2IO UPON A DAY 



royal visit. For this was then the inclosure of a 

 religious house. But little of the abbey is remaining 

 now. You may trace the foundations here and there, 

 and in the farmhouse across the meadow are one or 

 two old mullioned windows that have evidently seen 

 better days, and that is all. I should have said that 

 the whole of the space included in the horseshoe is 

 filled by a large osier-bed — a roddam, as it is called 

 on the Thames. But the willows are so wide apart 

 that there is plenty of room for a jungle-growth of 

 nettles, comfrey, and giant water-docks. 



Such, then, are, roughly speaking, the surroundings 

 of the tent. Men in houses, where wooden shutters 

 and close-drawn blinds shut out the day, sleep heavily 

 and late. But here, though sleep is sound, there is 

 no slow returning to consciousness. Lightly plays 

 the breath of morn with the loose canvas of the tent- 

 door, and as lightly the sleeper awakes from sleep. 

 He was asleep, he is awake ; and that is all. At once 

 alert, conscious, himself, he is looking out upon the 

 infancy of a new-born summer day. 



It is an enchanting scene. The sky (how far away 

 it seems!) is some cold, clear tint of palest green, 

 more subtle than any painter ever put on canvas yet. 

 In the south a single star is twinkling to the dawn. 



