HILLS me 



HE thin grass of this wide, upland 

 yields but scanty pasture for the 

 beasts that graze along its slopes. 

 Its barren acres, never broken by the 

 plough, are strewn with heaps of stones 

 that in the ages have been gathered 

 from the sterile fields. The ground is 

 scarred with the workings of old miners, 

 who dug here long ago for calamine 

 and ochre. 



*fVJ >: Across the hayfields in the valley 



: ^ move slowly the lines of mowers, the sun- 



shine flashing on their sweeping scythes. 

 But here upon the hill no sign of life is stirring. A 

 troop of cattle have crept away out of the heat into the 

 cool shelter of a hollow overarched with whitebeam and 



