208 ON SURREY HILLS. 



under its shadow for many generations seem to have 

 transmitted some of its influences even to the present 

 race, and the result is not a wholesome one. Boor- 

 ishness does not cling only to the tiller of the soil, 

 however ; the land proprietor is often equally pene- 

 trated with it. Two artists whom I know had heard 

 that there was a most picturesque old farm at the 

 foot of the moorland hills on the border-land of Sus- 

 sex. Starting early in the morning, they arrived at 

 the entrance to the farm-lane after three hours of stiff 

 walking. The lane is a public road, only where it 

 ended and the farm began large gates were fixed, 

 through which there was right-of-way across the 

 farmyards, and out through the gate at the opposite 

 side. The green woodland road was distinct enough, 

 though of late years, ' not once in a blue moon/ as the 

 folks said, had any one gone through by that way 

 towards the hills. 



The proprietor of the place was an ill-conditioned 

 fellow. Possibly when he saw the pair coming up in 

 the distance with their easels and canvasses he judged 

 them to be land-surveyors, for directly they had en- 

 tered by the first gate and closed it, two fierce gaunt 

 dogs cleared the low garden wall, stopping the 



