NATURE NEAR LONDON 



When a few minutes on the rail has carried you 

 outside the hub as it were of London, among the 

 quiet tree-skirted villas, the night reigns as com- 

 pletely as in the solitudes of the country. Perhaps 

 even more so, for the solitude is somehow more 

 apparent. The last theatre-goer has disappeared in- 

 side his hall door, the last dull roll of the brougham 

 with its happy laughing load, has died away 

 there is not so much as a single footfall. The 

 cropped holly hedges, the leafless birches, the 

 limes and acacias are still and distinct in the moon- 

 light. A few steps further out on the highway the 

 copse or plantation sleeps in utter silence. 



But the tall elms are the most striking ; the 

 length of the branches and their height above 

 brings them across the light, so that they stand out 

 even more shapely than when in leaf. The blue 

 sky (not, of course, the blue of day), the white 

 moonlight, the bright stars larger at midnight 

 and brilliant, in despite of the moon, which cannot 

 overpower them in winter as she does in summer 

 evenings all are as beautiful as on the distant 

 hills of old. By night, at least, even here, in the 

 still silence, Heaven has her own way. 



When the oak leaves first begin to turn buff", 



and the first acorns drop, the redwings arrive, and 



their " kuk-kuk " sounds in the hedges and the 



shrubberies in the gardens of suburban villas. They 



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