32 THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS. 



thing. This fresh stratum now sweeping over has 

 altered the appearance of the country and given me a 

 new scene. The invisible air, as if charged with colour, 

 has spread another tone broadly over the landscape. 

 Omitting no detail, it has worked out afresh every little 

 bough of the scattered hawthorn bushes, and made 

 each twig distinct. It is the air that tints everything. 

 While I have been thinking, a flock of sheep has 

 stolen quietly into the space enclosed by the entrench- 

 ment. With the iron head of his crook placed against 

 his breast, and the handle aslant to the ground, the 

 shepherd leans against it, and looks down upon the 

 reapers. He is a young man, and has a bright, intelli- 

 gent expression on his features. Alone with his sheep 

 so many hours, he is glad of some one to talk to, and 

 points out to me the various places in view. The 

 copses that cover the slopes of the hills ho calls 

 "holts;" there are three or four within a short 

 distance. His crook is not a Pyecombe crook (for 

 the best crooks used to be made at Pyecombe, a little 

 Down hamlet), but he has another, which was made 

 from a Pyecombe pattern. The village craftsman, 

 whose shepherds' crooks were sought for all along the 

 South Downs, is no more, and he has left no one able 

 to carry on his work. He had an apprentice, but the 

 apprentice has taken to another craft, and cannot 

 make crooks. The Pyecombe crook has a curve or 

 semicircle, and then opens straight; the straight part 

 starts at a tangent from the semicircle. How difficult 

 it is to describe so simple a matter as a shepherd's 

 crook! In some way or other this Pyecombe form 

 is found more effective for capturing sheep, but it is 



