72 NATURE NEAR LONDON 



half the barn for their nursery. If it is wet, at least 

 one great girl and the mother will be there too, gravely 

 sewing, and sitting where they can see all that goes 

 along the road. 



A hundred yards away, in a corner of an arable field, 

 the very windiest and most draughty that could be chosen, 

 where the hedge is cut down so that it can barely be 

 called a hedge, and where the elms draw the wind, the 

 men of the family crowd over a smoky fire. In the wind 

 and rain the fire could not burn at all had they not by 

 means of a stick propped up a hurdle to windward, and 

 thus sheltered it. As it is there seems no flame, only 

 white embers and a flow of smoke, into which the men 

 from time to time cast the dead wood they have gathered. 

 Here the pot is boiled and the cooking accomplished 

 at a safe distance from the litter and straw of the rick- 

 yard. 



These people are Irish, who come year after year to 

 the same barn for the hoeing and the harvest, travelling 

 from the distant West to gather agricultural wages on 

 the verge of the metropolis. 



In fine summer weather, beside the usual business 

 traffic, there goes past this windy bare corner a constant 

 stream of pleasure-seekers, heavily laden four-in-hands, 

 tandems, dog-carts, equestrians, and open carriages, filled 

 with well-dressed ladies. They represent the abundant 

 gold of trade and commerce. In their careless luxury 

 they do not notice how should they ? the smoky fire 

 in the barren corner, or the shock-headed children staring 

 at the equipages over the hatch at the barn. 



Within a mile there is a similar fire, which by day 

 is not noticeable, because the spot is under a hedge 

 two meadows back from the road. At night it shows 

 brightly, and even as late as eleven o'clock dusky figures 



