106 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



On all grounds, then, I was entitled to 

 another look. And this time, perhaps, the 

 Lapland longspurs would be there to be en- 

 joyed with the rest. I would go again, there- 

 fore ; and on the morning of the 18th, long 

 before daylight, judging by the quietness of 

 the trees outside that the wind had gone down 

 (for wind is a serious hindrance to quiet 

 pleasure at the seashore in autumn, and visits 

 must be timed accordingly), I determined to 

 set out in good season and secure a longish 

 day. Venus and the old moon were growing 

 pale in the east when I started forth, and 

 three hours afterward I was footing it 

 through Ipswich village toward East Street 

 and the sea. 



As I crossed the marsh and approached 

 the gate, a stranger overtook me. We man- 

 aged the business together, one pulling the 

 gate to, the other tending the hook and 

 staple, and we spoke of the unusual green- 

 ness of the hills before us, on which flocks 

 and herds were grazing. " There 's better 

 feed now than there 's been all summer," 

 the stranger said. It was easy to believe it. 

 Those broad-backed, grassy hills are one of 

 the glories of the North Shore. 



