io THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES. 



rushes through the bennets and the dry grass. 

 There is the happy hum of bees who love the 

 hills as they speed by laden with their golden 

 harvest, a drowsy warmth, and the delicious 

 odour of wild thyme. Behind the fosse sinks, 

 and the rampart rises high and steep two 

 butterflies are wheeling in uncertain flight over 

 the summit. It is only necessary to raise the 

 head a little way, and the cool breeze refreshes 

 the cheek cool at this height while the plains 

 beneath glow under the heat." 



All day long the trains from Devon, Corn- 

 wall, Somerset and South "Wales, from Exeter, 

 Bristol, Bath, Gloucester, and Oxford, run into 

 Swindon and stop there for ten minutes every 

 one of them while the passengers get out and 

 crowd into the refreshment rooms. 



Swindon to all these travellers is nothing at 

 all but a refreshment-room. It has no other 

 association nobody takes a ticket to Swindon 

 any more than to Crewe it is the station 

 where people have ten minutes allowed for 

 eating. As for any village, or town, of Swin- 

 don, nobody has ever inquired whether there 



