WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY. 127 



second owner, too, goes, and the name fresh painted 

 is that of the third. When at last it becomes too 

 shaky for farm use, it is perhaps bought by some poor 

 working haulier, who has a hole cut in the bottom 

 with movable cover, and uses it to bring down flints 

 from the hills to mend the roads. But if any of the 

 old folk live, they will not sell the ancient vessel : it 

 stands behind the rickyard under the elms till the rain 

 rots the upper work, and it is then broken up, and the 

 axletree becomes the top bar of a stile. 



Each field has its characteristic stile or rather 

 two, one each side (at the entrance and exit of the 

 footpath), and these are never alike. Walking across 

 the fields for a couple of miles or more, of all the stiles 

 that must of necessity be surmounted no two are 

 similar. Here is one well put together not too high, 

 the rail not too large, and apparently an ideal piece 

 of workmanship ; but on approaching, the ground on 

 the opposite side drops suddenly three or four feet 

 at the bottom is a marshy spot crossed by a narrow 

 bridge of a single stone, on which you have to be 

 careful to alight, or else plunge ankle-deep in water. 

 If clever enough to drop on the stone, it immedi- 

 ately tilts up slightly; for, like the rocking-stones 

 of Wales, it is balanced somewhere, and has a see- 

 saw motion well calculated to land the timid in the 

 ditch. 



The next is approached by a line of stepping-stones 

 to avoid the mud and water whose surfaces are so 

 irregular as barely to afford a footing. The stile itself 



