178 THE OPEN AIR. 



endless ridges, the gaps between, hazy and indistinct, 

 are absolutely without noise. In the sunny autumn 

 day the peace of the sky overhead is reflected in the 

 silent earth. Looking out over the steep hills, the 

 first impression is of an immense void like the sea ; 

 but there are sounds in detail, the twitter of passing 

 swallows, the restless buzz of bees at the thyme, the 

 rush of the air beaten by a ringdove's wings. These 

 only increase the sense of silent peace, for in them- 

 selves they soothe; and how minute the bee beside 

 this hill, and the dove to the breadth of the sky ! A 

 white speck of thistledown comes upon a current too 

 light to swing a harebell or be felt by the cheek. 

 The furze-bushes are lined with thistledown, blown 

 there by a breeze now still; it is glossy in the 

 sunbeams, and the yellow hawkweeds cluster beneath. 

 The sweet, clear air, though motionless at this height, 

 cools the rays; but the sun seems to pause and 

 neither to rise higher nor decline. It is the space 

 open to the eye which apparently arrests his move- 

 ment. There is no noise, and there are no men. 



Glance along the slope, up the ridge, across to the 

 next, endeavour to penetrate the hazy gap, but no 

 one is visible. In reality it is not quite so vacant ; 

 there may, perhaps, be four or five men between this 

 spot and the gap, which would be a pass if the Downs 

 were high enough. One is not far distant; he is 

 digging flints over the ridge, and, perhaps, at this 

 moment rubbing the earth from a corroded Koman 

 coin which he has found in the pit. Another is 

 thatching, for there are three detached wheat-ricks 

 round a spur of the Down a mile away, where the 



