90 NATURE NEAR LONDON, 



trimming the roots one by one, and casting those that 

 she has prepared aside ready to be carted away to 

 the cattle. 



A hurdle or two propped up with stakes, and 

 against which some of the straw from a mound has 

 been thrown, keeps off some of the wind. But the 

 easterly breezes sweeping over the bare upland must 

 rush round and over that slight bulwark with force 

 but little broken. Holding the root in the left hand, 

 she turns it round and slashes off the projections with 

 quick blows, which seem to only just miss her fingers, 

 laughing and talking the while with two children who 

 have brought her some refreshment, and who roll 

 and tumble and play about her. The scene might be 

 bodily removed and set down a hundred miles away, 

 in the midst of a western county, and would there be 

 perfectly at one with the surroundings. 



Here, as she sits and chops, the east wind brings 

 the boom of trains continually rolling over an iron 

 bridge to and from the metropolis. She was there 

 two successive seasons to my knowledge; she, too, 

 had the stamp of the land upon her. 



The broad sward where the white-haired shepherd 

 so often stands watching his sheep feeding along to 

 this field, is decked in summer with many flowers. 

 By the hedge the agrimony frequently lifts its long 

 stem, surrounded with small yellow petals. One day 

 towards autumn I noticed a man looking along a 

 hedge, and found that he was gathering this plant. 

 He had a small armful of the straggling stalks, 

 from which the flowers were then fading. The herb 

 once had a medicinal reputation, and, curious to 



