SLSSTT HOLLOW 



ON the edge of a broad valley in the green heart of Men- 

 dip lies a little hollow in the hills ; an eddy on the un- 

 eventful stream of quiet country life, into whose still 

 depths are drawn the timid poets of the air, and in the 

 sanctuary of whose far retreat the tenants of the copse 

 and hedge-row love to linger. 



An ancient stile, a rude unchiselled slab of stone, seems 

 to mark the limit of the busy world. Behind it lie 

 the broad pastures and brown sweeps of ploughed land 

 of this pleasantest o*f Mendip valleys ; before it ai a the 

 sunny fields and peaceful orchards of the slopes of Sleepy 

 Hollow. Along the broad white highway near, passes 

 the stir of wheels, the tramp of feet ; and through the 

 wires by its side there throb unheard the restless pulses of 

 the busy world. But never ripple of unrest can enter here. 



From the deserted homestead the tide of human life 

 has long since ebbed away. Above grey orchard boughs 

 floats the blue smoke of one rude dwelling left stranded 

 as it were beside the path. But ruin has fallen on the 



