80 NATUBE NEAR LONDON. 



A BARJSr. 



A BEOAD red roof of tile is a conspicuous object on the 

 same road which winds and turns in true crooked 

 country fashion, with hedgerows, trees, and fields on 

 both sides, and scarcely a dwelling visible. It is 

 not, indeed, so crooked as a lane in Gloucestershire, 

 which I verily believe passes the same tree thrice, 

 but the curves are frequent enough to vary the view 

 pleasantly. 



Approaching from either direction, on turning a 

 certain corner a great red roof rises high above the 

 hedges, and the line of its ridge is seen every way 

 through the trees. With this old barn, as with so 

 much of the architecture of former times, the roof is 

 the most important part. The gables, for instance, 

 of Elizabethan houses occupy the eye far more than 

 the walls; and so, too, with the antique halls that 

 still exist. The roof of this old barn is itself the 

 building; the roof and the doors, for the sweeping 

 slope of the tiles comes down within reach of the 

 hand, while the great doors extend half-way to the 

 ridge. 



By the low black wooden walls a little chaff has 

 been spilt, and has blown out and mingles with the 



