On. IV.] REMINISCENCES. 71 



side of it was a broad old shaw with fair-sized oaks in it, 

 which made a sheltered shady walk ; the other side was 

 separated from a neighbouring grass field by a low quickset 

 hedge, over which you could look at what view there was, a 

 quiet little valley losing itself in the upland country towards 

 the edge of the Westerham hill, with hazel coppice and larch 

 plantation, the remnants of what was once a large wood, 

 stretching away to the Westerham high road. I have heard 

 my father say that the charm of this simple little valley was 

 a decided factor in his choice of a home. 



The Sand- walk was planted by my father with a variety of 

 trees, such as hazel, alder, lime, hornbeam, birch, privet, and 

 dogwood, and with a long line of hollies all down the exposed 

 side. In earlier times he took a certain number of turns every 

 day, and used to count them by means of a heap of flints, one 

 of which he kicked out on the path each time he passed. Of 

 lato years I think he did not keep to any fixed number of 

 turns, but took as many as he felt strength for. The Sand- 

 walk was our play-ground as children, and here we continually 

 saw my fathor as he walked round. He liked to see what we 

 were doing, and was ever ready to sympathize in any fun that 

 was going on. It is curious to think how, with regard to the 

 Sand-walk in connection with my father, my earliest recol- 

 lections coincide with my latest ; it shows the unvarying 

 character of his habits. 



Sometimes when alone he stood still or walked stealthily to 

 observe birds or beasts. It was on one of these occasions that 

 some young squirrels ran up his back and legs, while their 

 mother barked at them in an agony from the tree. He always 

 found birds' nests even up to the last years of his life, and we, 

 as children, considered that he had a special genius in this 

 direction. In his quiet prowls he came across the less 

 common birds, but I fancy he used to conceal it from me as a 

 little boy, because he observed the agony of mind which I 

 endured at not having seen the siskin or goldfinch, or some 

 other of the less common birds. He used to tell us how, when 

 he was creeping noiselessly along in the "Big-Woods," ho 

 came upon a fox asleep in the daytime, which was so much 

 astonished that it took a good stare at him before it ran off. 

 A Spitz dog which accompanied him showed no sign of 

 excitement at the fox, and he used to end the story by 

 wondering how the dog could have been so faint-hearted. 



Another favourite place was " Orchis Bank," above the quiet 

 Cudham valley, where fly- and musk-orchis grew among the 

 junipers, and Cephalanthera and Neottia under the beech 



