large +dark object in his beak—some beetle or shell probably, I +could not distinguish which, and should most likely have passed the +spot without seeing it. The sea-kale, which had been covered up +carefully with seaweed, to blanch and to protect it from the frost, +was attacked in the cold dry weather in a most furious manner by +blackbirds, thrushes, and starlings. They tore away the seaweed +with their strong bills, pitching it right and left behind them in +as workmanlike style as any miner, and so boring deep notches into +the edge of the bed. When a blackbird had made a good hole he came +back to visit it at various times of the day, and kept a strict +watch. If he found any other blackbird or thrush infringing on his +diggings, he drove him away ferociously. Never were such works +carried on as at the edge of that seaweed; they moved a bushel of +it. To the eye there seemed nothing in it but here and there a +small white worm; but they found plenty, and the weather being so +bitter, I let them do much as they liked; I would rather feed than +starve them.</p> +<p>Down at the sea-shore in the sunny hours, out from the woodwork +of the groynes or bulwarks, there came a white spotted spider, +which must in some way have known the height to which the tide came +at that season, because he was far below high-water mark. The moles +in an upland field had made in the summer a perfect network of +runs. Out of curiosity we opened some, and found in them large +brown pupæ. In the summer-house, under the wooden eaves, if +you look, you will find the chrysalis of a butterfly, curiously +slung aslant. Coming down Galley Hill, near Hastings, one day, a +party was almost stopped by finding they could only walk on +thousands of caterpillars, dark with bright yellow bands, which had +sprung out of the grass. The great nettles—now, nothing is so +common as a nettle—are sometimes festooned with a dark +caterpillar, hundreds upon each plant, hanging like bunches of +currants. Could you find a spot the size of your watch-seal without +an insect or the germ of one?</p> +<p>The agriculturists in some southern counties give the boys in +spring threepence a dozen for the heads of young birds killed in +the nest. The heads are torn off, to be produced, like the wolves' +of old times, as evidence of extinction. This—apart from the +cruelty of the practice—is, I think, a mistake, for, besides +the insects that injure crops, there are some which may be +suspected of being inimical to human life, if not directly, +indirectly; and if it were not for birds, we should run a very good +chance of being literally eaten up. The difficulty is that people +cannot believe what they cannot immediately see, and there are very +few who have the patience or who feel sufficient interest to study +minute things.</p> +<p>I have taken these instances haphazard; they are large +instances, as it were, of big and visible things. They only give +the rudest idea of the immensity and complexity of insect life in +our own country. My friend the sparrow is, I believe, a friend +likewise to man generally. He does a little damage, I admit; but if +he were to resort to living on damage solely in his enormous +numbers, we should not have a single flower or a single ear of +wheat. He does not live by doing mischief alone evidently. He is +the best scavenger the Londoners have got, and I counsel them to +prize their sparrows, unless they would be overrun with +uncomfortable creatures; and possibly he plays his part indirectly +in keeping down disease. They say in some places he attacks the +crocus. He does not attack mine, so I suspect there must be +something wrong with the destroyed crocuses. Some tried to entice +him from the flower with crumbs; they would perhaps have succeeded +better if they had bought a pint of wheat at the seedsman's and +scattered it. In spring, sparrows are not over-fond of crumbs; they +are inordinately fond of wheat. During the months of continued dry, +cold, easterly winds, which we have had to endure this season, all +insect-eating birds have been almost as much starved as they are in +winter when there is a deep snow. Nothing comes forth from the +ground, nothing from the deep crannies which they cannot peck open; +the larva remains quiescent in the solid timber. Not a speck can +they find. The sparrow at such a time may therefore be driven to +opening flower-buds. Looked at in a broad way, I am convinced he is +a friend. I have always let them build about the house, and shall +not drive them away.</p> +<p>If you do not know anything of insects, the fields are somewhat +barren to you. The buttercups are beautiful, still they are +buttercups every day. The thrush's song is lovely, still one cannot +always listen to the thrush. The fields are but large open spaces +after a time to many, unless they know a little of insects, when at +once they become populous, and there is a link found between the +birds and the flowers. It is like opening another book of endless +pages, and coloured illustrations on every page.</p> +<p>Blessings on the man, said Sancho Panza, who first invented +sleep. Blessings on the man who first invented the scarlet +geranium, and thereby brought the Hummingbird moth to the +window-sill; for, though seen ever so often, I can always watch it +again hovering over the petals and taking the honey, and away again +into the bright sunlight. Sometimes, when walking along, and +thinking of everything else but it, the beautiful Peacock butterfly +suddenly floats by the face like a visitor from another world, so +highly coloured, and so original and unlike and unexpected. In +bright painters' work like the wings of butterflies, which often +have distinct hues side by side, I think nature puts very little +green; the bouquet is not backed with maiden-hair fern; the red and +the blue and so on have no grass or leaves as a ground colour; nor +do they commonly alight on green. The bright colours are left to +themselves unrelieved. None of the butterflies, I think, have green +on the upper side of the wing; the Green Hairstreak has green under +wings, but green is not put forward.</p> +<p>Something the same may be noticed in flowers themselves: the +broad surface, for instance, of the peach and apricot, pink without +a green leaf; the pear tree white, but the leaves come quickly; the +apple, an acre of pink and white, with the merest texture of +foliage. Nor are there many conspicuous green insects— the +grasshopper; some green flies; the lace-fly, a green body and +delicate white wings. With the wild flowers, on the contrary, there +seems to come a great deal of green. There is scarcely a colour +that cannot be matched in the gay world of wings. Red, blue, and +yellow, and brown and purple—shaded and toned, relieved with +dots and curious markings; in the butterflies, night tints in the +pattern of the under wings, as if these were shaded with the dusk +of the evening, being in shadow under the vane. Gold and orange, +red, bright scarlet, and ruby and bronze in the flies. Dark velvet, +brown velvet, greys, amber, and gold edgings like military coats in +the wild bees. If fifteen or twenty delicate plates of the thinnest +possible material, each tinted differently, were placed one over +the other, and all translucent, perhaps they might produce +something of that singular shadow-painting seen on the wings of +moths. They are the shadows of the colours, and yet they are +equally distinct. The thin edges of the flies' wings catch the +sunbeams, and throw them aside. Look, too, at the bees' limbs, +which are sometimes yellow, and sometimes orange-red with pollen. +The eyes, too, of many insects are coloured. They know your shadow +from that of a cloud. If a cloud comes over, the instant the edge +of the shadow reaches the Grass moths they stop, so do some of the +butterflies and other insects, as the wild bees remain quiescent. +As the edge of your shadow falls on them they rise and fly, so that +to observe them closely it must not be allowed to overlap them.</p> +<p>Sometimes I think insects smell the approaching observer as the +deer wind the stalker. The Gatekeeper butterfly is common; its +marking is very ingenious, may I say? regular, and yet irregular. +The pattern is complete, and yet it is incomplete; it is finished, +and yet it suggests to the mind that the lines ought to go on +farther. They go out into space beyond the wing. If a carpet were +copied from it, and laid down in a room, the design would want to +run through the walls. Imagine the flower-bird's wing detached from +some immense unseen carpet and set floating—it is a piece of +something not ended in itself, and yet floating about complete. +Some of their wings are neatly cut to an edge and bordered; of some +the edge is lost in colour, because no line is drawn along it. Some +seem to have ragged edges naturally, and look as if they had been +battered. Towards the end of their lives little bits of the wing +drop out, as if punched. The markings on the under wings have a +tendency to run into arches, one arch above the other. The tendency +to curve may be traced everywhere in things as wide apart as a +flower-bird's wing and the lines on a scallop-shell.</p> +<p>I own to a boyish pleasure in seeing the clouds of brown chafers +in early summer clustering on the maple hedges and keeping up a +continual burring. They stick to the fingers like the bud of a +horse-chestnut. Now the fern owl pitches himself over the oaks in +the evening as a boy might throw a ball careless whither it goes; +the next moment he comes up out of the earth under your feet. The +night cuckoo might make another of his many names; his colour, +ways, and food are all cuckoo-like; so, too, his immense +gape—a cave in which endless moths end their lives; the eggs +are laid on the ground, for there is no night-feeding bird into +whose nest they could be put, else, perhaps, they would be. There +is no night-feeding bird to feed the fern owl's young. Does any one +think the cuckoo could herself feed two young cuckoos? How many +birds would it take to feed three young cuckoos? Supposing there +were <i>five</i> young cuckoos in the nest, would it not take +almost all the birds in a hedge to feed them? For the incredible +voracity of the young cuckoo—swallow, swallow, swallow, and +gape, gape, gape—cannot be computed. The two robins or the +pair of hedge-sparrows in whose nest the young cuckoo is bred, work +the day through, and cannot satisfy him; and the mother cuckoo is +said to come and assist in feeding him at times. How, then, could +the cuckoo feed two or three of its offspring and itself at the +same time? Several other birds do not build nests—the plover, +the fern owl. That is no evidence of lack of intelligence. The +cuckoo's difficulty, or one of its difficulties, seems to be in the +providing sufficient food for its ravenous young. A half-fledged +cuckoo is already a large bird, and needs a bulk of soft food for +its support. Three of them would wear out their mother completely, +especially if—as may possibly be the case—the male +cuckoo will not help in feeding. This is the simplest explanation, +I think; yet, as I have often said before, we must not always judge +the ways of birds or animals or insects either by strict utility, +or by crediting them with semi-supernatural intelligence. They have +their fancies, likes and dislikes, and caprices. There are +circumstances—perhaps far back in the life-history of their +race—of which we know nothing, but which may influence their +conduct unconsciously still, just as the crusades have transmitted +a mark to our minds to-day. Even though an explanation may satisfy +us, it is by no means certain that it is the true one, for they may +look at matters in an entirely different manner from what we do. +The effect of the cuckoo's course is to cause an immense +destruction of insects, and it is really one of the most valuable +as well as the most welcome of all our birds.</p> +<p>The thin pipe of the gnat heard at night is often alluded to, +half in jest, by our older novelists. It is now, I think, dying out +a good deal, and local where it stays. It occurred to me, on seeing +some such allusion the other day, that it was six years since I had +heard a gnat in a bedroom—never since we left a neighbourhood +where there had once been marshy ground. Gnats are, however, less +common generally—exclusive, of course, of those places where +there is much water. All things are local, insects particularly so. +On clay soils the flies in summer are most trying; black flies +swarm on the eyes and lips, and in the deep lanes cannot be kept +off without a green bough. It requires the utmost patience to stay +there to observe anything. In a place where the soil was sand, with +much heath, on elevated ground, there was no annoyance from flies. +There were crowds of them, but they did not attack human beings. +You might sit on a bank in the fields with endless insects passing +without being irritated; but everywhere out of doors you must +listen for the peculiar low whir of the stoat-fly, who will fill +his long grey body with your blood in a very few minutes. This is +the tsetse of our woods.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="22">STEAM ON COUNTRY ROADS.</a></h3> +<p>Losses year after year and increasing competition indicate that +the crops now grown are not sufficient to support the farmer. When +he endeavours, however, to vary his method of culture, and to +introduce something new, he is met at the outset by two great +difficulties which crush out the possibility of enterprise. The +first of these—the extraordinary tithe—has already come +into prominent notice; the second is really even more +important—it is the deficiency of transit. An extensive use +of steam on common roads appears essential to a revival of +agricultural prosperity, because without it it is almost impossible +for delicate and perishable produce to be quickly and cheaply +brought to market. Railways, indeed, now connect nearly every town +of any size whatever throughout the country with the large cities +or London; but railways are necessarily built as lines of +communication between towns, and not in reference to scattered +farms. Upon the map the spaces between the various rails do not +look very broad, but those white bands when actually examined would +be found to be six, eight, ten, or even twenty miles wide. Nor are +there stations everywhere, so that a farm which may be only six +miles from the metals may be ten from the nearest platform. Goods +trains do not, as in the United States, stop to pick up wherever +there is material or produce waiting to be loaded; the produce has +to be taken where the railway chooses, and not where it would suit +the farmer's convenience. When at last the farmer's waggon reaches +the station he finds no particular trouble taken to meet his needs; +his horse and carters are kept hours and hours, perhaps far into +the night, for a mere matter of a ton or two, nor is there any +special anxiety shown to deliver his consignment early, though if +it should not be moved from the companies' premises demurrage is +charged. In short, the railway companies, knowing that the +agriculturists until the formation of the 'Farmers' Alliance' were +incapable of united action, have used them much as they liked. As +for the rates charged, the evidence recently taken, and which is to +be continued, shows that they are arbitrary and often excessive. +The accommodation is poor in the extreme, the charges high, the +speed low, and every condition against the farmer. This, in its +turn, drives the farmer more into the hands of the middleman. The +latter makes a study of the rail and its awkward ways, and manages +to get the goods through, of course adding to their cost when they +reach the public. Without the dealer, under present circumstances, +the farmer would often find it practically impossible to get to +markets not in his immediate neighbourhood. The rail and its +awkward, inconvenient ways actually shut him off. In manufacturing +districts the transit of iron and minerals and worked-up metal is +managed with considerable ability. There are appointed to manage +the goods traffic men who are alert to the conditions of modern +requirements and quick to meet them. In agricultural districts the +question often arises if there be really any responsible local +goods managers at all. It seems to be left to men who are little +more than labourers, and who cannot understand the patent fact that +times are different now from what they were thirty years since, +when they first donned their uniforms. The railways may bring their +books and any number of their officers to prove that everything is +perfectly satisfactory, but the feeling remains, nevertheless, that +it is exactly the contrary.</p> +<p>Look at the map, and place the finger on any of the spaces +between the lines of rail. Take, then, the case of a farmer in the +midst of that space, not more than five or six miles from the +metals, and able at times to hear the distant whistle of the +engines, but not less than eight from a station. This present +season he finds his wheat damaged by the rain after it was cut, and +he comes to the conclusion that he must supplement his ordinary +crops by some special culture in order to make his way. On the last +occasion he was in a large city he was much struck by the quantity +of fruit which he found was imported from abroad. The idea +naturally occurs to him of setting aside some ten or twenty acres +of his holding of four hundred or five hundred for the culture of +fruit. He goes to his landlord, who is only too willing to give him +every facility, provided that no injury be done to the soil. He +faces the monstrous injustice of the extraordinary tithes, and +expends fresh capital in the planting of various kinds of +fruit.</p> +<p>In places at that distance from a station labour is dear +relative to the low profit on the ordinary style of farming, but +very cheap relative to the possible profits on an improved and +specialised system. The amount of extra labour he thus employs in +the preparation of the ground, the planting, cleaning, picking, and +packing, is an inestimable boon to the humbler population. Not only +men, but women and children can assist at times, and earn enough to +add an appreciable degree of comfort to their homes. In itself this +is a valuable result. But now suppose our enterprising farmer has +the fortune to have a good season, and to see his twenty acres +teeming with produce. He sets as many hands on as possible to get +it in; but now what is he to do with it? Send it to London. That is +easily said; but trace the process through. The goods, perishable +and delicate, must first be carted to the railway station and +delivered there, eight miles from the farm, at most inconvenient +hours. They must be loaded into slow goods trains, which may not +reach town for four-and-twenty hours. There is not the slightest +effort to accelerate the transit, and the rates are high. By the +time the produce reaches the market its gloss and value are +diminished, and the cost of transit has eaten away the profit. The +thing has been tried over and over again and demonstrated. One need +only go to the nearest greengrocer's to obtain practical proof of +it. The apples he sells are American. The farmers in New York State +or Massachusetts can grow apples, pack them in barrels, despatch +them two thousand eight hundred miles to Liverpool, and they can +then be scattered all over the country and still sold cheaper than +the fruit from English orchards. This is an extraordinary fact, +showing the absolute need of speedy and cheap transit to the +English farmer if he is to rise again. Of what value is his +proximity to the largest city in the world—of what value is +it that he is only ninety miles from London, if it costs him more +to send his apples about ninety miles than it does his American +kinsman very nearly three thousand?</p> +<p>As we have in this country no great natural waterways like the +rivers and lakes of the United States, our best resource is +evidently to be found in the development of the excellent common +roads which traverse the country, and may be said practically to +pass every man's door. Upon these a goods train may be run to every +farm, and loaded at the gate of the field. This assertion is not +too bold. The thing, indeed, is already done in a manner much more +difficult to accomplish than that proposed. Traction engines, +weighing many tons—so heavy as to sometimes endanger bridges, +and drawing two trucks loaded with tons of coal, chalk, bricks, or +other materials—have already been seen on the roads, +travelling considerable distances, and in no wise impeded by steep +gradients; so little, indeed, that they ascend the downs and supply +farms situated in the most elevated positions with fuel. What is +this but a goods train, and a goods train of the clumsiest, most +awkward, and, consequently, unprofitable description? Yet it is +run, and it would not be run were it not to some extent useful. +Anything more hideous it would be hard to conceive, yet if the +world patiently submits to it for the welfare of the agricultural +community, what possible objection can there be to engines so +formed as to avoid every one of the annoyances caused by it? It may +be asserted without the slightest fear of contradiction that there +are at least fifty engineering firms in this country who could send +forth a road locomotive very nearly noiseless, very nearly +smokeless, certainly sparkless, capable of running up and down hill +on our smooth and capital roads, perfectly under control, not in +the least alarming to horses, and able to draw two or more trucks +or passenger cars round all their devious windings at a speed at +least equal to that of a moderate trot—say eight miles an +hour. Why, then, do we not see such useful road trains running to +and fro? Why, indeed? In the first place, progress in this +direction is absolutely stopped by the Acts of Parliament +regulating agricultural engines. The Act in question was passed at +a time when steam was still imperfectly understood. It was in +itself a perfectly judicious Act, which ought to be even more +strictly enforced than it is. But it was intended solely and wholly +for the regulation of those vast and monstrous-looking engines +which it was at once foreseen, if left to run wild, would frighten +all horse traffic off the roads. The possibility of road +locomotives in the reasonable sense of the term was not even in the +minds of the framers. Yet, by a singular perversity, this very Act +has shut off steam from one of its most legitimate functions.