OF RICHARD JEFFERIES 



stands when the sun sinks, when the 

 shade is universal night, when the van's 

 wheels are silent and the dust rises no 

 more. 



At summer noontide, when the day sur- 

 rounds us and it is bright light even in 

 the shadow, I like to stand by one of the 

 lions and yield to the old feeling. The 

 sunshine glows on the dusky creature, 

 as it seems, not on the surface, but 

 under the skin, as if it came up from 

 out of the limb. The roar of the rolling 

 wheels sinks and becomes distant as the 

 sound of a waterfall when dreams are 

 coming. All the abundant human life is 

 smoothed and levelled, the abruptness 

 of the individuals lost in the flowing 

 current, like separate flowers drawn 

 along in a border, like music heard so 

 far off that the notes are molten and the 

 theme only remains. The abyss of the 

 sky over and the ancient sun are near. 

 They only are close at hand, they and 



121 



