52 THE OPEN AIR. 



The wind coming up the cliff seems to bring with 

 it whole armfuls of sunshine, and to throw the warmth 

 and light against you as you linger. The walls and 

 glass reflect the light and push back the wind in 

 puffs and eddies ; the awning flutters ; light and 

 wind spring upwards from the pavement ; the sky is 

 richly blue against the parapets overhead ; there are 

 houses on one side, but on the other open space and 

 sea, and dim clouds in the extreme distance. The 

 atmosphere is full of light, and gives a sense of 

 liveliness; every atom of it is in motion. How 

 delicate are the fore legs of these thoroughbred horses 

 passing ! Small and slender, the hoof, as the limb 

 rises, seems to hang by a thread, yet there is strength 

 and speed in those sinews. Strength is often asso- 

 ciated with size, with the mighty flank, the round 

 barrel, the great shoulder. But I marvel more at 

 the manner in which that strength is conveyed 

 through these slender sinews; the huge brawn and 

 breadth of flesh all depend upon these little cords. 

 It is at these junctions that the wonder of life is most 

 evident. The succession of well-shaped horses, over- 

 taking and passing, crossing, meeting, their high- 

 raised heads and action increase the impression of 

 pleasant movement. Quick wheels, sometimes a 

 tandem, or a painted coach, towering over the line, — 

 so rolls the procession of busy pleasure. There is 

 colour in hat and bonnet, feathers, flowers, and 

 mantles, not brilliant but rapidly changing, and in 

 that sense bright. Faces on which the sun shines 

 and the wind blows whether cared for or not, and 

 lit up thereby ; faces seen for a moment and imme- 



