192 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



branches from other beeches have swept over. 

 Trees, like humanity, must have elbow-room. The 

 sun shines in wherever the foliage is open enough. 

 That giant limb that springs from the main trunk 

 some thirty feet from the roots of the tree, bends 

 downwards until the branches touch the dead leaves 

 beneath. Then it sweeps up again in the full light 

 of the sun, the gold, crimson, and russet tones of 

 the foliage awaking a fancy that some splendid piece 

 of tapestry of the richest hues has been stretched 

 out in the woods to air it. 



If the woods do not give all this variety of form 

 and colour, you have only to turn round at the 

 next break, and to look at the hills that rise directly 

 above you in all their various shades of green. The 

 colouring is very different there, but it is in perfect 

 keeping with the glowing woodlands. You will 

 find no jarring tone in Nature. The short velvet 

 turf that covers the chalk is very different in hue 

 from the junipers that stud the hillsides ; holly and 

 thorns help to vary the scale still more. The final 

 touches are given by the white breaks of the chalk 

 showing through, and the winding sheep-tracks that 

 lead hither and thither over the hillsides. There 



