76 NATURE NEAR LONDON 



the lower limbs of the ploughman and the horses are out 

 of sight. They have gone over a slope, and are " hull 

 down " ; a few minutes more, and they disappear behind 

 the ridge. Look away again and read or dream, as you 

 would on the beach, and then, see, the head and 

 shoulders of the leading horse are up, and by-and-by the 

 plough rises, as they come back on the opposite tack. 

 Thus the long hours slowly pass. 



Intent day after day upon the earth beneath his feet 

 or upon the tree in the hedge yonder, by which, as by 

 a lighthouse, he strikes out a straight furrow, his mind 

 absorbs the spirit of the land. When the plough pauses, 

 as he takes out his bread and cheese in the comer of the 

 field for luncheon, he looks over the low cropped hedge 

 and sees far off the glitter of the sunshine on the glass 

 roof of the Crystal Palace. The light plays and dances 

 on it, flickering as on rippling water. But, though hard 

 by, he is not of London. The horses go on again, and 

 his gaze is bent down upon the furrow. 



A mile or so up the road there is a place where it widens, 

 and broad strips of sward run parallel on both sides. 

 Beside the path, but just off it, so as to be no obstruc- 

 tion, an aged man stands watching his sheep. He has 

 stood there so long that at last the restless sheep dog has 

 settled down on the grass. He wears a white smock- 

 frock, and leans heavily on his long staff, which he holds 

 with both hands, propping his chest upon it. His face 

 is set in a frame of white white hair, white whiskers, 

 short white beard. It is much wrinkled with years ; but 

 still has a hale and hearty hue. 



The sheep are only on their way from one part of the 

 farm to another, perhaps half a mile; but they have 

 already been an hour, and will probably occupy another 

 in getting there. Some are feeding steadily ; some are 



