64 WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY. 



Plough and harrow press hard on the ancient track, 

 and yet dare not encroach upon it. With varying 

 width, from twenty to fifty yards, it runs like a green 

 ribbon through the sea of corn a width that allows 

 a nock of sheep to travel easily side by side, spread 

 abroad, and snatch a bite as they pass. Dry, shallow 

 trenches full of weeds, and low narrow mounds, green 

 also, divide it from the arable land ; and on these 

 now and then grow storm-stunted hawthorn bushes, 

 gnarled and aged. On the banks the wild thyme grows 

 in great bunches, emitting an exquisite fragrance 

 luxurious cushions these to rest upon beneath the 

 shade of the hawthorn, listening to the gentle rustle 

 of the wheat as the wind rushes over it. Away 

 yonder the shadows of the clouds come over the ridge, 

 and glide with seeming sudden increase of speed 

 downhill, then along the surface of the corn, darkening 

 it as they pass, with a bright band of light following 

 swiftly behind. It is gone, and the beech copse away 

 there is blackened for a moment as the shadow leaps it. 

 On the smooth bark of those beeches the shepherd 

 lads have cut their names with their great clasp- 

 knives. 



Sometimes in the evening, later on, when the wheat 

 is nearly ripe, such a shepherd lad will sit under the 

 trees there ; and as you pass along the track comes 

 the mellow note of his wooden whistle, from which 

 poor instrument he draws a sweet sound. There is no 

 tune no recognizable melody : he plays from his 

 heart and to himself. In a room doubtless it would 



