THISTLE-DOWN 13 



and elm, and the trees were ancient-looking too, and 

 tempest-beaten, like most others in this treeless land. 



I was so fortunate as to have a seat near the 

 middle of the church, abreast of the side door which 

 stood wide open admitting the summer light and 

 warmth and out-door sounds ; so that while following 

 the service I could let my eyes rest on the landscape. 

 That was a beautiful picture I had to look at, with 

 the doorway for frame; a round yellow hill and the 

 blue sky beyond, and between the hill and the 

 church a green meadow, low outhouse and fences, 

 and a small paddock or enclosure with rooks and 

 daws and small birds coming and going. And by and 

 by into that green enclosure came a white calf, and 

 remained there for some time, standing motionless, 

 in the centre of the picture. The brilliant sunlight 

 made it luminous, and it was like a calf hewn out of 

 a block of purest white chalk. I did not keep my 

 eyes constantly on it ; and after an interval, on looking 

 again I found that it was gone, and that two red calves 

 had taken its place. These were moving about crop- 

 ping the grass, while several starlings were searching 

 for grubs close to them. But these red animals were 

 not so fascinating as the white one. And all the time 

 I was looking at that changing picture, while following 

 the service, I was thinking of the old last century poet 

 who had been dear to me so long ago so far away. 

 The story of his Me, and his writings, poor though 

 some of them may seem to us at this day, show that 



