196 NATURE NEAR LONDON 



her back." Often it was to keep the sheep out of tur- 

 nips or wheat, there being no fences. But he made it 

 a practice to walk himself on the side where care was 

 needed, so as not to employ the dog unless necessary. 



There is something almost Australian in the wide ex- 

 panse of South Down sheepwalks, and in the number of 

 the flocks, to those who have been accustomed to the 

 small sheltered meadows of the vales, where forty or fifty 

 sheep are about the extent of the stock on many farms. 

 The land, too, is rented at colonial prices, but a few 

 shillings per acre, so different from the heavy meadow 

 rents. But, then, the sheep-farmer has to occupy a 

 certain proportion of arable land as well as pasture, and 

 here his heavy losses mainly occur. 



There is nothing, in fact, in this country so carefully 

 provided against as the possibility of an English farmer 

 becoming wealthy. Much downland is covered with 

 furze ; some seems to produce a grass too coarse, so that 

 the rent is really proportional. A sheep to an acre is 

 roughly the allowance. 



From all directions along the roads the bleating flocks 

 concentrate at the right time upon the hillside where the 

 sheep-fair is held. You can go nowhere in the adjacent 

 town except uphill, and it needs no hand-post to the fair 

 to those who know a farmer when they see him, the 

 stream of folk tender thither so plainly. It rains, as the 

 shepherd said it would; the houses keep off the drift 

 somewhat in the town, but when this shelter is left be- 

 hind, the sward of the hilltop seems among the clouds. 



The descending vapours close in the view on every 

 side. The actual field underfoot, the actual site of the 

 fair, is visible, but the surrounding valleys and the Downs 

 beyond them are hidden with vast masses of grey mist. 

 For a moment, perhaps, a portion may lift as the breeze 



