NATURE NEAR LONDON ig-^-m 



are silent, still, and deserted, save by a stray rabbit 

 among the thistles, and the grasshoppers ceaselessly 

 leaping in the grass. 



Returning presently to the gateway just outside 

 the wood, where upon first coming the pheasants 

 and partridges were dusting themselves, a waggon 

 is now passing among the corn and is being laden 

 with the sheaves. But afar off, across the broad 

 field and under the wood, it seems somehow only 

 a part of the silence and the solitude. The men 

 with it move about the stubble, calmly toiling ; 

 the horses, having drawn it a little way, become 

 motionless, reposing as they stand, every line of 

 their large limbs expressing delight in physical ease 

 and idleness. 



Perhaps the heat has made the men silent, for 

 scarcely a word is spoken ; if it were, in the still- 

 ness it must be heard, though they are at some 

 distance. The wheels, well greased for the heavy 

 harvest work, do not creak. Save an occasional 

 monosyllable, as the horses are ordered on, or to 

 stop, and a faint rustling of straw, there is no sound. 

 It may be the flood of brilliant light, or the mirage 

 of the heat, but in some way the waggon and its 

 rising load, the men and the horses, have an un- 

 reality of appearance. 



The yellow wheat and stubble, the dull yellow 

 of the waggon, toned down by years of weather, 

 14 



