DOWNS. 181 



perhaps, more rare visitors are found there than 

 anywhere else. Isolated on the open hills, such a 

 copse to birds is like an island in the sea. Only a 

 very few pheasants frequent it, and little effort is 

 made to exterminate the wilder creatures, while 

 they are continually replenished by fresh arrivals. 

 Even ocean birds driven inland by stress of weather 

 seem to prefer the downs to rest on, and feel safer 

 there. 



The sward is the original sward, untouched, 

 unploughed, centuries old. It is that which was 

 formed when the woods that covered the hills were 

 cleared, whether by British tribes whose markings 

 are still to be found, by Eoman smiths working the 

 ironstone (slag is sometimes discovered), by Saxon 

 settlers, or however it came about in the process of 

 the years. Probably the trees would grow again were 

 it not for sheep and horses, but these preserve the 

 sward. The plough has nibbled at it and gnawed 

 away great slices, but it extends mile after mile; 

 these are mere notches on its breadth. . It is as wild 

 as wild can be without deer or savage beasts. The 

 bees like it, and the finches come. It is silent and 

 peaceful like the sky above. By night the stars 

 shine, not only overhead and in a narrow circle 

 round the zenith, but down to the horizon ; the walls 

 of the sky are built up of them as well as the roof. 

 The sliding meteors go silently over the gleaming 

 surface ; silently the planets rise ; silently the earth 

 moves to the unfolding east. Sometimes a lunar 

 rainbow appears; a strange scene at midnight, 

 arching over almost from the zenith down into the 