</p> +<p>It is quite possible that the depression of agriculture may have +the effect of drawing attention to this subject, and if so it will +be but tardy justice to the rest of society that the very calling +whose engines now block the roads should thus in the end open them. +We should then see goods trains passing every farm and loading at +the gate of the field. Such a road goods train would not, of +course, run regularly to and fro in the same stereotyped direction, +but would call as previously ordered, and make three or four +journeys a day, sometimes loading entirely from one farm, sometimes +making up a load from several farms in succession. Besides the +quick communication thus opened up with the railway station and the +larger towns, the farmer would be enabled to work his tenancy with +fewer horses. He would get manures, coal, and all other goods +delivered for him instead of fetching them. He would get his +produce landed for him instead of sending his own teams, men, and +boys. In a short time, as the railways began to awaken to the new +state of things, they would see the advantage of accommodating +their arrangements, and open their yards and sidings to their +competitor. In the case of long journeys, and with some kinds of +goods, in order to save the cost of transhipment, it would be +possible to transfer the bed of the road truck from its frame on to +the frame of the railroad truck, so that the goods, with one +loading, might pass direct to London. Our American cousins are +quite capable of inventing a transferable truck of this kind. In +return, goods loaded in London would never leave the same bottom +till unloaded at the farmyard or in the midst of the village. For +all long journeys the rails would probably always remain the great +carriers, and the road trains serve as their most valuable feeders. +When farmers found it possible to communicate with the cities at +reasonable rates, and at reasonable speed, they would be encouraged +to put forth fresh efforts, to plant vegetables, to grow fruit, to +supplement their larger crops with every species of lesser produce. +This, in its turn, would bring new traffic to the lines; for +instead of one or two crops in the year only, there would be three +or four requiring carriage. There would be then speedy results of +such improved communication. One would be an increased value of +land; the second, an increase in the number of small areas occupied +and cultivated; the third, an increase in the rural population. A +fourth would be that the incredible amount of money which is now +annually transferred to the Continent and America for the purchase +of every kind of lesser produce would remain in this country to the +multiplication of the accounts at Post Office savings banks. Every +one who possibly could would grow or fatten something when he could +just put it on a road train, and send it off to market.</p> +<p>Two through passenger road trains a day, one in each direction, +carrying light parcels as well, and traversing say forty or fifty +miles or less, would probably soon obtain sufficient support, as +they ran from village to village and market town to market town. At +present, those who live in villages are practically denied +locomotion unless they are well enough off to keep a horse and trap +and a man to look after them. A person residing in a village must +either remain in the village, or walk, or go by carrier. The +carrier stops at every inn, and takes a day to get over ten miles. +The exposure in the carrier's cart has been the cause of serious +illness to many and many a poor woman obliged to travel by it, and +sit in the wind and rain for hours and hours together. Unless they +ride in this vehicle, or tramp on foot, the villagers are simply +shut off from the world. They have neither omnibus, tramway, nor +train. Those who have not lived in a village have no idea of the +isolation possible even in this nineteenth century, and with the +telegraph brought to the local post office. The swift message of +the electric wire, and the slow transit of the material +person—the speed of the written thought, and the slowness of +the bodily presence—are in strange contrast.</p> +<p>When people do not move about freely commerce is practically at +a standstill. But if two passenger road trains, travelling at an +average speed of not more than eight miles an hour, one going up +and the other down, and connecting two or more market towns and +lines of railway, passed through the village, how different would +be the state of things! Ease of transit multiplies business, and, +besides passengers, a large amount of light material could thus be +conveyed. There would be depôts at the central places, but +such trains could stop to pick up travellers at any gate, door, or +stile. If the route did not go through every hamlet, it would pass +near enough to enable persons to walk to it and join the carriages. +No one objects to walk one mile if he can afterwards ride the other +ten. Besides these through trains, special trains could run on +occasions when numbers of people wanted to go to one spot, such as +sheep or cattle fairs and great markets. Large tracts of country +look to one town as their central place, not by any means always +the nearest market town; to such places, for instance, as +Gloucester and Reading, thousands resort in the course of the year +from hamlets at a considerable distance. Such road trains as have +been described would naturally converge on provincial towns of this +kind, and bring them thrice their present trade. Country people +only want facilities to travel exactly like city people. It is, +indeed, quite possible that when villages thus become accessible +many moderately well-to-do people will choose them for their +residence, in preference to large towns, for health and cheapness. +If any number of such persons took up their residence in villages, +the advantage to farmers would of course be that they would have +good customers for all minor produce at their doors. It is not too +much to say that three parts of England are quite as much in need +of opening up as the backwoods of America. When a new railroad +track is pushed over prairie and through primeval woods, +settlements spring up beside it. When road trains run through +remote hamlets those remote hamlets will awake to a new life.</p> +<p>Many country towns of recent years have made superhuman efforts +to get the railway to their doors. Some have succeeded, some are +still trying; in no case has it been accomplished without an +immense expenditure, and for the most part these railroad branches +are completely in the control of the main line with which they are +connected. In one or two cases progress has been effected by means +of tramways, notably one at Wantage—an excellent idea and +highly to be commended. All these are signs that by slow degrees +matters are tending towards some such scheme as has been here +sketched out. While local railroads are extremely expensive, slow +in construction, and always dominated by main lines, and while +tramways need rails, with the paraphernalia rails require, they +have this drawback—they are not flexible. The engines and +cars that run upon them must for ever adhere to the track: there +may be goods, produce, ricks, cows, fruit, hops, and what not, +wanting to be landed only a quarter of a mile distant, but the cars +cannot go to the crops. The railroad is rigid, everything must be +brought to it. From town to town it answers well, but it cannot +suit itself and wind about from village to hamlet, from farm to +farm, up hill and down dale. The projected road train is flexible +and capable of coming to the crops. It can call at the farmer's +door, and wait by the gate of the field for the load. We have +lately seen France devote an enormous sum to the laying down of +rails in agricultural districts, to the making of canals, and +generally to the improvement of internal communication in provinces +but thinly populated. The industrious French have recognised that +old countries, whose area is limited, can only compete with +America, whose area is almost unlimited, by rendering transit easy +and cheap. We in England shall ultimately have to apply the same +fact.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="23">FIELD SPORTS IN ART.<br> + THE MAMMOTH HUNTER.</a></h3> +The most ancient attempt to delineate the objects of sport in +existence is, I think, the celebrated engraving of a mammoth on a +portion of a mammoth's tusk. I call it an engraving because the +figure is marked out with incised lines such as the engraver makes +with his tool, and it is perfect enough to print from. If it were +inked and properly manipulated it would leave an +impression—an artist's proof the most curious and +extraordinary in the world, for the block was cut with flint +instruments by the Cave-men an incredible number of years ago, +perhaps before England was separated from the Continent by the sea, +while the two were still connected, and it was dry land where now +the <i>Calais-Douvres</i> steams so steadily over the waves. But it +would be an artist's proof with the lights and shades reversed, the +lines that sketch the form of the mammoth would be white and the +body dark, yet for all that lifelike, since the undulating +indentations that represent the woolly hide of the immense creature +would relieve the ground. This picture of a prehistoric animal, +drawn by a prehistoric artist, shows that Art arose from the chase. +Traced to the den of primeval man, who had no Academy to instruct +him, no Ruskin to guide, and no gallery to exhibit in, it appears +that Art sprang from nature, and not from science. His life was +occupied with the hunt, and he represented that which filled his +thoughts. Those who understand wild sports will not for a moment +doubt that the mammoth was taken in pits or otherwise destroyed +despite its huge strength; no matter if it had been twice as large, +the cunning of man would have been equal to the difficulty. The +mind is the arrow that slays the monster. The greater the danger +the greater the interest, and consequently the more the imagination +would dwell upon the circumstances of the chase. Afterwards resting +in the cave round about the fire and thinking of the mighty work of +sport which had been accomplished, the finger of the savage would +involuntarily describe the outline of the creature so laboriously +captured. His finger might describe it upon the scattered ashes +whitening the ground beside him. Or it might describe the outline +simply in the air. Speech in its inception was as much expressed by +the finger as the tongue; perhaps the fingers talked before the +mouth, and in a sense writing preceded language. Uttering the +unpolished sound which in their primitive society indicated the +mammoth, the savage drew rapidly a figure with his finger, and his +companions read his meaning written in the air. To this day it is +common for the Italian peasantry to talk with their fingers; a few +syllables suffice, illustrated and emphasised by those dexterous +hands. A more subtle meaning is thus conveyed than could be put in +words. Some of the most ancient languages seem bald and incomplete, +too rigid; they need intonation, as it were, to express passion or +changes of emotion, and when written the letters are too far apart +to indicate what is meant. Not too far apart upon the page, but far +apart in their sense, which has to be supplied as you supply the +vowels. In actual use such languages must have required much +gesture and finger-sketching in the air. The letters of the +Egyptians largely consist of animals and birds, which represent +both sounds and ideas. Dreaming over the embers of his fire, the +Cave-man saw pass before his mental vision all the circumstances of +the chase, ending with the crash when the mammoth crushed into the +pit, at which he would start and partially awake. Intentness of +mind upon a pursuit causes an equivalent intentness of dream, and +thus wild races believe their dreams to be real and substantial +things, and not mere shadows of the night. To those who do not read +or write much, even in our days, dreams are much more real than to +those who are continuously exercising the imagination. If you use +your imagination all day you will not fear it at night. Since I +have been occupied with literature my dreams have lost all +vividness and are less real than the shadows of trees, they do not +deceive me even in my sleep. At every hour of the day I am +accustomed to call up figures at will before my eyes, which stand +out well defined and coloured to the very hue of their faces. If I +see these or have disturbed visions during the night they do not +affect me in the least. The less literary a people the more they +believe in dreams; the disappearance of superstition is not due to +the cultivation of reason or the spread of knowledge, but purely to +the mechanical effect of reading, which so perpetually puts figures +and aërial shapes before the mental gaze that in time those +that occur naturally are thought no more of than those conjured +into existence by a book. It is in far-away country places, where +people read very little, that they see phantoms and consult the +oracles of fate. Their dreams are real. <br> +<br> +<p>The mammoth came through his cave before the embers of his +fire—the sleeping savage could touch it with his flint-headed +spear—there was the crash as it fell into the prepared pit; +he awakes, the dying embers cast shadows on the walls, and in these +he traces the shape of the vast creature hastening away. The +passing spirit has puffed the charred brands into a second's flame, +and thus shadowed itself in the hollow of the cavern.</p> +<p>Deeper than the excitement of the chase lies that inner +consciousness which dwells upon and questions itself—the soul +of the Cave-man pondered upon itself; the question came to him, as +he crouched in the semi-darkness, over the fire which he had +stirred, 'Will my form and aërial shadow live on after my +death like that which passed but now? Shall I, too, be a living +dream?' The reply was, 'Yes, I shall continue to be; I shall start +forth from my burial-mound upon the chase in the shadow-land just +as now I start forth from my cave. I shall entrap the giant woolly +elephant—I shall rejoice at his capture; we shall triumph yet +again and again. Let then my spear and knife be buried with me, but +chip them first—kill them—that I may use their spirit +likenesses in the dream-chase.'</p> +<p>With a keen-edged splinter of flint in the daylight he incised +the outlines of the mammoth upon a smooth portion of its +tusk—its image was associated with his thoughts of a future +life, and thus Art in its earliest inception represented the +highest aspirations of man.</p> +<p>But could the ignorant savage of that long-lost day have been +capable of such work? The lowest race of savages in Southern +Africa—the Bushmen—go about with festoons of entrails +wound around their loins. After a successful hunt—with the +pit or poisoned arrows—they remove the entrails of the slain +animal and wear them like coronals for present ornament and future +regalement. These creatures are nevertheless artists. On the walls +of caves they have painted the antelope and the lion in bright +colours; they have not only caught the shape and hue of the animals +about them, but their action and movement. The figures are in +motion, skilfully drawn and full of spirit.</p> +<p>If any one asks, is the application of Art to the chase really +so old, so very very old, as this? I refer them to the stars. How +long ago is it since the constellations received their names? At +what date were they first arranged in groups? Upon the most ancient +monuments and in the most ancient writings they have the same forms +assigned to them as at this day, and that too in countries remote +from each other. The signs of the Zodiac are almost as old as the +stars themselves; that is, as old as the time when the stars were +first beheld of human eyes. Amongst them there is the +Archer—Sagittarius—the chase in the shape of man; +greatest and grandest of all the constellations is Orion, the +mighty hunter, the giant who slew the wild beasts by strength. +There is no assemblage of stars so brilliant as those which compose +the outline of Orion; the Hunter takes the first place in the +heavens. Art exists in the imagination—imagination drew lines +from star to star, and repeated its life on earth in the sky.</p> +<p>So it is true that the first picture—whether drawn by the +imagination alone in the constellations, on the walls of the cave +with ochre and similar materials, or engraved with keen splinters +of flint on the mammoth's tusk—the first picture was of the +chase. Animals are earliest, the human form next, flowers and +designs and stories in drawings next, and landscape last of all. +Landscape is peculiarly the art of the moderns—it is the art +of <i>our</i> civilisation; no other civilisation seems to have +cared for it. Towers and castles are indeed seen on the bas-reliefs +of Assyria, and waving lines indicate rivers, but these are merely +subsidiary, and to give place and locality to the victories the +king is achieving. The battle is the interest, the landscape merely +the stage. Till the latter days of European life the artist took no +notice of landscape.</p> +<p>The painting of hills and rocks and rivers, woods and fields, is +of recent date, and even in these scenes the artist finds it +necessary to place some animals or birds. Even now he cannot ignore +the strong love of human beings for these creatures; if they are +omitted the picture loses its interest to the majority of eyes. +Every one knows how wonderfully popular the works of Landseer have +been, and he was an animal painter, and his subjects chiefly +suggested by sport. The same spirit that inspired the Cave-dweller +to engrave the mammoth on the slab of ivory still lives in the +hearts of men.</p> +<p>There is a beautiful etching of "The Poacher" (to which I shall +have to recur); he is in the wood, and his dog is watching his +upraised finger. From that finger the dog learns everything. He +knows by its motion when to start, which way to go, what to do, +whether to be quick or slow, to return or to remain away. He +understands his master quite as well as if they conversed in human +speech. He enters into the spirit of the enterprise. 'If you want +your business done, go; if not, send' is true only of men. The +poacher wants his business done, and he sends his agent—his +dog—certain that it will be done for him better than he could +do it himself. The dog is conscientious, he will omit nothing, he +will act as if his master's eye was on him the whole time. Now this +attitude of the dog's mind is so exquisitely rendered in the +picture that he seems verily to speak with intelligence. I love +that dog though he does but exist in ink; he is the true image of a +real dog, and his mind shines through his body. This effect upon me +as the spectator is produced by a clever arrangement of lines upon +the plate from which the etching was printed, thin lines cut into +the copper with curious sharp tools, behind a screen of +tissue-paper to shield the eyes from the light, done in the calm of +the studio, thoughtfully, with artistic skill. Given the original +genius to conceive such a dog, the knowledge how to express the +ideas, and the tools to work with, and we see how it became +possible to execute the etching. But suppose the artist supplied +with a piece of smooth ivory for his plate, and a sharp penknife +for his etching needle, and set behind a boulder to watch the +mammoth and sketch it by incision on the ivory, and there would be +produced very much the same kind of picture as the Cave-man made. +It could not have the delicate shading, the fine edge, the +completion and finish of the dog; it could not visibly think as +that dog thinks. It would consist of a few quick strong dashes, +conveying the weight and force and image of the elephant in as few +strokes as possible. It would be a charcoal sketch; broad and +powerful lines that do not themselves delineate, but compel your +imagination to do the picture in your mind, so that you see a great +deal more than is drawn. So that the Cave-man was really a great +artist—his intense interest in the chase supplied the lack of +academics and scientific knowledge and galleries to copy from. This +primeval picture thus tells you that the highly educated artist of +the present day, removed from his accessories, away from his liquid +colours, easels, canvas, prepared paper, and so frith, can only do +what the Cave-man did. But still further, he can only do that if he +possesses great natural genius—only a man who could draw the +poacher's dog could do it. Those who depend altogether on the +prepared paper and liquid colours, patent easel and sketching +stool, could simply do nothing.</p> +<p>It is nearly certain that if the primeval man sketched the +mammoth he likewise carved his spear-shaft, the haft of his knife, +the handle of his 'celt,' that chisel-like weapon whose shape so +closely resembles the front teeth. The 'celt' is a front tooth in +flint or bronze, enlarged and fitted to a handle for chipping, +splitting, and general work. In museums celts are sometimes fitted +to a handle to show how they were used, but the modern adapter has +always overlooked the carving. Wild races whose time is spent in +sport or war—very nearly synonymous terms—always carve +or ornament their weapons, their canoes, the lintels of their +doors, the posts of their huts. There is in this the most singular +difference from the ways of landscape civilisation. Things that we +use are seldom ornamented—our tables, our chairs, our houses, +our carriages, our everything is as plain as plain can be. Or if +ornamented, it is ornamented in a manner that seems to bear no kind +of relation to the article or its uses, and to rouse no sympathies +whatever. For instance, our plates—some have the willow +pattern, some designs of blackberry bushes, and I really cannot see +what possible connection the bushes or the Chinese summerhouses +have with the roast beef of old England or the +<i>côtellette</i> of France. The last relic of Art carving is +visible round about a bread platter, here and there wreaths of +wheatears; very suitable these to a platter bearing bread formed of +corn. Alas! I touched one of these platters one day to feel the +grain of the wood, and it was cold earthenware—cold, +ungenial, repellent crockery, a mockery, sham! Now the original +wooden platter was, I think, true Art, and the crockery copy is not +Art. The primeval savage, without doubt, laboriously cut out a +design, or at least gave some curve and shape to the handle of his +celt or the shaft of his spear, and the savages at this clay as +laboriously carve their canoes. The English sportsman, however, +does not cut, or carve, or in any way shape his gun-stock to his +imagination. The stock is as smooth and as plain as polished wood +can be. There is a sort of speckling on the barrels, and there is a +conventional design on the lock-plate; conventional, indeed, in the +most <i>blasé</i> sense of the word—quite +<i>blasé</i> and worn out, this scratch of intertwisted +lines, not so much as a pheasant even engraved on the lock-plate; +it is a mere killing machine, this gun, and there is no Art, +thought or love of nature about it. Sometimes the hammers are +filed, little notches crossing, and there imagination stops. The +workman can get no farther than his file will go, and you know how +that acts to and fro in a straight groove. A pheasant or hare at +full speed, a few trees—firs as most +characteristic—could be put on the plate, and something else +on the trigger guard; firs are easily drawn, and make most +appearance for a few touches; pheasants roost in them. Even a coat +of arms, if it were the genuine coat-of-arms of the owner's family, +would look well. Men have their book-plates and stamp their library +volumes, why not a gun design? As many sportsmen scarcely see their +guns for three-fourths of the year, it is possible to understand +that the gun becomes a killing machine merely to them, to be +snatched up and thrown aside the instant its office is over. But +the gamekeeper carries his gun the year through, and sits in the +room with it when indoors, still he never even so much as scratches +an outline of his favourite dog on it. In these landscape days we +put our pictures on the walls only, and no imagination into the +things we handle and use. A good deal of etching might be done on a +gun, most of it being metal, while more metal could be easily +inlaid for the purpose. Etching, I suppose, is the right word; at +all events, designs, records of actual sporting feats, or outlines +of favourite sporting places—nooks in the woods, falls of the +stream, deep combes of the hills—could be cut in with +aquafortis. So many draw or paint nowadays, and in this manner they +could make some use of their skill, drawing perhaps for those who +only understand the use of cartridge-paper when it has gunpowder +inside it. Sportsmen see the very best of scenery, and come across +old hollow trunks and curious trees, effects, and 'bits' of every +kind, from a twisted hawthorn to an antlered stag; if they could +get an artistic friend to see these, there would be some good +gun-etchings done.