Getting Ready I 5 



side in such a tissue of quiet russets and lilacs as I 

 will not attempt to describe. It is this weed-burning 

 which makes the dullest open country so beautiful in 

 sunny evenings of March and September, and always 

 forbids me to shut up my windows until the light 

 has almost vanished, and I can see nothing but a 

 flame breaking out here and there from a heap whose 

 moisture has at last been exhausted in smoke. 



The process of getting ready involves the destruc- 

 tion of old things, as well as the appearance of new 

 ones. As with the vegetation of last year, so too 

 with the human population of our village. One or 

 two at least of our oldest plants are sure to fail and 

 die before each spring comes round. In particular I 

 miss one old acquaintance a gamekeeper in his 

 younger days, who had a good deal to tell of birds 

 and beasts, and will go down to posterity in Mr. 

 Aplin's work on The Birds of Oxfordshire. He was 

 fond, like the inimitable ancient maltster in Far from 

 the Madding Crowd, of telling you of his great age, 

 and I once asked him if he remembered anything of 

 the Waterloo times. He looked round at me with 

 the one eye he possessed, and said tentatively : 



" 'Twas Wellin'ton as won the prize at the battle 

 o' Waterloo, wasn't it, sir ? " 



I assured him that his memory had not deceived 

 him. " Ay," he went on, " but 'twas old Blucher (he 

 pronounced the ' ch ' soft) as done all the vightin' ; 



