WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY. 31 



clay of the meadows down below in the vale rifts, 

 wide and deep, into which you may thrust your walk- 

 ing-stick to the handle. Up here on the hills the turf 

 grows hard and inelastic ; it loses that " springy " 

 feel under the foot which makes it so pleasant to walk 

 upon. The grass becomes dull in tint and touches 

 like wire all the sap dried from it, and nothing but 

 fibre left. Beneath, the chalk is moistureless, and 

 nothing can grow on it. The by-roads and paths 

 made with the chalk or " rubble " glare in the sun- 

 light, and the flints scattered so thickly about the 

 ploughed fields seem to radiate heat. All things that 

 should look green are brown and dusty ; even the 

 leaves on the elms seem dusty. The wheat only 

 flourishes, tall and strong deep tinted yellow here, 

 a ruddy, golden bronze yonder, with ears full and 

 heavy, rich and glorious to gaze upon. Insects mul- 

 tiply and replenish the earth after their fashion ex- 

 ceedingly ; the spiders are busy as may be, not only 

 those that watch from their webs lying in wait, but 

 those that chase their prey through the grass as dogs 

 do game. 



But under the beautiful sky and the glorious sun 

 there rises up a pitiful cry the livelong day : it is the 

 quavering bleat of the sheep as their strength slowly 

 ebbs out of them for the lack of food. Green crops 

 and roots fail, the aftermath in the meadows beneath 

 will not grow, week after week " keep " becomes 

 scarcer and more expensive, and there is, in fact, a 

 famine. Of all animals a starved sheep is the most 



