3IO FIELD AND HEDGEROW, 



saw just now, are not left without a fringe ; on the top 

 of the hardest brick wall, on the sapless tiles, on slates, 

 stonecrop takes hold and becomes a cushion of yellow 

 bloom. Nature is a miniature painter and handles 

 a delicate brush, the tip of which touches the tiniest 

 spot and leaves something living. The park has indeed 

 its larger lines, its broad open sweep, and gradual slope, 

 to which the eye accustomed to small inclosures requires 

 time to adjust itself These left to themselves are 

 beautiful ; they are the surface of the earth, which is 

 always true to itself and needs no banks nor artificial 

 hollows. The earth is right and the tree is right : trim 

 either and all is wrong. The deer will not fit to them then. 

 The squire came near enough to the corn-field to see 

 that the wheat-ears were beginning to turn yellow and 

 that the barley had the silky appearance caused by the 

 beard, the delicate lines of which divide the light and 

 reflect it like gossamer. At some distance a man was 

 approaching ; he saw him, and sat down on the grass 

 under an oak to await the coming of Ettles the keeper. 

 Ettles had been his rounds and had visited the outlying 

 copses, which are the especial haunts of pheasants. 

 Like the deer, pheasants, if they can, will get away from 

 the main wood. He was now returning, and the squire, 

 well knowing that he would pass this way, had purposely 

 crossed his path to meet him. The dogs ran to the 

 squire and at once made friends with him. Ettles, whose 

 cheek was the colour of the oak-apples in spring, was 

 more respectful : he stood till the squire motioned him 

 to sit down. The dogs rolled on the sward, but, though 

 in the shadow, they could not extend themselves suffi- 

 ciently nor pant fast enough. Yonder the breeze that 

 came up over the forest on its way to the downs blew 

 through the group of trees on the knoll, cooling the 

 deer as it passed. 



