THISTLE-DOWN 13 



and elm, and the trees were ancient-looking too, and 

 tempest-beaten, like most others in this treeless land. 



I was so fortunate as to have a seat near the 

 middle of the chm-ch, abreast of the side door which 

 stood wide open admitting the summer light and 

 warmth and out-door sounds ; so that while following 

 the service I could let my eyes rest on the landscape. 

 That was a beautiful picture I had to look at, with 

 the doorway for frame ; a round yellow hill and the 

 blue sky beyond, and between the hill and the 

 church a green meadow, low outhouse and fences, 

 and a small paddock or enclosure with rooks and 

 daws and small birds coming and going. And by and 

 by into that green enclosure came a white calf, and 

 remained there for some time, standing motionless, 

 in the centre of the picture. The brilliant sunlight 

 made it luminous, and it was like a calf hewn out of 

 a block of purest white chalk. I did not keep my 

 eyes constantly on it ; and after an interval, on looking 

 again I found that it was gone, and that two red calves 

 had taken its place. These were moving about crop- 

 ping the grass, while several starlings were searching 

 for grubs close to them. But these red animals were 

 not so fascinating as the white one. And all the time 

 I was looking at that changing picture, while following 

 the service, I was thinking of the old last century poet 

 who had been dear to me so long ago — so far away. 

 The story of his life, and his writings, poor though 

 some of them may seem to us at this day, show that 



