1 8 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



for his children's dinner was outside the pale of his 

 sympathies. 



But I am drifting from my subject. To come 

 back to our wild hillsides. Evening is near at 

 hand ; warm showers have fallen at intervals all 

 through the day, alternating with sunshine. Just 

 now the sun is low down, gently sinking ; the rain 

 has ceased, but the drops glitter everywhere, rain- 

 bow-tinted. The trees, with their young foliage 

 and yet unopened buds, look as if they were covered 

 with precious stones, flashing in the light from the 

 setting sun. Look where you will there is a mass 

 of glittering, changing colour. It has been what 

 the rustics call "a growin' day, you ken actually 

 see things growin' ! " It is good and healthful to 

 stand in the midst of all this growth, and to in- 

 hale the smell of the earth, and the scent of the 

 woodlands. 



The linnets pass overhead, as we stand still for 

 a while ; they are giving out their last twitters before 

 settling in the furze for the night. Furze - chats 

 flicker on the tips of the furze-bushes, with their 

 heads to the setting sun ; chack ! chack ! chacking 

 their good-night before the orb finally disappears 