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="24">BIRDS' NESTS</a></h3> +<p>'Perfectly lovely!' 'Such pretty colours!' 'So neat; isn't it +wonderful how the little things do it with their beaks?' 'The +colours are so arranged as to conceal it; the instinct is +marvellous;' and so on. These comments were passed on a picture of +a bird's nest—rather a favourite subject with amateur +painters. The nest was represented among grass, and was tilted +aside so as to exhibit the eggs, which would have rolled out had +they been real. It was composed of bright-green moss with flowers +intertwined, and tall bluebells, rising out of the grass, overhung +it. Nothing could be more poetical. In reality, the +flowers—if ever actually used by a bird—would have +faded in a day, and the moss would never have had so brilliant and +metallic a tint. The painter had selected the loveliest colours of +the mead and gathered them into a bouquet, with the nest in the +centre. This is not exactly like nature: a robin's nest for +instance, the other day was discovered in an old shoe, discarded by +a tramp and thrown over the wall into the shrubbery. Nests are not +always made where flowers grow thickest, and birds have the oddest +way of placing them—a way which quite defeats rational +search. After looking into every nook, and places where if built a +nest would be hidden from passers-by, suddenly it is found right in +front of you and open to view. You have attributed so much cunning +to the bird that you have deceived yourself. In fact, it sometimes +happens that the biggest fool is the best bird's-nester, and luck +in eggs falls to those who have no theory. But December throws +doubt even on the fool's capacity, for as the leaves fall there +appear nests by the dozen in places never suspected, and close to +people's faces. For one that has been taken ten have escaped.</p> +<p>The defect of nest-building lies in the absence of protection +for the young birds. When they grow large and feel strong they +bubble, as it were, over the edge of the cup-shaped nest. Their +wings, though not yet full-grown, save them from injury in descent +by spreading out like a parachute, but are powerless to assist them +after reaching the ground. In the grass they are the prey of rooks, +crows, magpies, jackdaws, snakes, rats, and cats. They have no +means of escape whatever: they cannot fly nor run—the tall +grass stops running—and are frequently killed for amusement +by their enemies, who do not care to eat them. Numbers die from +exposure in the wet grass, or during rain, for they are not able to +fly up and perch on a branch. The nest requires a structure round +it like a cage, so that the fledglings might be prevented from +leaving it till better able to save themselves. Those who go to +South Kensington to look at the bird's-nest collection there should +think of this if they hear any one discoursing on infallible +instinct on the one hand, or evolution on the other. These two +theories, the infallible instinct and that of evolution, +practically represent the great opposing lines of thought—the +traditional and the scientific. An examination of birds' nests, if +conducted free of prejudice, will convince any independent person +neither that the one nor the other explains these common hedge +difficulties. Infallible instinct has not supplied protection for +the young birds, nor has the experience of hundreds of years of +nest-building taught the chaffinch or the missel-thrush to give its +offspring a fair start in the famous 'struggle for existence.' Boys +who want linnets or goldfinches watch till the young are almost +ready to bubble over, and then place them in a cage where the old +birds come and feed them. There is, then, no reason why the nest +itself should not be designed for the safety of the fledgling as +well as of the egg. Birds that nest in holes are frequently very +prolific, notably the starling, which rears its brood by thousands +in the hollow trees of forests. Though not altogether, in part +their vast numbers appear due to the fact that their fledglings +escape decimation.</p> +<p>Country boys set some value on the eggs of the nettle-creeper or +whitethroat because the nest is difficult to find, and the eggs +curiously marked. They want the eggs as soon as laid, when they +blow well; and it is just at this stage that the nest is most +difficult to discover, as the bird gives little evidence of its +presence. The nest is placed among the thick grasses and plants +that grow at the verge or down the sides of dry ditches, and is +frequently overshadowed by nettles. But there does not appear to be +any conscious effort at concealment. The bird spends the day +searching for food in such places—hence its name +nettle-creeper—creeping along the hedges, under brambles and +thorns, and builds its nest in the locality to which it is +accustomed. It may appear to be cunning to a superficial human +observer, but it is certain that the bird does not think itself +cunning. Men who live by fishing build their houses near the sea; +those who cultivate wheat, in open plains; artisans, by factories. +The whitethroat frequents the hedge and ditch, and there weaves its +slender nest. So much has been attributed to birds of which they +are really quite unconscious. It has even been put forward that the +colours of their eggs are intended to deceive; and those of the +dotterel, laid on the open beach, are often mentioned as an +instance. The resemblance of the dotterel's egg to a pebble is no +greater than the resemblance between many eggs laid in nests and +pebbles. If the whitethroat eggs were taken from the nest and +placed among particoloured pebbles such as are common on some +shores, it would need care to distinguish them. If the dotterel's +eggs were put down among grass, or even among the clods of ploughed +land, they would be equally difficult to find. You might as well +suppose that the whitethroat is aware that nettles will sting the +human hand approaching its nest as that eggs are especially +adjusted in colour to deceive human eyes. As for deceiving the eyes +of those birds that are fond of eating eggs, the thing is +impossible; the size of the egg is alone sufficient: how conceal an +object of that size from an eye that can distinguish insects? The +egg takes its chance, coloured or not. Sportsmen would be very glad +if pheasants would kindly learn by experience, and lay eggs of a +hue invisible to the poaching rook or crow. Nor is this nest, that +seems so slender and so delicately made, really so slender to the +bird itself. To a man or woman, so many times larger than the nest, +its construction appears intricate. Suppose a lady stands five feet +four inches high, and the nest placed in her hand measures two +inches across: the difference is immense. The bird who built it is +smaller than the nest. The thing is reversed, and it does not look +tiny to the bird. The horsehair or fibre, which to us is an inch or +two long, to the bird is a bamboo or cane three or four feet in +length. No one would consider it difficult to weave cane or willow +wands as tall as himself. The girls at Luton perform much more +difficult feats in weaving straw-plait for bonnets than any bird +accomplishes. A rook's nest looked at in the same way is about as +large to the bird as a small breakfast-parlour, and is composed of +poles. To understand birds you must try and see things as they see +them, not as you see them. They are quite oblivious of your +sentiments or ideas, and their actions have no relation to yours. A +whole system of sentiment and conduct has been invented for birds +and animals based entirely upon the singular method of attributing +to them plans which might occur to a human being. The long-tailed +tit often builds its nest in the midst of blackthorn thickets +(which afford it the lichen it uses), or in deep hawthorn bushes. A +man comes along, sees the nest, and after considerable +exertion—having to thrust himself into the hedge—and +after some pain, being pricked by the thorns, succeeds, with +bleeding hands, in obtaining possession of it. 'Ah,' he moralises, +'what wonderful instinct on the part of this little creature to +surround itself with a zareba like the troops after Osman Digma! +Just look at my hands.' Proof positive to him; but not to any one +who considers that through the winter, up till nesting-time, these +little creatures have been creeping about such thorns and thickets, +and that they had no expectation whatever of a hand being thrust +into the bushes. The spot which is so difficult of access to a man +is to them easy of entrance. They look at the matter from the very +opposite point of view. The more thoroughly the artificial system +of natural history ethics is dismissed from the mind the more +interesting wild creatures will be found, because while it is +adhered to a veil is held before the eyes, and nothing useful can +ever be discovered. Put it aside, and there is always something new +and as interesting as a fresh nest to a boy.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="25">NATURE IN THE LOUVRE.</a></h3> +<p>Turning to the left on entering the Louvre, I found myself at +once among the sculpture, which is on the ground-floor. Except that +the Venus of Milo was in the collection, I had no knowledge of what +I was about to see, but stepped into an unknown world of statuary. +Somewhat indifferently I glanced up and then down, and instantly my +coolness was succeeded by delight, for there, in the centre of the +gallery, was a statue in the sense in which I understand the +word—the beautiful made tangible in human form. I said at +once, 'That is <i>my</i> statue. There lies all Paris for me; I +shall find nothing further.' I was then at least thirty yards +distant, with the view partly broken, but it was impossible to +doubt or question lines such as those. On a gradual approach the +limbs become more defined, and the torso grows, and becomes more +and more human—this is one of the remarkable circumstances +connected with the statue. There is life in the wide hips, chest, +and shoulders; so marvellous is the illusion that not only the +parts that remain appear animated, but the imagination restores the +missing and mutilated pieces, and the statue seems entire. I did +not see that the hand was missing and the arms gone; the idea of +form suggested by the existing portions was carried on over these, +and filled the vacant places.</p> +<p>Going nearer, the large hips grow from stone to life, the deep +folds of the lower torso have but this moment been formed as she +stooped, and the impulse is to extend the hands to welcome this +beautiful embodiment of loving kindness. There, in full existence, +visible, tangible, seems to be all that the heart has imagined of +the deepest and highest emotions. She stoops to please the +children, that they may climb her back; the whole of her body +speaks the dearest, the purest love. To extend the hands towards +her is so natural, it is difficult to avoid actually doing so. Hers +is not the polished beauty of the Venus de Medici, whose very +fingers have no joints. The typical Venus is fined down from the +full growth of human shape to fit the artist's conception of what +beauty should be. Her frame is rounded; her limbs are rounded; her +neck is rounded; the least possible appearance of fulness is +removed; any line that is not in exact accordance with a strict +canon is worked out—in short, an ideal is produced, but +humanity is obliterated. Something of the too rounded is found in +it—a figure so polished has an air of the bath and of the +mirror, of luxury; it is <i>too</i> feminine; it obviously has a +price payable in gold. But here is a woman perfect as a woman, with +the love of children in her breast, her back bent for their +delight. An ideal indeed, but real and human. Her form has its full +growth of wide hips, deep torso, broad shoulders. Nothing has been +repressed or fined down to a canon of art or luxury. A heart beats +within her bosom; she is love; with her neither gold nor applause +has anything to do; she thinks of the children. In that length of +back and width of chest, in that strong torso, there is just the +least trace of manliness. She is not all, not too feminine; with +all her tenderness, she can think and act as nobly as a man.</p> +<p>Absorbed in the contemplation of her beauty, I did not for some +time think of inquiring into material particulars. But there is a +tablet on the pedestal which tells all that is known. This statue +is called the 'Venus Accroupie,' or Stooping Venus, and was found +at Vienne, France. The term 'Venus' is conventional, merely to +indicate a female form of remarkable beauty, for there is nothing +in the figure to answer to what one usually understands as the +attributes of the goddess. It is simply a woman stooping to take a +child pick-a-back, the child's little hand remaining upon the back, +just as it was placed, in the act of clinging. Both arms are +missing, and there appears to be some dispute as to the exact way +in which they were bent across the body. The right arm looks as if +it had passed partly under the left breast, the fingers resting on +the left knee, which is raised; while the left arm was uplifted to +maintain the balance. The shoulders are massive rather than broad, +and do not overshadow the width of the hips. The right knee is +rounded, because it is bent; the left knee less so, because raised. +Bending the right knee has the effect of slightly widening the +right thigh. The right knee is very noble, bold in its slow curve, +strong and beautiful.</p> +<p>Known of course to students, this wonderful work seems quite +overlooked by the mass of visitors to the Louvre, and its fame has +not spread. Few have even heard its name, for it has not been +written and lectured into the popular mind like the Venus de +Medici. While I was studying it several hundred visitors went +straight past, without so much as a casual glance, on their way +direct to the Venus of Milo, of which they had read in their +guide-books, and of which they had seen splendid photographs in +every window. One came along, on the contrary, very slowly, +carefully examining the inscriptions upon the altars and various +figures; he appeared to understand the Latin and Greek, and it +might have been expected that he would stay to look at the +Accroupie. He did not; he worked all round the statue, reading +every word legible on the base of the insignificant figures against +the wall, and so onwards down the <i>salon</i>. One of the most +complete of the guide-books dismisses the Accroupie in a single +line, so it is not surprising that people do not seek it. But what +is surprising is that in a city so artistic as Paris there should +be so few photographs of this statue. I could get but +two—these were duplicates, and were all the proprietor of the +shop possessed; there was some trouble to find them. I was told +that, as they were so seldom asked for, copies were not kept, and +that there was only this one particular view—a very bad one. +Other shops had none. The Venus of Milo is in every shop—in +every size, and from every point of view; of the Accroupie these +two poor representations were hunted out from the bottom of a +portfolio. Of course, these remarks apply only to Paris as the +public know it; doubtless the studios have the Accroupie, and could +supply representations of every kind: casts, too, can be obtained +at the Louvre. But to those who, like myself, wander in the outer +darkness of common barbarian life, the Accroupie is unknown till we +happily chance upon it. Possibly the reason may be that this statue +infinitely surpasses those fixed ideals of art which the studios +have for so many centuries resolutely forced upon the world. It +seems that after a certain length of art study the natural eyesight +is lost. But I hope and believe there are thousands of people in +the world in full possession of their natural eyesight, and capable +of appreciating the Accroupie when once their attention is called +to it.</p> +<p>I knew it was useless to search further among the galleries of +the Louvre, for there could not be two such works in existence +anywhere, much less in one collection. Therefore I did not go a +step beyond, but sat down to enjoy it, and when I had gazed enough +for one morning I turned to leave the place. There are never two +works of equal beauty of any kind, just as there are never two +moments of equal pleasure: seize the one you have, and make much of +it, for such a moment will never return. In walking away I +frequently looked back—first at three or four yards', then at +ten yards' distance; gradually the proportions diminished, but the +great sweep of outline retained its power. At about thirty yards it +is remarkable how this noble work entirely overshadows the numerous +figures close to it. Upon each side of the gallery the wall is +lined with ranks of statuary, but they are quite lost as statuary, +and seem nothing more than wall decorations, merely curious +castings put there to conceal the monotony of the surface. Cleverly +executed they may be, but there is no other merit, and they appear +commonplace. They have no meaning; the eye glances along them +without emotion. It always returns to, and rests upon, the +Accroupie—the living and the beautiful. Here is the +difference between genius and talent. Talent has lined the walls +with a hundred clever things, and could line miles of surface; +genius gives us but one example, and the clever things are +silenced. Here is the difference between that which expresses a +noble idea, and that which is dexterously conventional. The one +single idea dominates the whole. Here is the difference, again, +between the secret of the heart, the aspiration of the soul, and +that which is only the workmanship of a studio ancient or modern. +The Accroupie is human, loving tender; how poor are goddesses +beside her! At forty, fifty, sixty yards, still looking back, +though the details now disappeared, the wonderful outline of the +torso and hips was as powerful as ever. Ascending the steps which +lead from the gallery I paused once more, standing close against +the wall, for other figures interfere with a distant view, and even +at that distance (eighty yards or more) the same beauty was +recognisable. Yet there is no extended arm, no attitude to force +attention—nothing but the torso is visible; there is no +artificial background (as with the Venus of Milo) to throw it into +relief; the figure crouches, and the love expressed in the action +is conveyed by the marvel of the work as far as it can be seen.</p> +<p>Returning next morning I took the passage on the left (not as +before on the right), and so came at once to the top of the steps, +and to a spot whence a view can with little trouble be obtained. +Perhaps it is more than eighty yards away, but the effect is the +same despite the distance. The very best place to view the statue +is exactly in front of it, two or three yards away, or as close as +you like, but precisely in front. It requires no careful choice of +position so as to give a limb more prominence, or render the light +more effective (the light just there is bad, though it is near a +window). The sculptor did not rely upon 'artistic' and selected +attitudes—something made up for the occasion. No meretricious +aid whatever has been called in—no trick, no illusion of the +eye, nothing theatrical. He relied solely and simply upon a true +representation of the human body—the torso, the body +itself—as he really saw it in life. When we consider that the +lines of the body seen in front are gentle, and in no way +prominent, it is apparent how beautiful the original must have +been, and how wonderfully the form has been rendered in marble for +this to be the best position to view it.</p> +<p>Three large folds, marked by deep lines, cross the lower part of +the torso, and it is these creases that give the work its life. +They are but just made in stooping, and will disappear as she rises +from that position. These three grooves cross the entire front of +the torso; the centre one is forked at its extremity near the right +hip, and the fork of this groove encloses a smaller crease. +Immediately under the right breast there is a short separate groove +caused by the body leaning to the right; this is a fold of the +side, not of the front. Under these folds there must be breath, +there must be blood; they indicate a glowing life. The immense +vitality of the form appears in them, and even as an athlete's +muscles are exhibited in relief at his exercises, so exceeding +strength of life is evident in these grooves. A heart throbbing +steadily and strong, veins full of rich, pure blood, a warm touch, +an eager wish to be affectionate, and self lost in the desire to +love—this is the expression of the folds. Full of the energy +of exceptional vitality, she gladly gives that energy for the +delight of the little one.</p> +<p>There are no grooves on the torso of the Venus de Medici or of +the Venus of Cnidus; they are sculptured in attitudes chosen to +allow of the body and the limbs presenting an unbroken smoothness. +They have the roundness of the polished column. They are ideals, +but do not live. Here the deep grooves and the large folds are +life.</p> +<p>As we move slowly around the statue from left to right, after +observing it in front, the right breast gradually advances, and its +outline appears. The act of stooping and leaning to one side causes +the right breast to be lower than the left. By degrees the right +breast recedes and the left advances, and, standing at the full +left of the figure, there are three chief lines to +notice—that of the back seen in profile, of the torso, and of +the left thigh. The thigh is raised, and, so stretched, seems +slightly compressed near the knee. It is more rotund than thick or +heavy; it is not so much size as roundness; it is not mere +plumpness, but form.</p> +<p>A step farther and the back begins to appear, and the outline of +its right edge. Standing exactly at the back, there is a remarkable +flatness at the lower end of the mesial groove. This flatness is +somewhat in the shape of an elongated diamond; it is rather below +the loins, and is, I think, caused by the commencement or upper +part of the pelvis. In stooping and at the same time leaning to one +side, the flesh at this spot is drawn tightly against the firm +structure under the skin, so that the flatness is almost, if not +quite, hollow. Had the sculptor been representing a goddess he +would have concealed this flatness in some way or other, or +selected a position which did not cause it, for the conventional +art—beauty must be equally rounded everywhere. Had he been +poorer in conception he would have slurred it over, or not even +observed it. The presence of this flatness or slightly hollow +surface demonstrates how true the work is to reality. The statue is +a personality, a living thing. As the line of the horizon recedes +at sea, and that which now appears the edge or boundary is +presently sailed over, so the edge or outline of the body recedes +as you move around it. Another step, and the right thigh and the +right breast are in sight, with the ends of the grooves. Lines that +look almost straight are changed, as you approach, into curves. The +action of the limbs is most apparent when viewed from the right +side of the statue; but its most beautiful aspect is exactly in +front. In moving round, it is very striking to observe how the +least change of position—if you do but move an +inch—alters the outline and curve of the work; the breast, +not visible before, is now apparent as the bust rises; another inch +and it becomes a demi-lune, till it swells to its full undulation. +At every step the figure alters, but no matter at how many angles +it is looked at, it always has beautiful curves. They adapt +themselves, these curves, to the position of the eye, and wherever +the eye is placed they satisfy its demands for beauty. Examine any +part, and it is found perfect; for instance, the inside of the +right knee (visible from the left of the statue) slightly bulges, +being pressed out by the stooping position.