192 NATURE IN DOWNLAND 



Even now, wlien I think of that village in the West 

 Sussex Downs, and remember the effect the inscription 

 in its church produced on me when I first saw it, I 

 am teased with a sudden impulse to explode. But 

 though I laughed I was not pleased, and to amusement 

 succeeded disgust ; for even those who are without 

 reverence, and are mockers at religion, do because of 

 their humanity yet reverence one saying and one 

 parable of Christ, and think with unconscious worship 

 that those were beautiful and sacred words used by 

 Him on that occasion, which are here put to so 

 degraded a use. The church, even before I left it, 

 had ceased to be a sacred building. There might 

 be something there to interest the archaeologist ; to 

 me it was only old Tom Johnson's house, and was no 

 better than the village ale-house to sit and rest in. 



No such feeling have I experienced in any other 

 downland church; and into how many of them, all 

 along the range, from Pevensey to the Hampshire 

 border, have I entered to find rest and refreshment in 

 burning summer weather ! 



Cooled in blood and brain, I pass out from the dim 

 church to the churchyard ; and however deeply shaded 

 by old trees it may be, the moving air and green 

 tempered sunlight strike me with a new keen instant 

 pleasure, as if I had just escaped from confinement in 

 an underground cell or vault. On such occasions I 

 am less in love with death than with sleep. 



I remember that in the cool shady churchyard at 



