88 Snow. 



nothing can be traced except through the memo- 

 ries of men ; and so they come to the old shepherd, 

 who has been stationary all his life, and remembers 

 the condition of the lane fifty years since. He always 

 liked to drive his sheep along it first, because it 

 saved the turnpike tolls ; secondly, because they could 

 graze on the short herbage and rest under the shade 

 of the thick bushes. Even in the helplessness of his 

 old age he is not without his use at the very last, and 

 his word settles the matter. 



In the winter twilight, after a fall of snow, it is 

 difficult to find one's way across the ploughed fields 

 of the open plain, for it melts on the south of e very- 

 furrow, leaving a white line where it has ledged on 

 the northern side, till the furrows resemble an end- 

 less succession of waves of earth tipped with foam- 

 flecks of snow. These are dazzling to the eyes, and 

 there are few hedges or trees visible for guidance. 

 Snow lingers sometimes for weeks on the northern 

 slopes of the downs where shallow dry dykes, used 

 as land-marks, are filled with it : the dark mass of 

 the hill is streaked like the black hull of a ship with 

 its line of white paint. Field work during what the 

 men call ' the dark days afore Christmas ' is neces- 

 sarily much restricted and they are driven to find 

 some amusement for the long evenings such as 

 blowing out candles at the ale-house with muzzle- 

 loader guns for wagers of liquor, the wind of the cap 

 alone being sufficient for the purpose at a short dis- 

 tance. 



The children never forget St. Thomas's Day, which 

 ancient custom has consecrated to alms, and they 

 wend their way from farmhouse to farmhouse through- 