</p> +<p>At a third visit it seemed to me that the statue had grown much +more beautiful in the few days which had elapsed since I first saw +it. Pondering upon the causes of this increasing interest, I began +to see that one reason was because it recalled to my memory the +loveliness of nature. Old days which I had spent wandering among +deep meadows and by green woods came back to me. In such days the +fancy had often occurred to me that, besides the loveliness of +leaves and flowers, there must be some secret influence drawing me +on as a hand might beckon. The light and colour suspended in the +summer atmosphere, as colour is in stained but translucent glass, +were to me always on the point of becoming tangible in some +beautiful form. The hovering lines and shape never became +sufficiently defined for me to know what form it could be, yet the +colours and the light meant something which I was not able to fix. +I was now sitting in a gallery of stone, with cold marbles, cold +floors, cold light from the windows. Without there were only +houses, the city of Paris—a city above all other cities +farthest from woods and meads. Here, nevertheless, there came back +to me this old thought born in the midst of flowers and +wind-rustled leaves, and I saw that with it the statue before me +was in concord. The living original of this work was the human +impersonation of the secret influence which had beckoned me on in +the forest and by running streams. She expressed in loveliness of +form the colour and light of sunny days; she expressed the deep +aspiring desire of the soul for the perfection of the frame in +which it is encased, for the perfection of its own existence.</p> +<p>The sun rolls on in the far dome of heaven, and now day and now +night sweeps with alternate bands over the surface of hill, and +wood, and sea; the sea beats in endless waves, which first began to +undulate a thousand thousand years ago, starting from the other rim +of Time; the green leaves repeat the beauty that gladdened man in +ancient days. But for themselves they are, and not for us. Their +glory fills the mind with rapture but for a while, and it learns +that they are, like carven idols, wholly careless and indifferent +to our fate. Then is the valley incomplete, and the void sad! Its +hills speak of death as well as of life, and we know that for man +there is nothing on earth really but man; the human species owns +and possesses nothing but its species. When I saw this I turned +with threefold concentration of desire and love towards that +expression of hope which is called beauty, such as is worked in +marble here. For I think beauty is truthfully an expression of +hope, and that is why it is so enthralling—because while the +heart is absorbed in its contemplation, unconscious but powerful +hope is filling the breast. So powerful is it as to banish for the +time all care, and to make this life seem the life of the +immortals.</p> +<p>Returning the next morning, my thoughts went on, and found that +this ideal of nature required of us something beyond good. The +conception of moral good did not satisfy one while contemplating +it. The highest form known to us at present is pure unselfishness, +the doing of good, not for any reward, now or hereafter, nor for +the completion of an imaginary scheme. This is the best we know. +But how unsatisfactory! Filled with the aspirations called forth by +the ideal before me, it appeared as if even the saving of life is a +little work compared to what the heart would like to do. An outlet +is needed more fully satisfying to its inmost desires than is +afforded by any labour of self-abnegation. It must be something in +accord with the perception of beauty and of an ideal. Personal +virtue is not enough. The works called good are dry and jejune, +soon consummated, often of questionable value, and leaving behind +them when finished a sense of vacuity. You give a sum of money to a +good object and walk away, but it does not satisfy the craving of +the heart. You deny yourself pleasure to sit by the bedside of an +invalid—a good deed; but when it is done there remains an +emptiness of the soul. It is not enough—it is casuistry to +say that it is. I often think the reason the world is so cold and +selfish, so stolid and indifferent, is because it has never yet +been shown how to be anything else. Listening to the prophets of +all times and climes, it has heard them proclaim their ordinances, +and has seen these observances punctually obeyed for hundreds of +years, and nothing has come of it all. To-day it listens to the +prophets of humanity, and it sees much real benevolence actually +carried out. But the result is infinitesimal. Nothing comes of it; +it does not satisfy the individual heart. The world at large +continues untouched and indifferent—first because its common +sense is not convinced, and secondly because its secret aspirations +are in no degree satisfied. So that it is not altogether the +world's fault if it is stolid. Everything has been tried and found +wanting, Men rushed in crowds to the gold-diggings of California, +to the Australian 'finds;' and in like manner, if any real +spiritual or ideal good were proffered, crowds would rush to +participate in it. Nothing yet has been given but empty words, and +these so-called 'goods' have proved as tasteless, and as much Dead +Sea apples, as the apples of vice; perhaps even more bitter than +the regrets of vice. Though I cannot name the ideal good, it seems +to me that it will be in some way closely associated with the ideal +beauty of nature.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="26">SUMMER IN SOMERSET.</a></h3> +<p>The brown Barle River running over red rocks aslant its course +is pushed aside, and races round curving slopes. The first shoot of +the rapid is smooth and polished like a gem by the lapidary's art, +rounded and smooth as a fragment of torso, and this convex +undulation maintains a solid outline. Then the following scoop +under is furrowed as if ploughed across, and the ridge of each +furrow, where the particles move a little less swiftly than in the +hollow of the groove, falls backwards as foam blown from a wave. At +the foot of the furrowed decline the current rises over a rock in a +broad white sheet—white because as it is dashed to pieces the +air mingles with it. After this furious haste the stream does but +just overtake those bubbles which have been carried along on +another division of the water flowing steadily but straight. +Sometimes there are two streams like this between the same banks, +sometimes three or even more, each running at a different rate, and +each gliding above a floor differently inclined. The surface of +each of these streams slopes in a separate direction, and though +under the same light they reflect it at varying angles. The river +is animated and alive, rushing here, gliding there, foaming yonder; +its separate and yet component parallels striving together, and +talking loudly in incomplete sentences. Those rivers that move +through midland meads present a broad, calm surface, at the same +level from side to side; they flow without sound, and if you stood +behind a thick hedge you would not know that a river was near. They +dream along the meads, toying with their forget-me-nots, too idle +even to make love to their flowers vigorously. The brown Barle +enjoys his life, and splashes in the sunshine like boys +bathing—like them he is sunburnt and brown. He throws the +wanton spray over the ferns that bow and bend as the cool breeze +his current brings sways them in the shade. He laughs and talks, +and sings louder than the wind in his woods.</p> +<p>Here is a pool by the bank under an ash—a deep green pool +inclosed by massive rocks, which the stream has to brim over. The +water is green—or is it the ferns, and the moss, and the +oaks, and the pale ash reflected? This rock has a purple tint, +dotted with moss spots almost black; the green water laps at the +purple stone, and there is one place where a thin line of scarlet +is visible, though I do not know what causes it. Another stone the +spray does not touch has been dried to a bright white by the sun. +Inclosed, the green water slowly swirls round till it finds +crevices, and slips through. A few paces farther up there is a red +rapid—reddened stones, and reddened growths beneath the +water, a light that lets the red hues overcome the others—a +wild rush of crowded waters rotating as they go, shrill voices +calling. This next bend upwards dazzles the eyes, for every +inclined surface and striving parallel, every swirl, and bubble, +and eddy, and rush around a rock chances to reflect the sunlight. +Not one long pathway of quiet sheen, such as stretches across a +rippled lake, each wavelet throwing back its ray in just +proportion, but a hundred separate mirrors vibrating, each inclined +at a different angle, each casting a tremulous flash into the face. +The eyelids involuntarily droop to shield the gaze from a hundred +arrows; they are too strong—nothing can be distinguished but +a woven surface of brilliance, a mesh of light, under which the +water runs, itself invisible. I will go back to the deep green +pool, and walking now with the sun behind, how the river has +changed!</p> +<p>Soft, cool shadows reach over it, which I did not see before; +green surfaces are calm under trees; the rocks are less hard; the +stream runs more gently, and the oaks come down nearer; the +delicious sound of the rushing water almost quenches my thirst. My +eyes have less work to do to meet the changing features of the +current which now seems smooth as my glance accompanies its +movement. The sky, which was not noticed before, now appears +reaching in rich azure across the deep hollow, from the oaks on one +side to the oaks on the other. These woods, which cover the steep +and rocky walls of the gorge from river to summit, are filled with +the June colour of oak. It is not green, nor russet, nor yellow; I +think it may be called a glow of yellow under green. It is warmer +than green; the glow is not on the outer leaves, but comes up +beneath from the depth of the branches. The rush of the river +soothes the mind, the broad descending surfaces of yellow-green oak +carry the glance downwards from the blue over to the stream in the +hollow. Rush! rush!—it is the river, like a mighty wind in +the wood. A pheasant crows, and once and again falls the tap, tap +of woodmen's axes—scarce heard, for they are high above. They +strip the young oaks of their bark as far as they can while the +saplings stand, then fell them, and as they all lie downhill there +are parallel streaks of buff (where the sap has dried) drawn +between the yellow-green masses of living leaf. The pathway winds +in among the trees at the base of the rocky hill; light green +whortleberries fill every interstice, bearing tiny red globes of +flower—flower-lamps—open at the top. Wood-sorrel lifts +its delicate veined petals; the leaf is rounded like the shadow of +a bubble on a stone under clear water. I like to stay by the +wood-sorrel a little while—it is so chastely beautiful; like +the purest verse, it speaks to the inmost heart. Staying, I hear +unconsciously—listen! Rush! rush! like a mighty wind in the +wood.</p> +<p>It draws me on to the deep green pool inclosed about by +rocks—a pool to stand near and think into. The purple rock, +dotted with black moss; the white rock; the thin scarlet line; the +green water; the overhanging tree; the verdant moss upon the bank; +the lady fern—are there still. But I see also now a little +pink somewhere in the water, much brown too, and shades I know no +name for. The water is not green, but holds in solution three +separate sets of colours. The confervæ on the stones, the +growths beneath at the bottom waving a little as the water swirls +like minute seaweeds—these are brown and green and somewhat +reddish too. Under water the red rock is toned and paler, but has +deep black cavities. Next, the surface, continually changing as it +rotates, throws back a different light, and thirdly, the oaks' +yellow-green high up, the pale ash, the tender ferns drooping over +low down confer their tints on the stream. So from the floor of the +pool, from the surface, and from the adjacent bank, three sets of +colours mingle. Washed together by the slow swirl, they produce a +shade—the brown of the Barle—lost in darkness where the +bank overhangs.</p> +<p>Following the current downwards at last the river for awhile +flows in quietness, broad and smooth. A trout leaps for a fly with +his tail curved in the air, full a foot out of water. Trout watch +behind sunken stones, and shoot to and fro as insects droop in +their flight and appear about to fall. So clear is the water and so +brightly illuminated that the fish are not easily seen—for +vision depends on contrast—but in a minute I find a way to +discover them by their shadows. The black shadow of a trout is +distinct upon the bottom of the river, and guides the eye to the +spot; then looking higher in the transparent water there is the +fish. It was curious to see these black shadows darting to and fro +as if themselves animated and without bodies, for if the trout +darted before being observed the light concealed him in motion. +Some of the trout came up from under Torre-steps, a singular +structure which here connects the shores of the stream. Every one +has seen a row of stepping-stones across a shallow brook; now pile +other stones on each of these, forming buttresses, and lay flat +stones like unhewn planks from buttress to buttress, and you have +the plan of this primitive bridge. It has a megalithic appearance, +as if associated with the age of rude stone monuments. They say its +origin is doubtful; there can be no doubt of the loveliness of the +spot. The Barle comes with his natural rush and fierceness under +the unhewn stone planking, then deepens, and there overhanging a +black pool—for the shadow was so deep as to be +black—grew a large bunch of marsh-marigolds in fullest +flower, the broad golden cups almost resting on the black water. +The bridge is not intended for wheels, and though it is as firm as +the rock, foot passengers have to look at their steps, as the great +planks, flecked with lichen at the edges, are not all level. The +horned sheep and lambs go over it—where do they not go? Like +goats they wander everywhere.</p> +<p>In a cottage some way up the hill we ate clotted cream and +whortleberry jam. Through the open door came the ceaseless rush! +rush! like a wind in the wood. The floor was of concrete, lime and +sand; on the open hearth—pronounced 'airth'—sods of +turf cut from the moor and oak branches were smouldering under the +chimney crook. Turf smoke from the piled-up fires of winter had +darkened the beams of the ceiling, but from that rude room there +was a view of the river, and the hill, and the oaks in full June +colour, which the rich would envy. Sometimes in early morning the +wild red deer are seen feeding on the slope opposite. As we drove +away in reckless Somerset style, along precipices above the river, +with nothing but a fringe of fern for parapet, the oak woods on the +hills under us were shading down into evening coolness of tint, the +yellow less warm, the green more to the surface. Upon the branches +of the trees moss grows, forming a level green top to the round +bough like a narrow cushion along it, with frayed edges drooping +over each side. Though moss is common on branches, it does not +often make a raised cushion, thick, as if green velvet pile were +laid for the birds to run on. There were rooks' nests in some tall +ash trees; the scanty foliage left the nests exposed, they were +still occupied by late broods. Rooks' nests are not often seen in +ashes as in elms.</p> +<p>By a mossy bank a little girl—a miniature +Audrey—stout, rosy, and ragged, stood with a yellow straw hat +aslant on her yellow hair, eating the leaves from a spray of beech +in her hand. Audrey looked at us, eating the beech leaves steadily, +but would not answer, not even 'Where's your father to?' For in +Somerset the 'to' is put last, and must never be omitted; thus, +instead of saying 'I bought this at Taunton,' it is correct to say +'I bought this to Taunton.' There are models under glass cases in +places of entertainment with a notice to say that if a penny be +inserted the machine will go. Audrey the Little would not speak, +but when a penny was put in her hand she began to move, and made +off for home with the treasure. The road turned and turned, but +whichever way the Barle was always under us, and the red rock rose +high at the side. This rock fractures aslant if worked, vast flakes +come out, and the cleavage is so natural that until closely +approached a quarry appears a cliff. Stone got out in squares, or +cut down straight, leaves an artificial wall; these rocks cannot be +made to look artificial, and if painted a quarry would be certainly +quite indistinguishable from a natural precipice. Entering a little +town (Dulverton) the road is jammed tight between cottages: so +narrow is the lane that foot passengers huddle up in doorways to +avoid the touch of the wheels, and the windows of the houses are +protected by iron bars like cages lest the splash-boards should +crack the glass. Nowhere in closest-built London is there such a +lane—one would imagine land to be dear indeed. The farm +labourers, filing homewards after their day's work, each carry +poles of oak or fagots on their shoulders for their hearths, +generally oak branches; it is their perquisite. The oak somehow +takes root among the interstices of the stones of this rocky land. +Past the houses the rush! rush! of the brown Barle rises again in +the still evening air.</p> +<p>From the Devon border I drifted like a leaf detached from a +tree, across to a deep coombe in the Quantock Hills. The vast +hollow is made for repose and lotus-eating; its very shape, like a +hammock, indicates idleness. There the days go over noiselessly and +without effort, like white summer clouds. Ridges each side rise +high and heroically steep—it would be proper to set out and +climb them, but not to-day, not now: some time presently. To the +left massive Will's Neck stands out in black shadow defined and +distinct, like a fragment of night in the bright light of the day. +The wild red deer lie there, but the mountain is afar; a sigh is +all I can give to it, for the Somerset sun is warm and the lotus +sweet Yonder, if the misty heat moves on, the dim line of Dunkery +winds along the sky, not unlike the curved back of a crouching +hare. The weight of the mountains is too great—what is the +use of attempting to move? It is enough to look at them. The day +goes over like a white cloud; as the sun declines it is pleasant to +go into the orchard—the vineyard of Somerset, and then +perhaps westward may be seen a light in the sky by the horizon as +if thrown up from an immense mirror under. The mirror is the Severn +sea, itself invisible at this depth, but casting a white glow up +against the vapour in the air. By it you may recognise the nearness +of the sea. The thumb-nail ridges of the Quantocks begin to grow +harder, they carry the eye along on soft curves like those of the +South Downs in Sussex, but suddenly end in a flourish and point as +if cut out with the thumb-nail. Draw your thumb-nail firmly along +soft wood, and it will, by its natural slip, form such a curve. +Blackbird and thrush commence to sing as the heavy heat decreases; +the bloom on the apple trees is loose now, and the blackbird as he +springs from the bough shakes down flakes of blossom.</p> +<p>Towards even a wind moves among the lengthening shadows, and my +footsteps involuntarily seek the glen, where a streamlet trickles +down over red flat stones which resound musically as the water +strikes them. Ferns are growing so thickly in the hedge that soon +it will seem composed of their fronds; the first June rose hangs +above their green tips. A water-ousel with white breast rises and +flies on; again disturbed, he makes a circle, and returns to the +stream behind. On the moist earth there is the print of a hare's +pad; here is a foxglove out in flower; and now as the incline rises +heather thickens on the slope. Sometimes we wander beside the +streamlet which goes a mile into the coombe—the shadow is +deep and cool in the vast groove of the hill, the shadow +accumulates there, and is pressed by its own weight—up slowly +as far as the 'sog,' or peaty place where the spring rises, and +where the sundew grows. Sometimes climbing steep and rocky +walls—scarce sprinkled with grass—we pause every other +minute to look down on the great valley which reaches across to +Dunkery. The horned sheep, which are practically wild, like wild +creatures, have worn out holes for themselves to lie in beside the +hill. If resolution is strong, we move through the dark heather +(soon to be purple), startling the heath-poults, or black game, +till at last the Channel opens, and the far-distant Flat and Steep +Holms lie, as it looks, afloat on the dim sea. This is labour +enough; stern indeed must be the mind that could work at summer's +noon in Somerset, when the apple vineyards slumber; when the tall +foxgloves stand in the heavy heat and the soft air warms the +deepest day-shadow so that nothing is cool to the touch but the +ferns. Is there anything so good as to do nothing?</p> +<p>Fame travels slowly up these breathless hills, and pauses +overcome in the heated hollow lanes. A famous wit of European +reputation, when living, resided in Somerset. A traveller one day +chancing to pass through the very next parish inquired of a local +man if somebody called Sydney Smith did not once live in that +neighbourhood. 'Yes,' was the reply, 'I've heard all about Sydney +Smith; I can tell you. He was a highwayman, and was hung on that +hill there.' He would have shown the very stump of the gallows-tree +as proof positive, like Jack Cade's bricks, alive in the chimney to +this day.</p> +<p>There really was a highwayman, however, whose adventures are +said to have suggested one of the characters in the romance of +'Lorna Doone.' This desperate fellow had of course his houses of +call, where he could get refreshment safely, on the moors. One +bitter winter's day the robber sat down to a hearty dinner in an +inn at Exford. Placing his pistols before him, he made himself +comfortable, and ate and drank his fill. By-and-by an old woman +entered, and humbly took a seat in a corner far from the fire. In +time the highwayman observed the wretched, shivering creature, and +of his princely generosity told her to come and sit by the hearth. +The old woman gladly obeyed, and crouched beside him. Presently, as +he sat absorbed in his meal, his arms were suddenly pinioned from +behind. The old woman had him tight, so that he could not use his +weapons, while at a call constables, who had been posted about, +rushed in and secured him. The old woman was in fact a man in +disguise. A relation of the thief-taker still lives and tells the +tale. The highwayman's mare, mentioned in the novel, had been +trained to come at his call, and was so ungovernable that they shot +her.</p> +<p>Such tracts of open country, moors, and unenclosed hills were +the haunts of highwaymen till a late period, and memories of the +gallows, and of escapes from them, are common. A well-to-do farmer +who used to attend Bristol market, and dispose there of large +quantities of stock and produce, dared not bring home the money +himself lest he should be robbed. He entrusted the cash to his +drover; the farmer rode along the roads, the drover made short cuts +on foot, and arrived safely with the money. This went on for years, +in which time the honest fellow—a mere labourer—carried +some thousands of pounds for his master, faithfully delivering +every shilling. He had, however, a little failing—a dangerous +one in those days, when the gallows was the punishment for +sheep-stealing. He was known to be a sheep-stealer, and actually +after bringing home a hundred pounds would go and put his neck in +danger the very same night by taking a sheep. This went on for some +time, people shut their eyes, but at last patience was exhausted, +and efforts were made to catch him in the act, without success.