CLEAR WATERS 



midday caught the rays of the returning sun, and the 

 dim clamour of loyal rustics was wafted even to the 

 river-side. 



The trout peradventure were celebrating the occa- 

 sion under water in their own way, for a drizzly night 

 and morning had made them sullener than even on 

 the preceding day, so I had plenty of time for reflec- 

 tion, and my thoughts at such a moment naturally 

 turned to that tremendous conflict on these quiet 

 fields which brought about another coronation four 

 and a half centuries ago. Gone are the barons of these 

 Welsh marches who, more than any other feudal 

 chieftains of their day, made and unmade kings. 

 Gone are the Mortimers, the Lacys, the de Braoses, 

 and the Clares ; Wigmore and Richard's castle, Gode- 

 rich and Abergavenny, Grosmont and Skenfrith are 

 but shattered ruins. Ludlow alone, by virtue of its 

 later and viceregal significance, still frowns roofless 

 but immense over the once bloodstained land. 



So it was no hardship to reel up and hurry back 

 to Ludlow, whence on this occasion I had come, and 

 do a portion of my duty at any rate in standing by the 

 big bonfire on the heights above the ancient town, 

 and beneath an umbrella for the only time of that 

 whole summer. Alas ! we had hoped to see the flare 

 from many a noble height from the Clee, from 

 Caradoc, from the Long Mynd and the Wrekin 

 but all was murk, though our own bonfire blazed to 

 heaven and mocked at the falling rain. Then, at 

 any rate, it was permissible for farmers and fishermen 

 to pray for its continuance. But, as everybody knows, 

 these prayers were unheard ; and, as I have said more 

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