A HUNT FOR THE NIGHTINGALE. Ill 



up in front of the large and comfortable-looking inn, 

 I found the mistress of the house with her daughter 

 engaged in washing windows. Perched upon their 

 step-ladders, they treated my request for breakfast 

 very coldly ; in fact, finally refused to listen to it at 

 all. The fires were out, and I could not be served. 

 So I must continue my walk back to Godalmiug ; 

 and in doing so, I found that one may walk three 

 miles on indignation quite as easily as upon bread. 



In the afternoon I returned to my lodgings at 

 Shotter Mill, and made ready for a walk to Selborne, 

 twelve miles distant, part of the way to be accom- 

 plished that night in the gloaming, and the rest 

 early on the following morning, to give the nightin- 

 gales a chance to make any reparation they might 

 feel inclined to for the neglect with which they had 

 treated me. There was a foot-path over the hill and 

 through Leechmere bottom to Liphook, and to this, 

 with the sun half an hour high, I committed myself. 

 The feature in this hill scenery of Surrey and Sussex 

 that is new to American eyes is given by the furze 

 and heather, broad black or dark-brown patches of 

 which sweep over the high rolling surfaces, like sable 

 mantles. Tennyson's house stands amid this dusky 

 scenery, a few miles east of Hazlemere. The path 

 led through a large common, partly covered with 

 grass and partly grown up to furze, another un- 

 American feature. Doubly precious is land in Eng- 

 land, and yet so much of it given to parks and 

 pleasure-grounds, and so much of it left unreclaimed 