</p> +<p>One night he came home in the usual manner from market, +delivered the cash, and went to his cottage. Next day a little girl +was sent on an innocent errand to the cottage, with orders while +she was there to look sharply round and observe if there were any +ashes on the floor. She came back with the news that there was a +heap of wood ashes. Immediately a posse set out, and the drover was +arrested. The use of the ashes by sheep-stealers was to suck up and +remove stains of blood, which were certain to be left in cutting up +the animal. Sufficient proof was found in the cottage to condemn +the honest thief to be hung; great exertions were, however, made in +his behalf; and principally, it is supposed, on account of his +character for carrying large sums of money untouched, he was saved. +There is a story of the smugglers—once notorious folk on +these hills—teaching their horses to understand the usual +words of command backwards. If they were driving pack-horses along +at night with a load of brandy landed from a lugger, and were met +by the revenue men, who ordered them to stop that the packs might +be searched, the smugglers, like good and loyal subjects, called +'Whoa! whoa!' Instantly the horses set off at a tearing gallop, for +they understood 'Whoa!' as' Gee-up!'</p> +<p>By a farmer's door I found a tall branch of oak lying against +the porch. The bark was dry, and the leaves were shrivelled, but +the bough had been originally taken green from the tree. These +boughs are discovered against the door on the morning of the 29th +of May, and are in memory of the escape of King Charles from his +enemies by hiding in an oak. The village ringers leave them, and +then go to the church and ring a peal, for which they expect cider +or small coin from each loyal person honoured with an oak branch. +Another custom, infinitely more ancient, is that of singing to the +apple trees in early spring, so that the orchards may be induced to +bear a good crop. The singers come round and visit each orchard; +they have a rhyme specially for the purpose, part of the refrain of +which is that a cup of good cider cannot do any one harm—a +hint which brings out a canful. In strange contrast to these genial +customs, which accord so well with flowery fields, I heard an +instance of the coldest indifference. An old couple lived for many +years in a cottage; at last the wife died, and the husband, while +the body was in the house, had his meals on the coffin as a +table.</p> +<p>A hundred years since, before steam, the corn was threshed out +by the flail—a slow, and consequently expensive process. Many +efforts were made to thresh quicker. Among others, wooden machines +were put up in some of the villages, something resembling a +water-wheel placed horizontally. This was moved by horses walking +round and round, and drove machinery in the barn by belt or +shafting. The labourers, greatly incensed—for they regarded +threshing by the flail as their right—tried to burn them, but +the structures were guarded and still exist. Under the modern +conditions of farming they are still found useful to cut chaff, +crack corn, and so on. The ancient sickle is yet in use for reaping +in Somerset; the reapers sharpen it by drawing the edge through an +apple, when the acid bites and cleans the steel. While we were +sauntering through a village one morning, out rushed the boys from +school, and instantly their tongues began to wag of those things on +which their hearts were set. 'I know a jay's nest, said one; 'I +know an owl's nest,' cried a second; a third hastened to claim +knowledge of a pigeon's nest. It will be long before education +drives the natural love of the woods out of the children's hearts. +Of old time a village school used to be held in an ancient +building, the lower part of which was occupied as almshouses. +Underneath the ancient folk lived as best they might, while the +young folk learned and gave their class responses, or romped on the +floor overhead. The upper part of the building belonged to one +owner, the lower part to another landlord. It came about that the +roof decayed and the upper owner suggested to the lower owner that +they should agree in bearing the cost of repairs. Upon which the +owner of the basement remarked that he contemplated <i>pulling his +part down.</i></p> +<p>In these hamlets along the foot of the hills ancient stone +crosses are often found. One of them has retained its top perfect, +and really is a cross, not a shaft only. This is, I think, rare. +Sometimes in the village street, the slender column grey against +the green trees, sometimes in the churchyard, these crosses come on +the mind like a sudden enigma. It requires an effort to grasp their +meaning, so long have the ideas passed away which led to their +erection. They almost startle modern thought. How many years since +the peasant women knelt at their steps! On the base of one which +has a sculptured shaft the wall-rue fern was growing. A young +starling was perched on the yew by it; he could but just fly, and +fluttered across to the sill of the church window. Young birds +called pettishly for food from the bushes. Upon the banks +hart's-tongue was coming up fresh and green, and the early orchis +was in flower. Fern and flower and fledglings had come again as +they have come every year since the oldest of these ancient shafts +was erected, for life is older, life is greyer, than the +weather-beaten mouldings. But life, too, is fresh and young; the +stern thought in the stone becomes more cold and grim as the +centuries pass away. In the crevices at the foot of another cross +wallflowers blossomed, and plants of evening primrose, not yet in +flower, were growing. Under a great yew lay the last decaying beam +of the stocks. A little yew tree grew on the top of the church +tower, its highest branch just above the parapet. A thrush perhaps +planted it—thrushes are fond of the viscous yew berries. +Through green fields, in which the grass as rising high and sweet, +a footpath took me by a solitary mill with an undershot wheel. The +sheds about here are often supported on round columns of stone. +Beyond the mill is a pleasant meadow, quiet, still, and sunlit; +buttercup, sorrel, and daisy flowered among the grasses down to the +streamlet, where comfrey, with white and pink-lined bells, stood at +the water's edge. A renowned painter, Walker, who died early, used +to work in this meadow: the original scene from which he took his +picture of <i>The Plough</i> is not far distant. The painter is +gone; the grasses and the flowers are renewed with the summer. As I +stood by the brook a water-rat came swimming, drawing a large +dock-leaf in his mouth; seeing me, he dived, and took the leaf with +him under water.</p> +<p>Everywhere wild strawberries were flowering on the +banks—wild strawberries have been found ripe in January here; +everywhere ferns were thickening and extending, foxgloves opening +their bells. Another deep coombe led me into the mountainous +Quantocks, far below the heather, deep beside another trickling +stream. In this land the sound of running water is perpetual, the +red flat stones are resonant, and the speed of the stream draws +forth music like quick fingers on the keys; the sound of running +water and the pleading voice of the willow-wren are always heard in +summer. Among the oaks growing on the steep hill-side the +willow-wrens repeated their sweet prayer; the water as it ran now +rose and now fell; there was a louder note as a little stone was +carried over a fall. The shadow came slowly out from the oak-grown +side of the coombe, it reached to the margin of the brook. Under +the oaks there appears nothing but red stones, as if the trees were +rooted in them; under the boughs probably the grass does not cover +the rock as it does on the opposite side. There mountain-ashes +flowered in loose order on the green slope. Redstarts perched on +them, darting out to seize passing insects. Still deeper in the +coombe the oaks stood on either side of the stream; it was the +beginning of woods which reach for miles, in which occasionally the +wild red deer wander, and drink at the clear waters. By now the +shadow of the western hill-top had crossed the brooklet, and the +still coombe became yet more silent. There was an alder, ivy-grown, +beside the stream—a tree with those lines which take an +artist's fancy. Under the roots of alders the water-ousel often +creeps by day, and the tall heron stalks past at night. Receding up +the eastern slope of the coombe the sunlight left the dark alder's +foliage in the deep shadow of the hollow. I went up the slope till +I could see the sun, and waited; in a few minutes the shadow +reached me, and it was sunset; I went still higher, and presently +the sun set again. A cool wind was drawing up the coombe, it was +dusky in the recesses of the oaks, and the water of the stream had +become dark when we emerged from the great hollow, and yet without +the summer's evening had but just commenced, and the banks were +still heated by the sun.</p> +<p>In contrast to the hills and moors which are so open and wild, +the broad vales beneath are closely shut in with hedges. The fields +are all of moderate size, unlike the great pastures elsewhere, so +that the constant succession of hedges, one after the other, for +ten, twenty, or more miles, encloses the country as it were +fivefold. Most of the fields are square, or at all events +right-angled, unlike the irregular outline and corners of fields in +other counties. The number of meadows make it appear as if the land +was chiefly grass, though there is really a fair proportion of +arable. Over every green hedge there seems a grassy mead; in every +hedge trees are numerous, and their thick June foliage, green too, +gives a sense of green colour everywhere. But this is relieved with +red—the soil is red, and where the plough has been the red +furrows stand out so brightly as to seem lifted a little from the +level. These red squares when on the side of rising ground show for +many miles. The stones are red that lie about, the road dust has a +reddish tint, so have the walls of the cottages and mills. Where +the banks of the hedges can be seen (or where rabbits have thrown +out the earth) they are red, and the water in the ditches and +streamlets looks red—it is in fact clear, and the colour is +that of the sand and stones. The footpath winds a red band through +the grass of the meads, and if it passes under a cliff the rock too +rises aslant in red lines. Along the cropped hedges red campions +flower so thickly as to take the place of green leaves, and by +every gateway red foxgloves grow. Red trifolium is a favourite +crop; it is not much redder than the land which bears it. The hues +of the red ploughed squares, seen through the trees, vary as the +sun dries or the rain moistens the colour. Then, again, the ferns +as the summer advances bring forward their green to the aid of the +leaves and grass, so that red and green constantly strive +together.</p> +<p>There is a fly-rod in every house, almost every felt hat has gut +and flies wound round it, and every one talks trout. Every one, +too, complained that the rivers were so low it was difficult to +angle. This circumstance, however, rendered the hues of the rocky +banks more distinct. Sitting down to dinner by chance with two +farmers, one began to tell me how he had beguiled three trout the +previous evening; and the other described how, as he was walking in +a field of his by the river, he had seen an otter. These creatures, +which are becoming sadly scarce, if not indeed extinct in many +counties, are still fairly numerous in the waters here. I hope they +will long remain so, for although they certainly do destroy great +numbers of fish, yet it must be remembered that in this country our +list of wild animals has been gradually decreasing for centuries, +and especially wild animals that show sport. The otter, I fear, is +going; I hope the sportsmen of Somerset will see that it remains in +their county, at all events, when it has become a tradition +elsewhere. Otter hounds frequently visit the rivers, and first-rate +sport is obtained. In these villages, two hundred miles from +London, and often far from the rail, some of the conditions +resemble those in the United States, where, instead of shops, +'stores' supply every article from one counter. So here you buy +everything in one shop; it is really a 'store in the American +sense. A house which seems amid fields is called 'The Dragon;' you +would suppose it an inn, but it is a shop, and has been so ever +since the olden times when every trader put out a sign. The sign +has gone, but the name remains.</p> +<p>Somewhere in a wood there is a stone, supposed to be a tombstone +of the prophetess Mother Shipton, and bearing an undecipherable +inscription. One of her rhymes is well remembered in the +neighbourhood:—</p> +<pre> + When Watchet is all washed down + Williton shall be a seaport town. +</pre> +This is founded on the gradual encroachment of the sea, which is a +fact, but it will be some time yet before masts are seen at +Williton.<br> +<br> + +<p>At Dunster there is a curious mill which has two wheels, +overshot, one in front of the other, and both driven by the same +sluice. It as very hot as we stood by the wheels; the mill dust +came forth and sprinkled the foliage so that the leaves seemed +scarce able to breathe; it drifted almost to the stream hard by, +where trout were watching under a cloud of midges dancing over the +ripples. They look as if entangled in an inextricable maze, but if +you let your eye travel, say to the right, as you would follow the +flight of a bird, you find that one side of the current of insects +flies up that way, and the other side returns. They go to and fro +in regular order, exactly like the fashionable folk in Rotten Row, +but the two ranks pass so quickly that looked at both together the +vision cannot separate them, they are faster than the impression on +the retina.</p> +<p>At Selworthy a footpath leads up through a wood on Selworthy +Hill, and as it ascends, always at the side of the slope, gradually +opens out what is perhaps the finest view of Dunkery Beacon, the +Dunkery range, and that edge of Exmoor on to the shore of the sea. +Across the deep vale the Exmoor mountains rise and reach on either +hand, immense breadths of dark heather, deep coombes filled with +black shadow, and rounded masses that look dry and heated. To the +right is the gleaming sea, and the distant sound of the surge comes +up to the wood. The headland and its three curves boldly project +into the sunlit waters; from its foot many a gallant stag hard +pressed by the hounds has swum out into the track of passing +vessels. Selworthy Woods were still in the afternoon heat; except +for the occasional rustle of a rabbit or of a pheasant, there was +no evidence of life; the sound of the sea was faint and soon lost +among the ferns. Slowly, very slowly, great Dunkery grew less hard +of aspect, shadows drew along at the base, while again the +declining sun from time to time sent his beams into valleys till +now dark. The thatched house at Holnicote by the foot of Selworthy +much interested me; it is one of the last of thatched houses +inhabited by a gentleman and landed proprietor. Sir Thomas Acland, +who resides here, is a very large owner. Thatch prevails on his +estates; thatched cottages, thatched farmhouses, and his thatched +mansion. In the coolness of the evening the birds began to sing and +squirrels played across the lawn in front of Holnicote House. +Humble-bees hummed in the grass and visited the flowers of the +holly bushes. Thrushes sang, and chaffinches, and, sweetest of all, +if simplest in notes, the greenfinches talked and courted in the +trees. Two cuckoos called in different directions, wood-pigeons +raised their voices in Selworthy Wood, and rooks went over cawing +in their deliberate way. In the level meadow from among the tall +grasses and white-flowering wild parsley a landrail called 'crake, +crake,' ceaselessly. There was a sense of rest and quiet, and with +it a joyousness of bird-life, such as should be about an English +homestead.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="27">AN ENGLISH DEER-PARK.</a></h3> +<p>There is an old park wall which follows the highway in all its +turns with such fidelity of curve that for some two miles it seems +as if the road had been fitted to the wall. Against it hawthorn +bushes have grown up at intervals, and in the course of years their +trunks have become almost timber. Ivy has risen round some of +these, and, connecting them with the wall, gives them at a distance +the appearance of green bastions. Large stems of ivy, too, have +flattened themselves upon the wall, as if with arched back they +were striving like athletes to overthrow it. Mosses, brown in +summer, soft green in winter, cover it where there is shadow, and +if pulled up take with them some of the substance of the stone or +mortar like a crust, A dry, dusty fern may perhaps be found now and +then on the low bank at the foot—a fern that would rather be +within the park than thus open to the heated south with the wall +reflecting the sunshine behind. On the other side of the road, over +the thin hedge, there is a broad plain of corn-fields. Coming from +these the labourers have found out, or made, notches in the wall; +so that, by putting the iron-plated toes of their boots in, and +holding to the ivy, they can scale it and shorten their long trudge +home to the village. In the spring the larks, passing from the +green corn to the pasture within, fluttering over with gently +vibrating wings and singing as they daintily go, sometimes settle +on the top. There too the yellow-hammers stay. In the crevices blue +tits build deep inside passages that abruptly turn, and baffle +egg-stealers. Partridges come over with a whir, but just clearing +the top, gliding on extended wings, which to the eye look like a +slight brown crescent. The waggoners who go by know that the great +hawthorn bastions are favourite resorts of wood-pigeons and +missel-thrushes. The haws are ripe in autumn and the ivy berries in +spring, so that the bastions yield a double crop. A mallow, the +mauve petals of which even the dust of the road cannot impair, +flowers here and there on the dry bank below, and broad +moon-daisies among the ripe and almost sapless grass of +midsummer.</p> +<p>If any one climbed the wall from the park and looked across at +the plain of corn-fields in early spring, everywhere there would be +seen brown dots in the air—above the first slender green +blades; above the freshly turned dark furrows; above the distant +plough, the share of which, polished like a silver mirror by +friction with the clods, reflects the sunshine, flashing a +heliograph message of plenty from the earth; everywhere brown dots, +and each a breathing creature—larks ceaselessly singing, and +all unable to set forth their joy. Swift as is the vibration of +their throats, they cannot pour the notes fast enough to express +their eager welcome. As a shower falls from the sky, so falls the +song of the larks. There is no end to them: they are everywhere; +over every acre away across the plain to the downs, and up on the +highest hill. Every crust of English bread has been sung over at +its birth in the green blade by a lark.</p> +<p>If one looked again in June, the clover itself, a treasure of +beauty and sweetness, would be out, and the south wind would come +over acres of flower—acres of clover, beans, tares, purple +trifolium, far-away crimson sainfoin (brightest of all on the +hills), scarlet poppies, pink convolvulus, yellow charlock, and +green wheat coming into ear. In August, already squares would be +cut into the wheat, and the sheaves rising, bound about the middle, +hour-glass fashion; some breadths of wheat yellow, some +golden-bronze; besides these, white barley and oats, and beans +blackening. Turtle-doves would be in the stubble, for they love to +be near the sheaves. The hills after or during rain look green and +near; on sunny days, a far and faint blue. Sometimes the sunset is +caught in the haze on them and lingers, like a purple veil about +the ridges. In the dusk hares come heedlessly along; the +elder-bushes gleam white with creamy petals through the night.</p> +<p>Sparrows and partridges alike dust themselves in the white dust, +an inch deep, of midsummer, in the road between the wall and the +corn—a pitiless Sahara road to traverse at noonday in July, +when the air is still and you walk in a hollow way, the yellow +wheat on one side and the wall on the other. There is shade in the +park within, but a furnace of sunlight without—weariness to +the eyes and feet from glare and dust. The wall winds with the +highway and cannot be escaped. It goes up the slight elevations and +down the slopes; it has become settled down and bound with time. +But presently there is a steeper dip, and at the bottom, in a +narrow valley, a streamlet flows out from the wheat into the park. +A spring rises at the foot of the down a mile away, and the channel +it has formed winds across the plain. It is narrow and shallow; +nothing but a larger furrow, filled in winter by the rains rushing +off the fields, and in summer a rill scarce half an inch deep. The +wheat hides the channel completely, and as the wind blows, the tall +ears bend over it. At the edge of the bank pink convolvulus twines +round the stalks and the green-flowered buckwheat gathers several +together. The sunlight cannot reach the stream, which runs in +shadow, deep down below the wheat-ears, over which butterflies +wander. Forget-me-nots flower under the banks; grasses lean on the +surface; willow-herbs, tall and stiff, stand up; but out from the +tangled and interlaced fibres the water flows as clear as it rose +by the hill. There is a culvert under the road, and on the opposite +side the wall admits the stream by an arch jealously guarded by +bars. In this valley the wall is lower and thicker and less covered +at the top with ivy, so that where the road rises over the culvert +you can see into the park. The stream goes rounding away through +the sward, bending somewhat to the right, where the ground +gradually descends. On the left side, at some distance, stands a +row of full-grown limes, and through these there is a glimpse of +the old manor-house. It is called the old house because the +requirements of modern days have rendered it unsuitable for an +establishment. A much larger mansion has been erected in another +part of the park nearer the village, with a façade visible +from the highway. The old manor-house is occupied by the +land-steward, or, as he prefers to be called, the deputy-forester, +who is also the oldest and largest tenant on the estate. It is he +who rules the park. The labourers and keepers call him the +'squire.'