Skylarks, 99 



ments to be combined to produce a more pleasing pict- 

 ure ; and now, after seeing all else between Brighton 

 and Inverness that lay upon our line, we return to the 

 region of Streatley and Maple Durham, and award them 

 the palm as the finest thoroughly English landscape. 



We say to the valley of the Thames what the East- 

 ern poet said to the Vale of Cashmere, which is not 

 half so pretty : 



" If there be a paradise upon earth, 

 It is here, it is here." 



The Old Swan proved to be, both in structure and 

 location, a fit component part of the sylvan scene 

 around. There ran the Thames in limpid purity, a 

 picturesque stone bridge overhanging it, and the road- 

 side inn within a few yards of the grassy bank. 



The rugs were laid under a chestnut tree, and our 

 first picnic luncheon spread on the buttercups and 

 daisies. Swallows skimmed the water, bees hummed 

 above us — but stop ! what's that, and where ? Our 

 first skylark singing at heaven's gate ! All who heard 

 this never-to-be-forgotten song for the first time were 

 up and on their feet in an instant ; but the tiny song- 

 ster which was then filling the azure vault with music 

 was nowhere to be seen. It's worth an Atlantic voyage 

 to hear a skylark for the first time. Even luncheon was 

 neglected a while, hungry as we were, that we might 

 if possible catch a glimpse of the warbler. The flood 



