The Open Air 



buzz of bees at the thyme, the rush of the air beaten 

 by a ringdove's wings. These only increase the sense 

 of silent peace, for in themselves they soothe; and 

 how minute the bee beside this hill, and the dove to 

 the breadth of the sky! A white speck of thistle- 

 down comes upon a current too light to swing a hare- 

 bell or be felt by the cheek. The furze-bushes are 

 lined with thistledown, blown there by a breeze now 

 still; it is glossy in the sunbeams, and the yellow 

 hawkweeds cluster beneath. The sweet, clear air, 

 though motionless at this height, cools the rays ; but 

 the sun seems to pause and neither to rise higher nor 

 decline. It is the space open to the eye which 

 apparently arrests his movement. There is no noise, 

 and there are no men. 



Glance along the slope, up the ridge, across to the 

 next, endeavour to penetrate the hazy gap, but no 

 one is visible. In reality it is not quite so vacant; 

 there may, perhaps, be four or five men between this 

 spot and the gap, which would be a pass if the Downs 

 were high enough. One is not far distant; he is 

 digging flints over the ridge, and, perhaps, at this 

 moment rubbing the earth from a corroded Roman 

 coin which he has found in the pit. Another is 

 thatching, for there are three detached wheat-ricks 

 round a spur of the Down a mile away, where the 

 plain is arable, and there, too, a plough is at work. 

 A shepherd is asleep on his back behind the furze a 

 mile in the other direction. The fifth is a lad 

 trudging with a message; he is in the nut-copse, 

 over the next hill, very happy. By walking a mile 

 the explorer may, perhaps, sight one of these, if they 

 have not moved by then and disappeared in another 

 hollow. And when you have walked the mile 

 knowing the distance by the time occupied in 



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