02 KATVRE NEAli LOXVON. 



WHEATFIELDS. 



THE cornfields immediately without London on the 

 southern side are among the first to be reaped. 

 Eegular as if clipped to a certain height, the level 

 wheat shows the slope of the ground, corresponding 

 to it, so that the glance travels swiftly and unchecked 

 across the fields. They scarce seem divided, for the 

 yellow ears on either side rise as high as the cropped 

 hedge between. 



Eed spots, like larger poppies, now appear above 

 and now dive down again beneath the golden surface. 

 These are the red caps worn by some of the reapers ; 

 some of the girls, too, have a red scarf across the 

 shoulder or round the waist. By instinctive sym- 

 pathy the heat of summer requires the contrast of 

 brilliant hues, of scarlet and gold, of poppy and 

 wheat. 



A girl, as she rises from her stooping position, 

 turns a face, brown, as if stained with walnut juice, 

 towards me, the plain gold ring in her brown ear 

 gleams, so, too, the rings on her finger, nearly black 

 from the sun, but her dark eyes scarcely pause a 

 second on a stranger. She is too busy, her tanned 

 fingers are at work again gathering up the cut wheat. 



