48 Wild Tht/me. 



edge of the down-land overlooking the vale. At 

 starting the track is but just distinguishable frorA 

 the general sward of the hill : the ruts are over- 

 grown with grass — but the tough 'tussocky' kind, 

 in which the hares hide, avoids the path, and by its 

 edge marks the M'aj. Soon the ground sinks, and 

 then the corn-fields approach, extending on either 

 hand — barle}^ alread}^ bending under the weight of 

 the awn, swajing with every gentle breath of air, 

 stronger oats and wheat, broad squares of swede and 

 turnip and dark-gTeen mangold. 



Plough and harrow press hard on the ancient 

 track, and yet dare not encroach upon it. With 

 varying width, from twenty to fift^' j-ards, it runs 

 hke a green riband through the sea of corn — a 

 width that allows a flock of sheep to travel easily 

 side b}" side, spread abroad, and snatch a bite as 

 the}" pass. Dr^'^, shallow trenches full of weeds, and 

 low narrow mounds, green also, divide it from the 

 arable land ; and on these now and then grow storm- 

 stunted hawthorn bushes, gnarled and aged. On 

 the banks the wild thyme grows in great bunches, 

 emitting an exquisite fragrance — luxurious cushions 

 these to rest upon beneath the shade of the haw- 

 thorn, listening to the gentle rustle of the wheat as 

 the wind rushes over it. Awa}^ j^onder the shadows 

 of the clouds come over the ridge, and glide with 

 seeming sudden increase of speed down hill, then 

 along the surface of the corn, darkening it as they 

 pass, with a bright band of light following swiftly 

 behind. It is gone, and the beech copse away there 

 is blackened for a moment as the shadow leaps it. 

 On the smooth bark of those beeches the shepherd 



