BRAMSHILL 253 



I remember once taking a well-known 

 musician who was staying with us at the 

 Rectory, through those Fir woods on just such 

 a dark afternoon, while the wind was making 

 soft music above us. He was silent ; and I was 

 disappointed, for I had fancied the new country 

 would be a delight and excite his imagination. 

 But when we reached home he sat down to 

 the piano in the dark, and played on and on 

 as if he was pouring out his whole soul in a 

 flood of melody ; and when, after an hour of 

 marvellous improvisation, he stopped and said 

 to us, " I couldn't help it : I had to reel off all 

 that I have been seeing or hearing this after- 

 noon," I was well content ; for nothing had been 

 thrown away on our friend, and if he could not 

 talk about it he could do something better. 



And thus I come back to my first question 

 and verily it is one I cannot answer. I 

 cannot tell, I cannot choose, which of the four 

 seasons is the most beautiful in Bramshill. For 

 let the weather be good or bad, let the days 

 be long or short, Bramshill remains full of 

 enchantment to one who has known and loved 

 it from childhood. 



