THE SHEPHERD OF THE DOWNS 85 



and-white dog who studies each movement of his 

 master, and from time to time gallops forward to 

 direct the sheep one way or another. 



The mediaeval Christmas carol seems produced 

 before our eyes ! 



" The shepherd upon a hill he sat, 

 He had on him his tabard and his hat, 

 His tar-box, his pipe and his flaget ; 

 His name was called Jolly, Jolly Watt, 

 For he was a good herd's boy." 



As the sun slowly sinks in the midst of rose- 

 coloured clouds and the light that glistens on the 

 brooks of the valley darkens, we shall see again 

 part of that wonderful story that we are told of 

 in the carol. The shepherd, as of old, is in a long 

 black cloak with many capes about his shoulders 

 to protect him from the cold blasts of the hills. 

 Will he not again put his hand to his hood as he 

 sees a star as red as blood, and, summoning his 

 dog to watch over the flock, will he not set forth 

 to Bethlehem, there to proffer all his small pos- 

 sessions, his tar-box, pipe, scrip, and skirt, to the 

 New-Born Babe ? Surely, in spite of the terrors 

 of war, the haunting dread that is in many hearts, 

 there is yet some steadfast consolation to be found 

 in the resemblance to this ancient story, still seen 

 each winter in living reality upon our Sussex 

 Downs. Even the ambitions of a restless, jealous 

 nation have so far not disturbed the picture. 



Also in the sleepy old-world country town, 

 with its steep winding streets and lanes that all 

 lead to that former stronghold, Lewes Castle, there 

 is on Christmas Eve much that recalls the past. 



