LEWES AND ITS COUNTRY 91 



who wrote *' As I lay a-thynkynge, and heard a 

 merrle Birde as she sat upon the spraye." He 

 did, and finished with ''Here is rest!" He 

 dwelt hard by some pretty Downs, Barham way, 

 as you rise from Bridge on the Dover road from 

 Canterbury. I wish the reverend gentleman 

 mieht have criven our Sussex Downs a turn before 

 he came to the "as I lay a-thynkynge " stage. I 

 would have liked to read his views on the views 

 from them, which — but here I am a'most at the 

 end of my tether, and not half got into my stride 

 up aloft with the white clouds showing the clear 

 blue sky, more and more illimitable in its depths, 

 a grey haze hanging over the coast line, the 

 brook-lands and weald spread out right away to 

 Eastbourne and Pevensey like a map ; over the 

 way, three great chalk ranges, with on the sky 

 line farther off the ridges cutting from Crow- 

 borough and up that way to East Grinstead, and 

 right on to Reigate, pretty well. One, two, three, 

 four, five, six beacon bonfires I can count, built, 

 or being built, like conical huts to hold a hundred 

 people at a time, and against some of these 

 another wagon-load of furze or faggot-wood or 

 brush stands outlined waiting to be unloaded. 

 Down and over the hill's face I can see the patient 

 bullocks deliberately drawing the plough ; smart 

 Iambs — children of silly sheep — are taking advan- 

 tage of the golf club's bunkers to make the most 

 of the breeze, and doubtless passing votes of 

 thanks for the kindly consideration shown in 

 throwing up these nice little hillocks. Not a soul 

 is within half a mile range, and enjoyment would 

 be as nearly as possible perfect if one might lie on 

 the turf, rest and be thankful. — But, good friends, 

 don't you try lying, for our friends about here won't 



