60 AUTUMNAL LEAVES. 



roofed with, slate and tile. Above tlie highest 

 housetop rises the tall white column of a railway 

 signal, and beyond and above stretches rising 

 against the horizon the dark-green expanse of 

 the forest. But a bend in our road to the right 

 soon shuts out the view of village and forest, and 

 of all houses, and leaves us only the pleasures of 

 the shady wayside. 



Winding onwards and upwards between oak- 

 bordered, undulating meadows and hedgebanks, 

 which, though green with the verdant leanness of 

 grass, and many other wild plants, are empurpled 

 by the changing foliage of the Bramble the 

 little stream on the left side of our way making 

 its voice heard, but in very gentle accents, on the 

 incline we reach the top of the hill. Here, for 

 a moment, there is a homely change in the 

 character of the scenery and one of those plea- 

 sant contrasts between cultivation and wild- 

 ness so often afforded in England. One of 

 three ponds by the roadside is occupied by a 

 number of ducks whose presence attests the 

 proximity of a farmstead. The ducks are hold- 

 ing a sort of amateur regatta and, with evident 