</p> +<p>Now the old squire's favourite resort is the window-seat in the +gun-room, because thence he can see a section of the highway, +which, where it crosses the streamlet, comes within half a mile of +the house. There the hollow and the lower wall permit any one at +this window to obtain a view of the road on one of the sides of the +valley. At this declivity it almost faces the house, and whether +the passers-by are going to the market town, or returning to the +village, they cannot escape observation. If they come from the +town, the steep descent compels them to walk their horses down it; +if from the village, they have a hard pull up. So the oaken +window-seat in the gun-room is as polished and smooth as an old +saddle; for if the squire is indoors, he is certain to be there. He +often rests there after half an hour's work on one or other of the +guns in the rack; for, though he seldom uses but one, he likes to +take the locks to pieces upon a little bench which he has fitted +up, and where he has a vice, tools, a cartridge-loading apparatus, +and so forth, from which the room acquired its name. With the naked +eye, however, as the road is half a mile distant, it is not +possible to distinguish persons, except in cases of very pronounced +individuality. Nevertheless old 'Ettles,' the keeper, always +declared that he could see a hare run up the down from the park, +say a mile and a half. This may be true; but in the gun-room there +is a field-glass, said to have been used at the siege of +Seringapatam, which the squire can bring to bear upon the road in +an instant, for from constant use at the same focus there is a rim +round the tarnished brass. No time, therefore, need be lost in +trials; it can be drawn out to the well-known mark at once. The +window itself is large, but there is a casement in it,—a +lesser window,—which can be thrown open with a mere twist of +the thumb on the button, and as it swings open it catches itself on +a hasp. Then the field-glass examines the distant wayfarer.</p> +<p>When people have dwelt for generations in one place they come to +know the history of their immediate world. There was not a waggon +that went by without a meaning to the squire. One perhaps brought a +load of wool from the downs: it was old Hobbes's, whose affairs he +had known these forty years. Another, with wheat, was Lambourne's +team: he lost heavily in 1879, the wet year. The family and +business concerns of every man of any substance were as well known +to the squire as if they had been written in a chronicle. So, too, +he knew the family tendency, as it were, of the cottagers. So and +So's lads were always tall, another's girls always tidy. If you +employed a member of this family, you were sure to be well served; +if of another, you were sure to be cheated in some way. Men vary +like trees: an ash sapling is always straight, the bough of an oak +crooked, a fir full of knots. A man, said the squire, should be +straight like a gun. This section of the highway gave him the daily +news of the village as the daily papers give us the news of the +world. About two hundred yards from the window the row of limes +began, each tree as tall and large as an elm, having grown to its +full natural size. The last of the row came very near obstructing +the squire's line of sight, and it once chanced that some +projecting branches by degrees stretched out across his field of +view. This circumstance caused him much mental trouble; for, having +all his life consistently opposed any thinning out or trimming of +trees, he did not care to issue an order which would almost confess +a mistake. Besides which, why only these particular +branches?—the object would be so apparent. The squire, while +conversing with Ettles, twice, as if unconsciously, directed his +steps beneath these limes, and, striking the offending boughs with +his stick, remarked that they grew extremely fast. But the keeper, +usually so keen to take a hint, only answered that the lime was the +quickest wood to grow of which he knew. In his heart he enjoyed the +squire's difficulty. Finally the squire, legalising his foible by +recognising it, fetched a ladder and a hatchet, and chopped off the +boughs with his own hands.</p> +<p>It was from the gun-room window that the squire observed the +change of the seasons and the flow of time. The larger view he +often had on horseback of miles of country did not bring it home to +him. The old familiar trees, the sward, the birds, these told him +of the advancing or receding sun. As he reclined in the corner of +the broad window-seat, his feet up, and drowsy, of a summer +afternoon, he heard the languid cawing of an occasional rook, for +rooks are idle in the heated hours of the day. He was aware, +without conscious observation, of the swift, straight line drawn +across the sky by a wood-pigeon. The pigeons were continually to +and fro the cornfields outside the wall to the south and the woods +to the north, and their shortcut route passed directly over the +limes. To the limes the bees went when their pale yellow flowers +appeared. Not many butterflies floated over the short sward, which +was fed too close for flowers. The butterflies went to the old +garden, rising over the high wall as if they knew beforehand of the +flowers that were within. Under the sun the short grass dried as it +stood, and with the sap went its green. There came a golden tint on +that part of the wheat-fields which could be seen over the road. A +few more days—how few they seemed!—and there was a spot +of orange on the beech in a little copse near the limes. The bucks +were bellowing in the forest: as the leaves turned colour their +loves began and the battles for the fair. Again a few days and the +snow came, and rendered visible the slope of the ground in the +copse between the trunks of the trees: the ground there was at +other times indistinct under brambles and withered fern. The squire +left the window for his arm-chair by the fire; but if presently, as +often happens when frost quickly follows a snow-storm, the sun +shone out and a beam fell on the wall, he would get up and look +out. Every footstep in the snow contained a shadow cast by the +side, and the dazzling white above and the dark within produced a +blue tint. Yonder by the limes the rabbits ventured out for a stray +bunch of grass not quite covered by the drift, tired, no doubt, of +the bitter bark of the ash-rods that they had nibbled in the night. +As they scampered, each threw up a white cloud of snow-dust behind +him. Yet a few days and the sward grew greener. The pale winter +hue, departing as the spring mist came trailing over, caught for a +while in the copse, and, lingering there, the ruddy buds and twigs +of the limes were refreshed. The larks rose a little way to sing in +the moist air. A rook, too, perching on the top of a low tree, +attempted other notes than his monotonous caw. So absorbed was he +in his song that you might have walked under him unnoticed. He +uttered four or five distinct sounds that would have formed a +chant, but he paused between each as if uncertain of his throat. +Then, as the sun shone, with a long-drawn 'ca-awk' he flew to find +his mate, for it would soon be time to repair the nest in the +limes. The butterflies came again and the year was completed, yet +it seemed but a few days to the squire. Perhaps if he lived for a +thousand years, after a while he would wonder at the rapidity with +which the centuries slipped by.</p> +<p>By the limes there was a hollow—the little circular copse +was on the slope—and jays came to it as they worked from tree +to tree across the park. Their screeching often echoed through the +open casement of the gunroom. A faint mark on the sward trended +towards this hollow; it was a trail made by the squire, one of +whose favourite strolls was in this direction. This summer morning, +taking his gun, he followed the trail once more.</p> +<p>The grass was longer and coarser under the shadow of the limes, +and upborne on the branches were numerous little sticks which had +dropped from the rookery above. Sometimes there was an overthrown +nest like a sack of twigs turned out on the turf, such as the +hedgers rake together after fagoting. Looking up into the trees on +a summer's day not a bird could be seen, till suddenly there was a +quick 'jack-jack' above, as a daw started from his hole or from +where the great boughs joined the trunk. The squire's path went +down the hollow till it deepened into a thinly wooded coomb, +through which ran the streamlet coming from the wheat-fields under +the road. As the coomb opened, the squire went along a hedge near +but not quite to the top. Years ago the coomb had been quarried for +chalk, and the pits were only partly concealed by the bushes: the +yellow spikes of wild mignonette flourished on the very hedge, and +even half way down the precipices. From the ledge above, the eye +could see into these and into the recesses between the brushwood. +The squire's son, Mr. Martin, used to come here with his +rook-rifle, for he could always get a shot at a rabbit in the +hollow. They could not see him approach; and the ball, if it +missed, did no damage, being caught as in a bowl. Rifles in +England, even when their range is but a hundred yards or so, are +not to be used without caution. Some one may be in the hedge +nutting, or a labourer may be eating his luncheon in the shelter; +it is never possible to tell who may be behind the screen of +brambles through which the bullet slips so easily. Into these +hollows Martin could shoot with safety. As for the squire, he did +not approve of rifles. He adhered to his double-barrel; and if a +buck had to be killed, he depended on his smoothbore to carry a +heavy ball forty yards with fair accuracy. The fawns were knocked +over with a wire cartridge unless Mr. Martin was in the +way—he liked to try a rifle. Even in summer the old squire +generally had his double-barrel with him—perhaps he might +come across a weasel, or a stoat, or a crow. That was his excuse; +but, in fact, without a gun the woods lost half their meaning to +him. With it he could stand and watch the buck grazing in the +glade, or a troop of fawns—sweet little creatures—so +demurely feeding down the grassy slope from the beeches. Already at +midsummer the nuts were full formed on the beeches; the green figs, +too, he remembered were on the old fig-tree trained against the +warm garden wall. The horse-chestnuts showed the little green knobs +which would soon enlarge and hang all prickly, like the spiked +balls of a holy-water sprinkle, such as was once used in the wars. +Of old the folk, having no books, watched every living thing, from +the moss to the oak, from the mouse to the deer; and all that we +know now of animals and plants is really founded upon their acute +and patient observation. How many years it took even to find out a +good salad may be seen from ancient writings, wherein half the +plants about the hedges are recommended as salad herbs: dire indeed +would be our consternation if we had to eat them. As the beech-nuts +appear, and the horse-chestnuts enlarge, and the fig swells, the +apples turn red and become visible in the leafy branches of the +apple-trees. Like horses, deer are fond of apples, and in former +times, when deer-stealing was possible, they were often decoyed +with them.</p> +<p>There is no tree so much of the forest as the beech. On the +verge of woods the oaks are far apart, the ashes thin; the verge is +like a wilderness and scrubby, so that the forest does not seem to +begin till you have penetrated some distance. Under the beeches the +forest begins at once. They stand at the edge of the slope, huge +round boles rising from the mossy ground, wide fans of +branches—a shadow under them, a greeny darkness beyond. There +is depth there—depth to be explored, depth to hide in. If +there is a path, it is arched over like a tunnel with boughs; you +know not whither it goes. The fawns are sweetest in the sunlight, +moving down from the shadow; the doe best partly in shadow, partly +in sun, when the branch of a tree casts its interlaced work, fine +as Algerian silverwork, upon the back; the buck best when he stands +among the fern, alert, yet not quite alarmed—for he knows the +length of his leap—his horns up, his neck high, his dark eye +bent on you, and every sinew strung to spring away. One spot of +sunlight, bright and white, falls through the branches upon his +neck, a fatal place, or near it: a guide, that bright white spot, +to the deadly bullet, as in old days to the cross-bow bolt. It was +needful even then to be careful of the aim, for the herd, as +Shakespeare tells us, at once recognised the sound of a cross-bow: +the jar of the string, tight-strained to the notch by the +goat's-foot lever, the slight whiz of the missile, were enough to +startle them and to cause the rest to swerve and pass out of range. +Yet the cross-bow was quiet indeed compared with the gun which took +its place. The cross-bow was the beginning of shooting proper, as +we now understand it; that is, of taking an aim by the bringing of +one point into a line with another. With the long-bow aim indeed +was taken, but quite differently, for if the arrow were kept +waiting with the string drawn, the eye and the hand would not go +true together. The quicker the arrow left the bow the moment that +it was full drawn, the better the result. On the other hand, the +arblast was in no haste, but was adjusted deliberately—so +deliberately that it gave rise to a proverb, 'A fool's bolt is soon +shot.' This could not apply to the long-bow, with which the arrow +was discharged swiftly, while an arblast was slowly brought to the +level like a rifle. As it was hard to draw again, that added +strength to the saying; but it arose from the deliberation with +which a good cross-bowman aimed. To the long-bow the cross-bow was +the express rifle. The express delivers its bullet accurately +point-blank—the bullet flies straight to its mark up to a +certain distance. So the cross-bow bolt flew point-blank, and thus +its application to hunting when the deer were really killed for +their venison. The hunter stole through the fern, or crept about +the thickets—thickets and fern exactly like those here +to-day—or waited Indian-like in ambush behind an oak as the +herd fed that way, and, choosing the finest buck, aimed his bolt so +as either to slay at once or to break the fore-leg. Like the hare, +if the fore-leg is injured, deer cannot progress; if only the +hind-quarter is hit, there is no telling how far they may go. +Therefore the cross-bow, as enabling the hunter to choose the exact +spot where his bolt should strike, became the weapon of the chase, +and by its very perfection began the extermination of the deer. +Instead of the hounds and the noisy hunt, any man who could use the +cross-bow could kill a buck. The long-bow, of all weapons, requires +the most practice, and practice begun in early youth. Some of the +extraordinary feats attributed to the outlaws in the woods and to +the archers of the ancient English army are quite possible, but +must have necessitated the constant use of a bow from childhood, so +that it became second nature. But almost any man who has strength +to set a cross-bow, with moderate practice, and any idea at all of +shooting, could become a fairly good shot with it. From the +cross-bow to a gun was a comparatively easy step, and it was the +knowledge of the power of the one that led to the quick +introduction of the other. For gunpowder was hardly discovered +before hand-guns were thought of, and no discovery ever spread so +swiftly. Then the arquebuse swept away the old English chase.</p> +<p>These deer exist by permission. They are protected with jealous +care; or rather they have been protected so long that by custom +they have grown semi-consecrated, and it is rare for anyone to +think of touching them. The fawns wander, and a man, if he choose, +might often knock one over with his axe as he comes home from his +work. The deer browse up to the very skirts of the farmhouse below, +sometimes even enter the rick-yard, and once now and then, if a +gate be left open, walk in and eat the pease in the garden. The +bucks are still a little wilder, a little more nervous for their +liberty, but there is no difficulty in stalking them to within +forty or fifty yards. They have either lost their original delicacy +of scent, or else do not respond to it, as the approach of a man +does not alarm them, else it would be necessary to study the wind; +but you may get thus near them without any thought of the +breeze—no nearer; then, bounding twice or thrice, lifting +himself each time as high as the fern, the buck turns half towards +you to see whether his retreat should or should not be +continued.</p> +<p>The fawns have come out from the beeches, because there is more +grass on the slope and in the hollow, where trees are few. Under +the trees in the forest proper there is little food for them. Deer, +indeed, seem fonder of half-open places than of the wood itself. +Thickets, with fern at the foot and spaces of sward between, are +their favourite haunts. Heavily timbered land and impenetrable +underwood are not so much resorted to. The deer here like to get +away from the retreats which shelter them, to wander in the +half-open grounds on that part of the park free to them, or, if +possible, if they see a chance, out into the fields. Once now and +then a buck escapes, and is found eight or ten miles away. If the +pale were removed how quickly the deer would leave the close forest +which in imagination is so associated with them! It is not their +ideal. They would rather wander over the hills and along the river +valleys. The forest is, indeed, and always would be their cover, +and its shadows their defence; but for enjoyment they would of +choice seek the sweet herbage, which does not flourish where the +roots of trees and underwood absorb all the richness of the soil. +The farther the trees are apart the better the forest pleases them. +Those great instinctive migrations of wild animals which take place +annually in America are not possible in England. The deer here +cannot escape—solitary individuals getting free of course, +now and then; they cannot move in a body, and it is not easy to +know whether any such desire remains among them. So far as I am +aware, there is no mention of such migrations in the most ancient +times; but the omission proves nothing, for before the Normans, +before the game laws and parks together came into existence, no one +who could write thought enough of the deer to notice their motions. +The monks were engaged in chronicling the inroads of the pagans, or +writing chronologies of the Roman Empire. On analogical grounds it +would seem quite possible that in their original state the English +deer did move from part to part of the country with the seasons. +Almost all the birds, the only really free things in this country +now, move, even those that do not quit the island; and why not the +deer in the old time when all the woods were open to them? England +is not a large country, but there are considerable differences in +the climate and the time at which vegetation appears, quite +sufficient of themselves to induce animals to move from place to +place. We have no narrowing buffalo zone to lament, for our buffalo +zone disappeared long ago. These parks and woods are islets of the +olden time, dotted here and there in the midst of the most modern +agricultural scenery. These deer and their ancestors have been +confined within the pale for hundreds of years, and though in a +sense free, they are in no sense wild. But the old power remains +still. See the buck as he starts away, and jumps at every leap as +high as the fern. He would give the hounds a long chase yet.</p> +<p>The fern is fully four feet tall, hiding a boy entirely, and +only showing a man's head. The deer do not go through it unless +startled; they prefer to follow a track already made, one of their +own trails. It is their natural cover, and when the buckhounds meet +near London the buck often takes refuge in one or other of the +fern-grown commons of which there are many on the southern side. +But fern is inimical to grass, and, while it gives them cover, +occupies the place of much more pleasant herbage. As their range is +limited, though they have here a forest of some extent as well as +the park to roam over, they cannot always obtain enough in winter. +In frost, when the grass will not grow, or when snow is on the +ground, that which they can find is supplemented with hay. They +are, in fact, foddered exactly the same as cattle. In some of the +smaller parks they are driven into inclosures and fed altogether. +This is not the case here. Perhaps it was through the foggers, as +the labourers are called who fodder cattle and carry out the hay in +the morning and evening, that deer poachers of old discovered that +they could approach the deer by carrying a bundle of sweet-smelling +hay, which overcame the scent of the body and baffled the buck's +keen nostrils till the thief was within shot. The foggers, being +about so very early in the morning,—they are out at the +dawn,—have found out a good many game secrets in their time. +If the deer were outside the forest at any hour it was sure to be +when the dew was on the grass, and thus they noticed that with the +hay truss on their heads they could walk up quite close +occasionally. Foggers know all the game on the places where they +work; there is not a hare or a rabbit, a pheasant or a partridge, +whose ways are not plain to them. There are no stories now of stags +a century old (three would go back to Queen Elizabeth); they have +gone, like other traditions of the forest, before steam and +breechloader. Deer lore is all but extinct, the terms of venery +known but to a few; few, indeed, could correctly name the parts of +a buck if one were sent them. The deer are a picture only—a +picture that lives and moves and is beautiful to look at, but must +not be rudely handled. Still, they linger while the marten has +disappeared, the polecat is practically gone, and the badger +becoming rare. It is curious that the badger has lived on through +sufferance for three centuries. Nearly three centuries ago, a +chronicler observed that the badger would have been rooted out +before his time had it not been for the parks. There was no great +store of badgers then; there is no great store now. Sketches remain +in old country-houses of the chase of the marten; you see the +hounds all yelping round the foot of a tree, the marten up in it, +and in the middle of the hounds the huntsman in top-boots and +breeches. You can but smile at it. To Americans it must forcibly +recall the treeing of a 'coon. The deer need keep no watch, there +are no wolves to pull them down; and it is quite probable that the +absence of any danger of that kind is the reason of their tameness +even more than the fact that they are not chased by man. Nothing +comes creeping stealthily through the fern, or hunts them through +the night. They can slumber in peace. There is no larger beast of +prey than a stoat, or a stray cat. But they retain their dislike of +dogs, a dislike shared by cattle, as if they too dimly remembered a +time when they had been hunted. The list of animals still living +within the pale and still wild is short indeed. Besides the deer, +which are not wild, there are hares, rabbits, squirrels, two kinds +of rat,—the land and the water rat,—stoat, weasel, +mole, and mouse. There are more varieties of mouse than of any +other animal: these, the weakest of all, have escaped best, though +exposed to so many enemies. A few foxes, and still fewer badgers, +complete the list, for there are no other animals here. Modern +times are fatal to all creatures of prey, whether furred or +feathered; and so even the owls are less numerous, both in actual +numbers and in variety of species, than they were even fifty years +ago.</p> +<p>But the forest is not vacant. It is indeed full of happy life. +Every hollow tree—and there are many hollow trees where none +are felled—has its nest of starlings, or titmice, or +woodpeckers. Woodpeckers are numerous, and amusing to watch. +Wood-pigeons and turtle-doves abound, the former in hundreds +nesting here. Rooks, of course, and jackdaws,—daws love +hollow trees,—jays, and some magpies. The magpie is one of +the birds which have partly disappeared from the fields of England. +There are broad lands where not one is to be seen. Once looking +from the road at two in a field, a gentleman who was riding by +stopped his horse and asked, quite interested, 'Are those magpies?' +I replied that they were. 