162 WINTER SUNSHINE 



the right time. To get out of London was delight 

 enough, and then to find myself quite unexpectedly 

 on these soft rolling hills, of a mild October day, 

 in full sight of the sea, with the larks pouring out 

 their gladness overhead, was to me good fortune 

 indeed. 



The South Downs form a very remarkable feature 

 of this part of England, and are totally unlike any 

 other landscape I ever saw. I believe it is Huxley 

 who applies to them the epithet of muttony, which 

 they certainly deserve, for they are like the backs of 

 immense sheep, smooth, and round, and fat, so 

 smooth, indeed, that the eye can hardly find a place 

 to take hold of, not a tree, or bush, or fence, or 

 house, or rock, or stone, or other object, for miles 

 and miles, save here and there a group of straw- 

 capped stacks, or a flock of sheep crawling slowly 

 over them, attended by a shepherd and dog, and 

 the only lines visible those which bound the squares 

 where different crops had been gathered. The soil 

 was rich and mellow, like a garden, hills of chalk 

 with a pellicle of black loam. 



These hills stretch a great distance along the 

 coast, and are cut squarely off by the sea, presenting 

 on this side a chain of white chalk cliffs suggesting 

 the old Latin name of this land, Albion. 



Before I had got fifty yards from the station I 

 began to hear the larks, and being unprepared for 

 them I was a little puzzled at first, but was not long 

 in discovering what luck I was in. The song disap 

 pointed me at first, being less sweet and melodious 



