224 NATURE NEAR LONDON. 



SO that the rent is really proportional, A sheep to an 

 acre is roughly the allowance. 



From all directions along the roads the bleating 

 flocks concentrate at the right time upon the hillside 

 where the sheep-fair is held. You can go nowhere 

 in the adjacent town except uphill, and it needs no 

 hand-post to the fair to those who know a farmer 

 when they see him, the stream of folk tender thither 

 so plainly. It rains, as the shepherd said it would ; 

 the houses keep off the drift somewhat in the town, 

 but when this shelter is left behind, the sward of the 

 hilltop seems among the clouds. 



The descending vapours close in the view on every 

 side. The actual field underfoot, the actual site 

 of the fair, is visible, but the surrounding valleys and 

 the Downs beyond them are hidden with vast masses 

 of grey mist. For a moment, perhaps, a portion may 

 lift as the breeze drives it along, and the bold, sweep- 

 ing curves of a distant hill appear, but immediately 

 the rain falls again and the outline vanishes. The 

 glance can only penetrate a few hundred yards ; all 

 beyond that becomes indistinct, and some cattle 

 standing higher up the hill are vague and shadowy. 



Like a dew, the thin rain deposits a layer of tiny 

 globules on the coat ; the grass is white with them ; 

 hurdles, flakes, everything is as it were the eighth of an 

 inch deep in water. Thus on the hillside, surrounded 

 by the clouds, the fair seems isolated and afar off. 

 A great cart-horse is being trotted out before the little 

 street of booths to make him show his paces ; they 

 flourish the first thing at hand a pole with a red 

 flag at the end and the huge frightened animal 



