NATURE NEAR LONDON 



farmer's door for labour while yet the plant was 

 green ; how many considering cups of ale were 

 emptied in planning out the future harvest ! 



Now it is come, and still more labour look at 

 the reapers yonder and after that more time and 

 more labour before the sacks go to the market. 

 Hard toil and hard fare : the bread which the reapers 

 have brought with them for their luncheon is hard 

 and dry, the heat has dried it like a chip. In the 

 corner of the field the women have gathered some 

 sticks and lit a fire the flame is scarce seen in 

 the sunlight, and the sticks seem eaten away as 

 they burn by some invisible power. They are 

 boiling a kettle, and their bread, too, which they 

 will soak in the tea, is dry and chip-like. Aside, 

 on the ground by the hedge, is a handkerchief tied 

 at the corners, with a few mushrooms in it. 



The scented clover field the white campions 

 dot it here and there yields a rich, nectarous 

 food for ten thousand bees, whose hum comes 

 together with its odour on the air. But these men 

 and women and children ceaselessly toiling know 

 no such sweets ; their food is as hard as their 

 labour. How many foot-pounds, then, of human 

 energy do these grains in my hand represent ? Do 

 they not in their little compass contain the poten- 

 tialities, the past and the future, of human life 

 itself? 



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