'I have not seen any since I was a boy +till now,' he said. Magpies are still plentiful in some places, as +in old parks in Somersetshire, but they have greatly diminished in +the majority of instances. There are some here, and many jays. +These are handsome birds, and with the green woodpeckers give +colour to the trees. Night-jars or fern-owls fly round the +outskirts and through the open glades in the summer twilight. These +are some of the forest birds. The rest visit the forest or live in +it, but are equally common to hedgerow and copse. Woodpeckers, +jays, magpies, owls, night-jars, are all distinctly forest and park +birds, and are continually with the deer. The lesser birds are the +happier that there are fewer hawks and crows. The deer are not torn +with the cruel tooth of hound or wolf, nor does the sharp arrow +sting them. It is a little piece of olden England without its +terror and bloodshed.</p> +<p>The fawns fed away down the slope and presently into one of the +broad green open paths or drives, where the underwood on each side +is lined with bramble and with trailing white rose, which loves to +cling to bushes scarcely higher than itself. Their runners stretch +out at the edges of the drive, so that from the underwood the mound +of green falls aslant to the sward. This gradual descent from the +trees and ash to the bushes of hawthorn, from the hawthorn to the +bramble, thence to the rose and the grass, gives to the vista of +the broad path a soft, graceful aspect.</p> +<p>After the fawns had disappeared, the squire went on and entered +under the beeches from which they had emerged. He had not gone far +before he struck and followed a path which wound between the beech +trunks and was entirely arched over by their branches. Squirrels +raced away at the sound of his footsteps, darting over the ground +and up the stems of the trees in an instant. A slight rustling now +and then showed that a rabbit had been startled. Pheasants ran too, +but noiselessly, and pigeons rose from the boughs above. The +wood-pigeons rose indeed, but they were not much frightened, and +quickly settled again. So little shot at, they felt safe, and only +moved from habit.</p> +<p>He crossed several paths leading in various directions, but went +on, gradually descending till the gable end of a farmhouse became +visible through the foliage. The old red tiles were but a few yards +distant from the boughs of the last beech, and there was nothing +between the house and the forest but a shallow trench almost filled +with dead brown leaves and edged with fern. Out from that trench, +sometimes stealthily slipping between the flattened fern-stalks, +came a weasel, and, running through the plantains and fringe-like +mayweed or stray pimpernel which covered the neglected ground, made +for the straw-rick. Searching about for mice, he was certain to +come across a hen's egg in some corner, perhaps in a hay-crib, +which the cattle, now being in the meadow, did not use. Or a +stronger stoat crept out and attacked anything that he fancied. +Very often there was a rabbit sitting in the long grass which grows +round under an old hay-rick. He would sit still and let anyone pass +who did not know of his presence, but those who were aware used to +give the grass a kick if they went that way, when he would carry +his white tail swiftly round the corner of the rick. In winter +hares came nibbling at everything in the garden, and occasionally +in summer, if they fancied an herb: they would have spoiled it +altogether if free to stay there without fear of some one suddenly +appearing.</p> +<p>Dogs there were in plenty, but all chained, except a few mere +puppies which practically lived indoors. It was not safe to have +them loose so near the wood, the temptation to wander being so very +strong. So that, though there was a continual barking and long, +mournful whines for liberty, the wild creatures came in time to +understand that there was little danger, and the rabbit actually +sat under the hay-rick.</p> +<p>Pheasants mingled with the fowls, and, like the fowls, only ran +aside out of the way of people. In early summer there were tiny +partridge chicks about, which rushed under the coop. The pheasants +sometimes came down to the kitchen door, so greedy were they. With +the dogs and ponies, the pheasants and rabbits, the weasels and the +stoats, and the ferrets in their hutches, the place seemed really +to belong more to the animals than to the tenant.</p> +<p>The forest strayed indoors. Bucks' horns, feathers picked up, +strange birds shot and stuffed, fossils from the sand-pits, coins +and pottery from the line of the ancient Roman road, all the odds +and ends of the forest, were scattered about within. To the yard +came the cows, which, with bells about their necks, wandered into +the fern, and the swine, which searched and rooted about for acorns +and beech-mast in autumn. The men who dug in the sand-pits or for +gravel came this way in and out to their labour, and so did those +who split up the fallen trunks into logs. Now and then a woodpecker +came with a rush up from the meadows, where he had been visiting +the hedgerows, and went into the forest with a yell as he entered +the trees. The deer fed up to the precincts, and at intervals a +buck at the dawn got into the garden. But the flies from the forest +teased and terrified the horses, which would have run away with the +heavily loaded waggon behind them if not protected with fine +netting as if in armour. They did run away sometimes at harrow, +tearing across the field like mad things. You could not keep the +birds out of the garden, try how you would. They had most of the +sowings up. The blackbirds pecked every apple in the orchard. How +the dead leaves in autumn came whirling in thousands through +rick-yard and court in showers upon the tiles! Nor was it of much +avail to sweep them away; they were there again to-morrow, and +until the wind changed. The swallows were now very busy building; +there were not many houses for them, and therefore they flocked +here. Up from over the meadows came the breeze, drawing into the +hollow recesses of the forest behind. It came over the grass and +farther away over corn just yellowing, the shadows of the clouds +racing with it and instantly lost in the trees. It drew through the +pillars of the forest, and away to the hills beyond.</p> +<p>The squire's ale was duly put for him, the particular gossip he +liked was ready for him; and having taken both, he looked at his +old watch and went on. His path now led for a while just inside the +pale, which here divided the forest from the meadows. In the olden +time it would have been made of oak, for they built all things then +with an eye to endurance; but it was now of fir, pitched, sawn from +firs thrown in the copses. For the purpose of keeping the deer in, +it was as useful as the pale of oak. Oak is not so plentiful +nowadays. The high spars were the especial vaunting-places of the +little brown wrens which perched there and sang, in defiance of all +that the forest might hold. Rabbits crept under, but the hares +waited till evening and went round by the gates. Presently the path +turned and the squire passed a pond partly dried up, from the +margin of which several pigeons rose up, clattering their wings. +They are fond of the neighbourhood of water, and are sure to be +there some time during the day. The path went upwards, but the +ascent was scarcely perceptible through hazel bushes, which became +farther apart and thinner as the elevation increased, and the soil +was less rich. Some hawthorn bushes succeeded, and from among these +he stepped out into the open park. Nothing could be seen of the +manor-house here. It was hidden by the roll of the ground and the +groups of trees. The close sward was already a little +brown—the trampling of hoofs as well as the heat causes the +brownish hue of fed sward, as if it were bruised. He went out into +the park, bearing somewhat to the right and passing many hawthorns, +round the trunks of which the grass was cut away in a ring by the +hoofs of animals seeking shadow. Far away on a rising knoll a herd +of deer were lying under some elms. In front were the downs, a mile +or so distant; to the right, meadows and cornfields, towards which +he went. There was no house nor any habitation in view; in the +early part of the year, the lambing-time, there was a shepherd's +hut on wheels in the fields, but it had been drawn away.</p> +<p>According to tradition, there is no forest in England in which a +king has not hunted. A king, they say, hunted here in the old days +of the cross-bow; but happily the place escaped notice in that +artificial era when half the parks and woods were spoiled to make +the engraver's ideal landscape of straight vistas, broad in the +foreground and narrowing up to nothing. Wide, straight +roads—you can call them nothing else—were cut through +the finest woods, so that upon looking from a certain window, or +standing at a certain spot in the grounds, you might see a church +tower at the end of the cutting, In some parks there are half a +dozen such horrors shown to you as a great curiosity; some have a +monument or pillar at the end. These hideous disfigurements of +beautiful scenery should surely be wiped out in our day. The stiff, +straight cutting could soon be filled up by planting, and after a +time the woods would resume their natural condition. Many common +highway roads are really delightful, winding through trees and +hedgerows, with glimpses of hills and distant villages. But these +planned, straight vistas, radiating from a central spot as if done +with ruler and pen, at once destroy the pleasant illusion of +primeval forest. You may be dreaming under the oaks of the chase or +of Rosalind: the moment you enter such a vista all becomes +commonplace. Happily this park escaped, and it is beautiful. Our +English landscape wants no gardening: it <i>cannot</i> be gardened. +The least interference kills it. The beauty of English woodland and +country is in its detail. There is nothing empty and unclothed. If +the clods are left a little while undisturbed in the fields, weeds +spring up and wild-flowers bloom upon them. Is the hedge cut and +trimmed, lo! the bluebells flower the more and a yet fresher green +buds forth upon the twigs. Never was there a garden like the +meadow: there is not an inch of the meadow in early summer without +a flower. Old walls, as we saw just now, are not left without a +fringe; on the top of the hardest brick wall, on the sapless tiles, +on slates, stonecrop takes hold and becomes a cushion of yellow +bloom. Nature is a miniature painter and handles a delicate brush, +the tip of which touches the tiniest spot and leaves something +living. The park has indeed its larger lines, its broad open sweep, +and gradual slope, to which the eye accustomed to small inclosures +requires time to adjust itself. These left to themselves are +beautiful; they are the surface of the earth, which is always true +to itself and needs no banks nor artificial hollows. The earth is +right and the tree is right: trim either and all is wrong. The deer +will not fit to them then.</p> +<p>The squire came near enough to the corn-field to see that the +wheat-ears were beginning to turn yellow and that the barley had +the silky appearance caused by the beard, the delicate lines of +which divide the light and reflect it like gossamer. At some +distance a man was approaching; he saw him, and sat down on the +grass under an oak to await the coming of Ettles the keeper. Ettles +had been his rounds and had visited the outlying copses, which are +the especial haunts of pheasants. Like the deer, pheasants, if they +can, will get away from the main wood. He was now returning, and +the squire, well knowing that he would pass this way, had purposely +crossed his path to meet him. The dogs ran to the squire and at +once made friends with him. Ettles, whose cheek was the colour of +the oak-apples in spring, was more respectful: he stood till the +squire motioned him to sit down. The dogs rolled on the sward, but, +though in the shadow, they could not extend themselves sufficiently +nor pant fast enough. Yonder the breeze that came up over the +forest on its way to the downs blew through the group of trees on +the knoll, cooling the deer as it passed.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="28">MY OLD VILLAGE.</a></h3> +<p>'John Brown is dead,' said an aged friend and visitor in answer +to my inquiry for the strong labourer.</p> +<p>'Is he really dead?' I asked, for it seemed impossible.</p> +<p>'He is. He came home from his work in the evening as usual, and +seemed to catch his foot in the threshold and fell forward on the +floor. When they picked him up he was dead.'</p> +<p>I remember the doorway; a raised piece of wood ran across it, as +is commonly the case in country cottages, such as one might easily +catch one's foot against if one did not notice it; but he knew that +bit of wood well. The floor was of brick, hard to fall on and die. +He must have come down over the crown of the hill, with his long +slouching stride, as if his legs had been half pulled away from his +body by his heavy boots in the furrows when a ploughboy. He must +have turned up the steps in the bank to his cottage, and so, +touching the threshold, ended. He is gone through the great +doorway, and one pencil-mark is rubbed out. There used to be a +large hearth in that room, a larger room than in most cottages; and +when the fire was lit, and the light shone on the yellowish red +brick beneath and the large rafters overhead, it was homely and +pleasant. In summer the door was always wide open. Close by on the +high bank there was a spot where the first wild violets came. You +might look along miles of hedgerow, but there were never any until +they had shown by John Brown's.</p> +<p>If a man's work that he has done all the days of his life could +be collected and piled up around him in visible shape, what a vast +mound there would be beside some! If each act or stroke was +represented, say by a brick, John Brown would have stood the day +before his ending by the side of a monument as high as a pyramid. +Then if in front of him could be placed the sum and product of his +labour, the profit to himself, he could have held it in his +clenched hand like a nut, and no one would have seen it. Our modern +people think they train their sons to strength by football and +rowing and jumping, and what are called athletic exercises; all of +which it is the fashion now to preach as very noble, and likely to +lead to the goodness of the race. Certainly feats are accomplished +and records are beaten, but there is no real strength gained, no +hardihood built up. Without hardihood it is of little avail to be +able to jump an inch farther than somebody else. Hardihood is the +true test, hardihood is the ideal, and not these caperings or ten +minutes' spurts.</p> +<p>Now, the way they made the boy John Brown hardy was to let him +roll about on the ground with naked legs and bare head from morn +till night, from June till December, from January till June. The +rain fell on his head, and he played in wet grass to his knees. Dry +bread and a little lard was his chief food. He went to work while +he was still a child. At half-past three in the morning he was on +his way to the farm stables, there to help feed the cart-horses, +which used to be done with great care very early in the morning. +The carter's whip used to sting his legs, and sometimes he felt the +butt. At fifteen he was no taller than the sons of well-to-do +people at eleven; he scarcely seemed to grow at all till he was +eighteen or twenty, and even then very slowly, but at last became a +tall big man. That slouching walk, with knees always bent, +diminished his height to appearance; he really was the full size, +and every inch of his frame had been slowly welded together by this +ceaseless work, continual life in the open air, and coarse hard +food. This is what makes a man hardy. This is what makes a man able +to stand almost anything, and gives a power of endurance that can +never be obtained by any amount of gymnastic training.</p> +<p>I used to watch him mowing with amazement. Sometimes he would +begin at half-past two in the morning, and continue till night. +About eleven o'clock, which used to be the mowers' noon, he took a +rest on a couch of half-dried grass in the shade of the hedge. For +the rest, it was mow, mow, mow for the long summer day.</p> +<p>John Brown was dead: died in an instant at his cottage door. I +could hardly credit it, so vivid was the memory of his strength. +The gap of time since I had seen him last had made no impression on +me; to me he was still in my mind the John Brown of the hayfield; +there was nothing between then and his death.</p> +<p>He used to catch us boys the bats in the stable, and tell us +fearful tales of the ghosts he had seen; and bring the bread from +the town in an old-fashioned wallet, half in front and half behind, +long before the bakers' carts began to come round in country +places. One evening he came into the dairy carrying a yoke of milk, +staggering, with tipsy gravity; he was quite sure he did not want +any assistance, he could pour the milk into the pans. He tried, and +fell at full length and bathed himself from head to foot. Of later +days they say he worked in the town a good deal, and did not look +so well or so happy as on the farm. In this cottage opposite the +violet bank they had small-pox once, the only case I recollect in +the hamlet—the old men used to say everybody had it when they +were young; this was the only case in my time, and they recovered +quickly without any loss, nor did the disease spread. A roomy +well-built cottage like that, on dry ground, isolated, is the only +hospital worthy of the name. People have a chance to get well in +such places; they have very great difficulty in the huge buildings +that are put up expressly for them. I have a Convalescent Home in +my mind at the moment, a vast building. In these great blocks what +they call ventilation is a steady draught, and there is no 'home' +about it. It is all walls and regulations and draughts, and +altogether miserable. I would infinitely rather see any friend of +mine in John Brown's cottage. That terrible disease, however, +seemed to quite spoil the violet bank opposite, and I never picked +one there afterwards. There is something in disease so destructive, +as it were, to flowers.</p> +<p>The hundreds of times I saw the tall chimney of that cottage +rise out of the hill-side as I came home at all hours of the day +and night! the first chimney after a long journey, always +comfortable to see, especially so in earlier days, when we had a +kind of halting belief in John Brown's ghosts, several of which +were dotted along that road according to him. The ghosts die as we +grow older, they die and their places are taken by real ghosts. I +wish I had sent John Brown a pound or two when I was in good +health; but one is selfish then, and puts off things till it is too +late—a lame excuse verily. I can scarcely believe now that he +is really dead, gone as you might casually pluck a hawthorn leaf +from the hedge.</p> +<p>The next cottage was a very marked one, for houses grow to their +owners. The low thatched roof had rounded itself and stooped down +to fit itself to Job's shoulders; the walls had got short and thick +to suit him, and they had a yellowish colour, like his complexion, +as if chewing tobacco had stained his cheeks right through. Tobacco +juice had likewise penetrated and tinted the wall. It was cut off +as it seemed by a party-wall into one room, instead of which there +were more rooms beyond which no one would have suspected. Job had a +way of shaking hands with you with his right hand, while his left +hand was casually doing something else in a detached sort of way. +'Yes, sir,' and 'No, sir,' and nodding to everything you said all +so complaisant, but at the end of the bargain you generally found +yourself a few shillings in some roundabout manner on the wrong +side. Job had a lot of shut-up rooms in his house and in his +character, which never seemed to be opened to daylight. The eaves +hung over and beetled like his brows, and he had a forelock, a +regular antique forelock, which he used to touch with the greatest +humility. There was a long bough of an elm hanging over one gable +just like the forelock. His face was a blank, like the broad end +wall of the cottage, which had no window—at least you might +think so until you looked up and discovered one little arrow slit, +one narrow pane, and woke with a start to the idea that Job was +always up there watching and listening. That was how he looked out +of his one eye so intensely cunning, the other being a wall +eye—that is, the world supposed so, as he kept it half shut, +always between the lights; but whether it was really blind or not I +cannot say. Job caught rats and rabbits and moles, and bought +fagots or potatoes, or fruit or rabbit-skins, or rusty iron: +wonderful how he seemed to have command of money. It was done +probably by buying and selling almost simultaneously, so that the +cash passed really from one customer to another, and was never his +at all. Also he worked as a labourer, chiefly piecework; also Mrs. +Job had a shop window about two feet square: snuff and tobacco, +bread and cheese, immense big round jumbles and sugar, kept on the +floor above, and reached down by hand, when wanted, through the +opening for the ladder stairs. The front door—Job's right +hand—was always open in summer, and the flagstones of the +floor chalked round their edges; a clean table, clean chairs, +decent crockery, an old clock about an hour slow, a large hearth +with a minute fire to boil the kettle without heating the room. Tea +was usually at half-past three, and it is a fact that many +well-to-do persons, as they came along the road hot and dusty, used +to drop in and rest and take a cup—very little milk and much +gossip. Two paths met just there, and people used to step in out of +a storm of rain, a sort of thatched house club. Job was somehow on +fair terms with nearly everybody, and that is a wonderful thing in +a village, where everybody knows everybody's business, and petty +interests continually cross. The strangest fellow and the strangest +way of life, and yet I do not believe a black mark was ever put +against him; the shiftiness was all for nothing. It arose, no +doubt, out of the constant and eager straining to gain a little +advantage and make an extra penny. Had Job been a Jew he would have +been rich. He was the exact counterpart of the London Jew dealer, +set down in the midst of the country. Job should have been rich. +Such immense dark brown jumbles, such cheek-distenders—never +any French sweetmeats or chocolate or bonbons to equal these. I +really think I could eat one now. The pennies and fourpenny +bits—there were fourpenny bits in those days—that went +behind that two-foot window, goodness! there was no end. Job used +to chink them in a pint pot sometimes before the company, to give +them an idea of his great hoards. He always tried to impress people +with his wealth, and would talk of a fifty-pound contract as if it +was nothing to him. Jumbles are eternal, if nothing else is. I +thought then there was not such another shop as Job's in the +universe. I have found since that there is a Job shop in every +village, and in every street in every town—that is to say, a +window for jumbles and rubbish; and if you don't know it, you may +be quite sure your children do, and spend many a sly penny there. +Be as rich as you may, and give them gilded sweetmeats at home, +still they will slip round to the Job shop.</p> +<p>It was a pretty cottage, well backed with trees and bushes, with +a south-east mixture of sunlight and shade, and little touches that +cannot be suggested by writing. Job had not got the Semitic +instinct of keeping. The art of acquisition he possessed to some +extent, that was his right hand; but somehow the half-crowns +slipped away through his unstable left hand, and fortune was a +greasy pole to him. His left hand was too cunning for him, it +wanted to manage things too cleverly. If it had only had the +Semitic grip, digging the nails into the flesh to hold tight each +separate coin, he would have been village rich. The great secret is +the keeping. Finding is by no means keeping. Job did not flourish +in his old days; the people changed round about. Job is gone, and I +think every one of that cottage is either dead or moved. Empty.