238 



ANCIENT MEADOWS 



PROBABLY there are no meadows in the world so 

 good as those in England, or so old. They are 

 the sole portions of the earth's surface, with the ex- 

 ception of the barren wastes and cliffs, which modern 

 agriculture respects and leaves in peace. Hence the 

 excellence of the English pastures, and the envy of the 

 Continent. When I look at one of these fat and 

 smiling meads, the pride and stay of the farm in which 

 it lies, I like to think that it and its like are probably 

 survivals of old England's surface remaining unchanged 

 since the days of Canute and Edward the Confessor, 

 with a fixity of type as enduring as that of the wildest 

 parts of the New Forest or of the great park at 

 Windsor. 



From the early Saxon times, old meadow has been 

 distinguished from mere grazing-ground, and has 

 always been scarce. Two-thirds of what is now estab- 

 lished meadow-land still shows the marks of ridge and 

 furrow ; and from the length of time needed to make 

 a meadow ten years on the best land, a hundred on 



