52 THE SOUTH COUNTRY 



sewing machines, and the glowworms shone in the thyme, 

 and the owl's crying did not rend the breathless silence 

 under the full moon, and in the confused moonlit chequer 

 of the wood, where tree and shadow were equals, I 

 walked on a grating of shadows with lights between as if 

 from under the earth; the hill was given over to a light 

 happiness through which I passed an unwilling but 

 unfeared intruder. 



In places these gods preside over some harmony of the 

 earth with the works of men. There is one such upon 

 the Pilgrims' Way, where I join it, after passing the dark 

 boughs and lightsome flowers of cherry orchards, grass 

 full of dandelions, a dark cluster of pines, elms in groups 

 and cavalcades, and wet willowy meadows that feed the 

 Medway. Just at the approach there is a two-storied 

 farm with dormers in the darkly mellowed roof, pro- 

 tected by sycamores and chestnuts, and before it a 

 weather-boarded barn with thatched roof, and then, but 

 not at right angles, another with ochre tiles, and other 

 outbuildings of old brick and tile, a waggon lodge of flint 

 and thatch beside a pond, at the edge of a broad unhedged 

 field where random oaks shadow the grass. Behind runs 

 the Pilgrims' Way, invisible but easily guessed under that 

 line of white beam and yew, with here and there an 

 ash up which the stout plaited stems of ivy are sculptured, 

 for they seem of the same material as the tree, and both 

 of stone. Under the yew and white beam the clematis 

 clambers over dogwood and wayfaring trees. Corn grows 

 up to the road and sometimes hops; beyond, a league of 

 orchard is a-froth round farmhouses or islands of oak; and 

 east and west sweeps the crescent of the North Downs. 