</p> +<p>The next cottage was the water-bailiffs, who looked after the +great pond or 'broad'. There were one or two old boats, and he used +to leave the oars leaning against a wall at the side of the house. +These oars looked like fragments of a wreck, broken and irregular. +The right-hand scull was heavy, as if made of ironwood, the blade +broad and spoon-shaped, so as to have a most powerful grip of the +water. The left-hand scull was light and slender, with a narrow +blade like a marrow scoop; so when you had the punt, you had to +pull very hard with your left hand and gently with the right to get +the forces equal. The punt had a list of its own, and no matter how +you roved, it would still make leeway. Those who did not know its +character were perpetually trying to get this crooked wake +straight, and consequently went round and round exactly like the +whirligig beetle. Those who knew used to let the leeway proceed a +good way and then alter it, so as to act in the other direction +like an elongated zigzag. These sculls the old fellow would bring +you as if they were great treasures, and watch you off in the punt +as if he was parting with his dearest. At that date it was no +little matter to coax him round to unchain his vessel. You had to +take an interest in the garden, in the baits, and the weather, and +be very humble; then perhaps he would tell you he did not want it +for the trimmers, or the withy, or the flags, and you might have it +for an hour as far as he could see; 'did not think my lord's +steward would come over that morning; of course, if he did you must +come in,' and so on; and if the stars were propitious, by-and-by +the punt was got afloat. These sculls were tilted up against the +wall, and as you innocently went to take one, Wauw!—a dirty +little ill-tempered mongrel poodle rolled himself like a ball to +your heels and snapped his teeth—Wauw! At the bark, out +rushed the old lady, his housekeeper, shouting in the shrillest key +to the dog to lie still, and to you that the bailiff would be there +in a minute. At the sound of her shrewish 'yang-yang' down came the +old man from the bank, and so one dog fetched out the lot. The +three were exactly alike somehow. Beside these diamond sculls he +had a big gun, with which he used to shoot the kingfishers that +came for the little fish; the number he slaughtered was very great; +he persecuted them as Domitian did the flies: he declared that a +kingfisher would carry off a fish heavier than itself. Also he shot +rooks, once now and then strange wild fowl with this monstrous iron +pipe, and something happened with this gun one evening which was +witnessed, and after that the old fellow was very benevolent, and +the punt was free to one or two who knew all about it. There is an +old story about the stick that would not beat the dog, and the dog +would not bite the pig, and so on; and so I am quite sure that +ill-natured cur could never have lived with that 'yang-yang' shrew, +nor could any one else but he have turned the gear of the hatch, +nor have endured the dog and the woman, and the constant miasma +from the stagnant waters. No one else could have shot anything with +that cumbrous weapon, and no one else could row that punt straight. +He used to row it quite straight, to the amazement of a wondering +world, and somehow supplied the motive force—the +stick—which kept all these things going. He is gone, and, I +think, the housekeeper too, and the house has had several occupants +since, who have stamped down the old ghosts and thrust them out of +doors.</p> +<p>After this the cottages and houses came in little groups, some +up crooked lanes, hidden away by elms as if out of sight in a +cupboard, and some dotted along the brooks, scattered so that, +unless you had connected them all with a very long rope, no +stranger could have told which belonged to the village and which +did not. They drifted into various tithings, and yet it was all the +same place. They were all thatched. It was a thatched village. This +is strictly accurate and strictly inaccurate, for I think there +were one or two tiled and one 'slated,' and perhaps a modern one +slated. Nothing is ever quite rigid or complete that is of man; all +rules have a chip in them. The way they builded the older thatched +farmhouses as to put up a very high wall in front and a very low +one behind, and then the roof in a general way sloped down from the +high wall to the low wall, an acre broad of thatch. These old +thatched houses seemed to be very healthy so long as the old folk +lived in them in the old-fashioned way. Thatch is believed to give +an equable temperature. The air blew all round them, and it might +be said all through them; for the front door was always open three +parts of the year, and at the back the dairies were in a continual +blow. Upstairs the houses were only one room thick, so that each +wall was an outside wall, or rather it was a wall one side and +thatched the other, so that the wind went through if a window as +open. Modern houses are often built two rooms thick, so that the +air does not circulate from one side to the other. No one seemed to +be ill, unless he brought it home with him from some place where he +had been visiting. The diseases they used to have were long-lived, +such as rheumatism, which may keep a man comfortably in aches and +pains forty years. My dear old friend, however, taking them one by +one, went through the lot and told me of the ghosts. The +forefathers I knew are all gone—the stout man, the lame man, +the paralysed man, the gruff old stick: not one left. There is not +one left of the old farmers, not a single one. The fathers, too, of +our own generation have been dropping away. The strong young man +who used to fill us with such astonishment at the feats he would +achieve without a thought, no gymnastic training, to whom a sack of +wheat was a toy. The strong young man went one day into the +harvest-field, as he had done so many times before. Suddenly he +felt a little dizzy. By-and-by he went home and became very ill +with sunstroke; he recovered, but he was never strong again; he +gradually declined for twelve months, and next harvest-time he was +under the daisies. Just one little touch of the sun, and the +strength of man faded as a leaf. The hardy dark young man, built of +iron, broad, thick, and short, who looked as if frost, snow, and +heat were all the same to him, had something go wrong in his lung: +one twelvemonth, and there was an end. This was a very unhappy +affair. The pickaxe and the spade have made almost a full round to +every door; I do not want to think any more about this. Family +changes and the pressure of these hard times have driven out most +of the rest; some seem to have quite gone out of sight; some have +crossed the sea; some have abandoned the land as a livelihood. Of +the few, the very few that still remain, still fewer abide in their +original homes. Time has shuffled them about from house to house +like a pack of cards. Of them all, I verily believe there is but +one soul living in the same old house. If the French had landed in +the mediæval way to harry with fire and sword, they could not +have swept the place more clean.</p> +<p>Almost the first thing I did with pen and ink as a boy was to +draw a map of the hamlet with the roads and lanes and paths, and I +think some of the ponds, and with each of the houses marked and the +occupier's name. Of course it was very roughly done, and not to any +scale, yet it was perfectly accurate and full of detail. I wish I +could find it, but the confusion of time has scattered and mixed +these early papers. A map by Ptolemy would bear as much resemblance +to the same country in a modern atlas as mine to the present state +of that locality. It is all gone—rubbed out. The names +against the whole of those houses have been altered, one only +excepted, and changes have taken place there. Nothing remains. This +is not in a century, half a century, or even in a quarter of a +century, but in a few ticks of the clock.</p> +<p>I think I have heard that the oaks are down. They may be +standing or down, it matters nothing to me; the leaves I last saw +upon them are gone for evermore, nor shall I ever see them come +there again ruddy in spring. I would not see them again even if I +could; they could never look again as they used to do. There are +too many memories there. The happiest days become the saddest +afterwards; let us never go back, lest we too die. There are no +such oaks anywhere else, none so tall and straight, and with such +massive heads, on which the sun used to shine as if on the globe of +the earth, one side in shadow, the other in bright light. How often +I have looked at oaks since, and yet have never been able to get +the same effect from them! Like an old author printed in another +type, the words are the same, but the sentiment is different. The +brooks have ceased to run. There is no music now at the old hatch +where we used to sit in danger of our lives, happy as kings, on the +narrow bar over the deep water. The barred pike that used to come +up in such numbers are no more among the flags. The perch used to +drift down the stream, and then bring up again. The sun shone there +for a very long time, and the water rippled and sang, and it always +seemed to me that I could feel the rippling and the singing and the +sparkling back through the centuries. The brook is dead, for when +man goes nature ends. I dare say there is water there still, but it +is not the brook; the brook is gone like John Brown's soul. There +used to be clouds over the fields, white clouds in blue summer +skies. I have lived a good deal on clouds; they have been meat to +me often; they bring something to the spirit which even the trees +do not. I see clouds now sometimes when the iron grip of hell +permits for a minute or two; they are very different clouds, and +speak differently. I long for some of the old clouds that had no +memories. There were nights in those times over those fields, not +darkness, but Night, full of glowing suns and glowing richness of +life that sprang up to meet them. The nights are there still; they +are everywhere, nothing local in the night; but it is not the Night +to me seen through the window.</p> +<p>There used to be footpaths. Following one of them, the first +field always had a good crop of grass; over the next stile there +was a great oak standing alone in the centre of the field, +generally a great cart-horse under it, and a few rushes scattered +about the furrows; the fourth was always full of the finest clover; +in the fifth you could scent the beans on the hill, and there was a +hedge like a wood, and a nest of the long-tailed tit; the sixth had +a runnel and blue forget-me-nots; the seventh had a brooklet and +scattered trees along it; from the eighth you looked back on the +slope and saw the thatched houses you had left behind under passing +shadows, and rounded white clouds going straight for the distant +hills, each cloud visibly bulging and bowed down like a bag. I +cannot think how the distant thatched houses came to stand out with +such clear definition and etched outline and bluish shadows; and +beyond these was the uncertain vale that had no individuality, but +the trees put their arms together and became one. All these were +meadows, every step was among grass, beautiful grass, and the +cuckoos sang as if they had found paradise. A hundred years ago a +little old man with silver buckles on his shoes used to walk along +this footpath once a week in summer, taking his children over to +drink milk at the farm; but though he set them every time to note +the number of fields, so busy were they with the nests and the +flowers, they could never be sure at the end of the journey whether +there were eight or nine. To make quite sure at last, he took with +them a pocket full of apples, one of which was eaten in each field, +and so they came to know for certain that the number of meadows was +either eight or nine, I forget which; and so you see this great +experiment did not fix the faith of mankind. Like other great +truths, it has grown dim, but it seems strange to think how this +little incident could have been borne in mind for a century. There +was another footpath that led through the peewit field, where the +green plovers for evermore circle round in spring; then past the +nightingale field, by the largest maple trees that grew in that +country; this too was all grass. Another led along the water to +bluebell land; another into the coombs of the hills; all meadows, +which was the beauty of it; for though you could find wheat in +plenty if you liked, you always walked in grass. All round the +compass you could still step on sward. This is rare. Of one other +path I have a faded memory, like a silk marker in an old book; in +truth, I don't want to remember it except the end of it where it +came down to the railway. So full was the mind of romance in those +days, that I used to get there specially in time to see the express +go up, the magnificent engine of the broad gauge that swept along +with such case and power to London. I wish I could feel like that +now. The feeling is not quite gone even now, and I have often since +seen these great broad-gauge creatures moving alive to and fro like +Ezekiel's wheel dream beside the platforms of Babylon with much of +the same old delight. Still I never went back with them to the +faded footpath. They are all faded now, these footpaths.</p> +<p>The walnut trees are dead at home. They gave such a thick shade +when the fruit was juicy ripe, and the hoods cracked as they fell; +they peeled as easy as taking off a glove; the sweetest and +nuttiest of fruit. It was delicious to sit there with a great +volume of Sir Walter Scott, half in sunshine, half in shade, +dreaming of 'Kenilworth' and Wayland Smith's cave; only the +difficulty was to balance the luxuries, when to peel the walnuts +and when to read the book, and how to adjust oneself to perfection +so as to get the exact amount of sunshine and shadow. Too much +luxury. There was a story, too, told by one Abu-Kaka ibn Ja'is, of +the caravan that set forth in 1483 to cross the desert, and being +overwhelmed by a sandstorm, lost their way. They wandered for some +time till hunger and thirst began to consume them, and then +suddenly lit on an oasis unknown to the oldest merchant of Bagdad. +There they found refreshing waters and palms and a caravanserai; +and, what was most pleasant, the people at the bazaar and the +prince hastened to fill them with hospitality; sheep were killed, +and kids were roasted, and all was joy. They were not permitted to +depart till they had feasted, when they set out again on their +journey, and each at leaving was presented with strings of pearls +and bags of rubies, so that at last they came home with all the +magnificence of kings. They found, however, that instead of having +been absent only a month or two they had been gone twenty years, so +swiftly had time sped. As they grew old, and their beards grey, and +their frames withered, and the pearls were gone, and the rubies +spent, they said, 'We will go back to the city of the oasis.' They +set out, each on his camel, one lame, the other paralytic, and the +third blind, but still the way was plain, for had they not trodden +it before? and they had with them the astrolabe of the astronomer +that fixes the track by the stars. Time wore on, and presently the +camels' feet brought them nearer and nearer the wished-for spot. +One saw the water, and another the palms, but when they came near, +it was the mirage, and deep sand covered the place. Then they +separated, and each hastened home; but the blind had no leader, and +the lame fell from his camel, and the paralytic had no more dates, +and their whited bones have disappeared.[<a href= +"#foot">footnote</a>] Many another tale, too, I read under the +trees that are gone like human beings. Sometimes I went forth to +the nooks in the deep meadows by the hazel mounds, and sometimes I +parted the ash-tree wands. In my waist-coat pocket I had a little +red book, made square; I never read it out of doors, but I always +carried it in my pocket till it was frayed and the binding broken; +the smallest of red books, but very much therein—the poems +and sonnets of Mr. William Shakespeare. Some books are alive. The +book I have still, it cannot die: the ash copses are cut, and the +hazel mounds destroyed.</p> +<p>Was every one, then, so pleasant to me in those days? were the +people all so beneficent and kindly that I must needs look back; +all welcoming with open hand and open door? No, the reverse; there +was not a single one friendly to me. Still that has nothing to do +with it; I never thought about them, and I am quite certain they +never thought about me. They are all gone, and there is an end. +Incompatibility would describe our connection best. Nothing to do +with them at all; it was me. I planted myself every where—in +all the fields and under all the trees. The curious part of it is +that though they are all dead, and 'worms have eaten them, but not +for love,' we continually meet them in other shapes. We say, +'Holloa, here is old So-and-so coming; that is exactly his jaw, +that's his Flemish face;' or, 'By Jove, yonder is So-and-so; that's +his very walk:' one almost expects them to speak as one meets them +in the street. There seem to be certain set types which continually +crop up again whithersoever you go, and even certain tricks of +speech and curves of the head—a set of family portraits +walking about the world. It was not the people, neither for good, +for evil, nor indifference.</p> +<p>I planted myself every here under the trees in the fields and +footpaths, by day and by night, and that is why I have never put +myself into the charge of the many wheeled creatures that move on +the rails and gone back thither, lest I might find the trees look +small, and the elms mere switches, and the fields shrunken, and the +brooks dry, and no voice anywhere. Nothing but my own ghost to meet +me by every hedge. I fear lest I should find myself more dead than +all the rest And verily I wish, could it be without injury to +others, that the sand of the desert would rise and roll over and +obliterate the place for ever and ever.</p> +<p>I need not wish, for I have been conversing again with learned +folk about this place, and they begin to draw my view to certain +considerations. These very learned men point out to me a number of +objections, for the question they sceptically put is this: are you +quite certain that such a village ever existed? In the first place, +they say, you have only got one other witness beside yourself, and +she is aged, and has defective sight; and really we don't know what +to say to accepting such evidence unsupported. Secondly, John Brown +cannot be found to bear testimony. Thirdly, there are no ghosts +there; that can be demonstrated. It renders a case unsubstantial to +introduce these flimsy spirits. Fourthly, the map is lost, and it +might be asked was there ever such a map? Fifthly, the people are +all gone. Sixthly, no one ever saw any particular sparkle on the +brook there, and the clouds appear to be of the same commonplace +order that go about everywhere. Seventhly, no one can find these +footpaths, which probably led nowhere; and as for the little old +man with silver buckles on his shoes, it is a story only fit for +some one in his dotage. You can't expect grave and considerate men +to take your story as it stands; they must consult the Ordnance +Survey and Domesday Book; and the fact is, you have not got the +shadow of a foundation on which to carry your case into court. I +may resent this, but I cannot deny that the argument is very black +against me, and I begin to think that my senses have deceived me. +It is as they say. No one else seems to have seen the sparkle on +the brook, or heard the music at the hatch, or to have felt back +through the centuries; and when I try to describe these things to +them they look at me with stolid incredulity. No one seems to +understand how I got food from the clouds, nor what there was in +the night, nor why it is not so good to look at it out of window. +They turn their faces away from me, so that perhaps after all I was +mistaken, and there never was any such place or any such meadows, +and I was never there. And perhaps in course of time I shall find +out also, when I pass away physically, that as a matter of fact +there never was any earth.</p> +<p><a name="foot"><i>Footnote</i>:</a> The Arabian commentator +thinks this story a myth: the oasis in the desert is the time of +youth, which passes so quickly, and is not recognised till it is +gone; the pearls and rubies, the joys of love, which make the +fortunate lover as a king. In old age every man is afflicted with +disease or infirmity, every one is paralytic, lame, or blind. They +set out to find a second youth—the dream of +immortality—with the astrolabe, which is the creed or Koran +all take as their guide. And death separated the company. This is +only his pragmatic way; the circumstance is doubtless historic.</p> +<hr> +<h3 align="center"><a name="29">MY CHAFFINCH</a></h3> +<pre> + His hours he spends upon a fragrant fir; + His merry 'chink,' his happy 'Kiss me, dear,' + Each moment sounded, keeps the copse astir. + Loudly he challenges his rivals near, + Anon aslant down to the ground he springs, + Like to a sunbeam made of coloured wings. + + The firm and solid azure of the ceil + That struck by hand would give a hollow sound, + A dome turned perfect by the sun's great wheel, + Whose edges rest upon the hills around, + Rings many a mile with blue enamelled wall; + His fir-tree is the centre of it all. + + A lichened cup he set against the side + High up this mast, earth-stepped, that could not fail, + But swung a little as a ship might ride, + Keeping an easy balance in the gale; + Slow-heaving like a gladiator's breast, + Whose strength in combat feels an idle rest. + + Whether the cuckoo or the chaffinch most + Do triumph in the issuing of their song? + I say not this, but many a swelling boast + They throw each at the other all day long. + Soon as the nest had cradled eggs a-twin + The jolly squirrel climbed to look therein. + + Adown the lane athwart this pleasant wood + The broad-winged butterflies their solace sought; + A green-necked pheasant in the sunlight stood, + Nor could the rushes hide him as he thought. + A humble-bee through fern and thistle made + A search for lowly flowers in the shade. + + A thing of many wanderings, and loss, + Like to Ulysses on his poplar raft, + His treasure hid beneath the tunnelled moss + Lest that a thief his labour steal with craft, + Up the round hill, sheep-dotted, was his way, + Zigzagging where some new adventure lay. + + 'My life and soul,' as if he were a Greek, + His heart was Grecian in his greenwood fane; + 'My life and soul,' through all the sunny week + The chaffinch sang with beating heart amain, + 'The humble-bee the wide wood-world may roam; + One feather's breadth I shall not stir from home.' + + No note he took of what the swallows said + About the firing of some evil gun, + Nor if the butterflies were blue or red, + For all his feelings were intent in one. + The loving soul, a-thrill in all his nerves, + A life immortal as a man's deserves. + +</pre> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Field and Hedgerow, by Richard Jefferies + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIELD AND HEDGEROW *** + +***** This file should be named 7030-h.htm or 7030-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/0/3/7030/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Juliet Sutherland, Charles +Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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