A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 39 



along a thousand various lines of national life, let us 

 admit, if for mere contrast's sake, one little lament 

 for a fallen glory, the sad complaint of old Tomsett 

 and his kind. 



25/7*. A lovely variant of early Spring days; not 

 that perfect thing when sun and wind are on the 

 meridian together, with soft warmth and sailing clouds, 

 but a noon of still air, the sun hot upon the face, so 

 that the little ruffling breeze from the south-east which 

 blows and falls once in a minute is none too cool. In 

 the garden-walks the tortoiseshell butterflies got up 

 under my feet, and hovered by sixes and sevens at 

 once on the white carpet of the arabis, where the bees 

 kept up a steady drone. The sky was cloudless, 

 save where low down in the west streaks and streamers 

 of vapour lay all day, showing here and there against 

 their horizontal lines the rounded shapes whose 

 lightly crisped and hardened edge is the first faint 

 sign of thunder. The sunlight was broad and pure ; 

 every shadow was full of vivid colour. The mind, 

 which perhaps has need of the semblance of fixed 

 points in the smooth lapse of being, draws the white 

 chalk score under to-day, as definitely this year's 

 opening day of Spring. 



The day before, I had met the Rector and his wife 

 in the village ; and Mrs. Lydia had called to me that 



