DOWNS. 170 



plain is arable, and there, too, a plough is at work. 

 A shepherd is asleep on his back behind the furze 

 a mile in the other direction. The fifth is a lad 

 trudging with a message; he is in the nut-copse, 

 over the next hill, very happy. By walking a mile 

 the explorer may, perhaps, sight one of these, if they 

 have not moved by then and disappeared in another 

 hollow. And when you have walked the mile 

 knowing the distance by the time occupied in 

 traversing it if you look back you will sigh at the 

 hopelessness of getting over the hills. The mile is 

 such a little way, only just along one slope and 

 down into the narrow valley strewn with flints and 

 small boulders. If that is a mile, it must be another 

 up to the white chalk quarry yonder, another to the 

 copse on the ridge ; and how far is the hazy horizon 

 where the ridges crowd on and hide each other? 

 Like rowing at sea, you row and row and row, and 

 seem where you started waves in front and waves 

 behind; so you may walk and walk and walk, and 

 still there is the intrenchment on the summit, at the 

 foot of which, well in sight, you were resting some 

 hours ago. 



Best again by the furze, and some goldfinches 

 come calling shrilly and feasting undisturbed upon 

 the seeds of thistles and other plants. The bird- 

 catcher does not venture so far; he would if there 

 was a rail near ; but he is a lazy fellow, fortunately, 

 and likes not the weight of his own nets. When 

 the stubbles are ploughed there will be troops of 

 finches and linnets up here, leaving the hedgerows 

 of the valley almost deserted. Shortly the fieldfares 



