Gipsies. 51 



ground, where they can revel at their leisure. A place 

 where a hailstorm or heav^^ rain has beat down ana 

 levelled the tall corn flat is the favorite spot for these 

 birds ; they rise from it in hundreds at a time. But 

 some of the finches are probabl}' searching for tlie 

 ripe seeds of the weeds that spring up among the 

 corn ; they find also a feast of insects. 



Leaving now the gnarled hawthorn and the cush- 

 ion of thyme, I pass a deserted sheep-pen, where 

 in the early ^-ear the tender lambs were sheltered 

 from the snow and wind. Mile after mile, and still 

 no sign of human life — everywhere silence, solitude. 

 Hill after hill and plain after plain. Presently the 

 turf is succeeded by a hard road — flints ground down 

 into dust bj^ broad wagon-wheels bearing huge 

 towering loads of wool or heavy wheat. Just here 

 the old track happens to answer the purposes of 

 modern civilization. Past this, and again it reverts 

 to turf, leaving now the hills for a mile or two to 

 cross a plain l^'ing between a semicircle of downs ; 

 and here at last are hedges of hawthorn and hazel 

 and stunted crab tree. 



Round black marks upon the turf, with gray ashes 

 scattered about and half-consumed sticks, show 

 where the gipsies have recently bivouacked, sheltered 

 somewhat at night bj' the hedges. Near by is an 

 ancient tumulus, on which grows a small yet obvi- 

 ously aged sj'camore tree, stunted by wind and 

 storm, and imder it the holes of rabbits — drilling 

 their habitations into the tomb of the unknown 

 warrior. In his day, perhaps, the green track wound 

 through a pathless wood long since cleared. Soon the 

 hedges all but disappear, the ground rises once more, 



